Spell of the Dark Castle

By Lorelei Bell

After Zofia and her family return to their world, everything should be fine... but is not. Zofia's first assignment as a Knight is to go to Dark Castle under cover as an Ugwump - mortal - to spy on the owner, Saint Germain, who is believed to be a vampire.

On her trip to Dark Castle, Zofia meets Myron; a vampire with many secrets. After they encounter the handsome Saint Germain, Zofia uncovers truths about his past... and about their attraction for each other.

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

Book preview

Author's Note

All ideas, worlds and characters are author's own creation, with the exception of Count Saint Germain—which I've tweaked to fit into my story.

Comte de Saint-Germain had become an obsession of mine, when I discovered him in my research many years ago. Much can be found about him on the Internet and library, if one wishes to only look.

Saint Germain was an adventurer, amateur scientist, inventor and dilettante musician. He purposely concealed his background and identity, and used such pseudonyms as Count Welldone, Prince Ragotzy, Count Bellamare and Count Surmont on his wide travels throughout Europe.

Saint Germain was most likely either the son of Franz Leopold Rakoczy, exiled Prince of Transylvania, or the illegitimate son of Marie-Ann de Neubourg, widow of Charles II of Spain. In his youth it was thought he was a protégé of the Grand Duke Gian Gastone (the last of the Medicis) and may have studied at Siena University. He appeared in London society from about 1743, and in 1758 was in Paris, where he became a favorite of Mme de Pompadour and Louis XV.

He was known throughout Europe during the mid-1700's, in France and England. From everything I've ever read about him, it was thought that he always looked the same age (about 50 during the mid-1700's and beyond), no matter when someone might see him, say, 50 years later. Thus, it isn't surprising to learn it was rumored Saint-Germain had the elixir of life—something that would prolong a person's lifespan perhaps indefinitely. It was also said that he had the secret of removing flaws from diamonds. It was possible people were duped by him. Some thought him a quack, but there were a lot of other people claiming such things, including turning inferior minerals to gold.

His exact birth and date wasn't known, but at one point it was believed he might have been born in Holland, and had some unknown source of opulence.

His obvious talents were connected with knowledge of alchemy. One of his boasts was to make one large diamond out of many small ones. That would tend to make one popular with royalty, but it also may have been a way to dupe those believing this to hand over their wealth (and become quite rich off them).

Saint-Germain was also into politics. At one point he became a secret agent in international affairs, and was sent to The Hague to negotiate with Prince Louis of Brunswick for peace by Louis XV. Saint-Germain's dealings with this nearly landed him in jail, but he received warning just before his arrest.

Further travels took him to Russia, Germany and Italy; he visited Berlin at the invitation of Friedrich August of Brunswick, and in 1779 Prince Karl of Hesse, his patron, gave him a building for his scientific experiments. He claimed to have made several discoveries applicable to manufacturing processes and was associated with industries in the Low Countries. It is rumored he also went to Egypt and the Far East.

In all the information I've gathered on this historical man, one thing stood out. He was his own man, and seemed to have his fingers into everything. He influenced Freemasonry, and other secret societies, some which studied alchemy; and he was the one who gave Mesmer his fundamental ideas on personal magnetism and hypnotism.

Saint-Germain is still thought to be alive (well, that would be quite a trick!), and is still wandering around the world. It was from this personality that I created my character, Count Saint Germain for this book Spell of Dark Castle. I hope you enjoy it.

~Lorelei Bell

The Wandering Traveler

by Bartholomew Ogden Langguth

Introduction

My first impression of Dark Castle—where it resides upon its lofty perch of two monoliths—was of its immensity. Even at a distance these golden horns rise incredibly above a dense and verdant panorama of forest. I had expected twin dolmens, but to say one was slightly shorter and more slender than its brother, is almost to take away from their imposing size.

Dark Castle itself is a windowless palace built originally by the king of vampires, atop these grand menhirs. A smaller abode called The Nest was constructed first upon the more petite stone spire of the two. The larger palace resides upon the other, larger megalith and a bridge spans these two upthrusting rocks to access the main castle, overlooking a magnificent horseshoe waterfall. The only stairs which gains this lordly perch, zig-zags up the slimmer of the two horns. The palace is guarded by an imposing gate, but this is not what keeps intruders out. A time-bending Portal, achieved because of several ley lines which converge beneath these two massive stones, will, I'm told, place you anywhere outside its gates, or within the castle, depending upon its whim at any moment of the day or night.

Dark Castle, and the village, had always been a place of refuge for those who walk on the slightly darker side, even prior to our own history, here on Euphoria. Legend has it that the Helsingas—the half-man, half-lizard creatures, who stood twice as tall as any living man—had erected these menhirs to their god. The largest menhir is purported to be hollow and cave-like.

As I stroll the streets of Ravenwood at night, I am acutely aware of the were-people and vampires, and members of various secret and illegal sects, societies and cults, who stride about in their various robes and costumes, depending upon their affiliations. They all gather and imbibe in the spirits at the two inns here. Most likely their numbers are large because of the propinquity of the Oblast, just a few kilometers away.

In any case, I shall nary venture here again, gentle readers as I was lucky to have made it out alive.

PART ONE: The Inductee

Chapter 1

His lips moved against her ear, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine.

Xilomorah, Dorian gasped, breathless.

Zofia gaped up at her husband. What? she asked, not sure if she heard him correctly, as they floated four or five feet above the bed, as usual, making love. All action had stopped, however, as Dorian returned her incredulous stare.

What? he said, looking startled as though a revelation had conked him on the head.

You said Xilomorah, she said. Smack dab in the middle of a glorious release, no less. Why the hell would Xilomorah come to mind when you're making love to me?

She turned me into a vampire, he said on a withering gasp, as though he'd phased from having a release himself to coming to some monumental epiphany. I just remembered it. That's all.

A twinge of fury swelled inside and Zofia pushed Dorian off with all her might. They both tumbled to the bed, bounced a few times and Zofia used the momentum to half-jump, and half-Transvect herself away from the bed and landed on both bare feet.

What're you doing? he asked, the ire in his voice apparent. I wasn't finished.

You are now! she bit off the words as she swept a wisp of sienna hair out of her eyes. You let Xilomorah bite you! Spying her lacy white panties on the floor, she grabbed them and pulled her legs through.

Dorian hadn't been back as a wizard for a full twenty-four hours yet, after being a vampire for five years, during which he'd forgotten a lot of things—like how he'd been turned into a vampire. Zofia had suspected Xilomorah (who was Vesselvod Blood's half-sister—both were now very much dead), had been behind it. What a time for him to suddenly recall the witch while they were making passionate love. Her face burned and her heart beat madly. She was not a happy sorceress. She wanted to hex something—if Dorian got in the way, all the better.

"I didn't let her bite me," he said, drawing his lean, but well-muscled legs over the side of the bed. Dorian paused. She took in his human flesh tones, happy that he no longer sported the pale vampire skin tone of just a few days before.

No? she said, incredulous stare in place. Then how exactly did you let that ugly crone turn you?

She wasn't exactly ugly at the time.

No? Zofia raised her eyebrows and waited for more. She never presumed that Dorian was like all the other Knights when he was on an assignment, and away from home for long periods of time and took a lover. Most sorceresses of Euphoria took this in stride when they learned their husband was having an affair, and simply had affairs of their own. Why couldn't she? For one thing, she didn't want to. Mother of two growing children, and in love with her husband, she didn't feel the need. (Although she had dated the Ugwump, Sergeant Richard Keys, while living here on First World, but that was before she'd learned that Dorian wasn't exactly dead, but un-dead.)

You agreed we'd tell each other our worst secrets from the past five years, Dorian blurted, looking incensed. I told you mine, now it's your turn.

Not yet! She brushed an annoying length of sienna hair out of her eyes. Not until you tell me exactly how Xilomorah seduced you. Two fists found her slim waist as she gave Dorian full benefit of her dark glare. Did you bed her?

Mom! Blanche's voice from down stairs filtered up to the bed room. They both ignored their daughter's call.

She seduced me. He gave her a sheepish look, then dropped his gaze.

And then what?

He snatched up his jeans and boxers from the floor. He pulled the boxers up, holding out for more time.

And then what? You had to get between the sheets with her? Zofia snarled ferociously, remembering a line she'd heard in an Ugwump movie once.

I was on assignment! he snapped. I was—he gasped with his frustration—extracting information from her and she bit me and nearly drained me of blood and then made me drink hers and—

Zofia held up her hand to stop him. "Bluckh! That's plenty of detail, thank you! Locating her bra, she snagged it from off the lamp shade, thrust her arms through the arm holes but couldn't hook it in the back. Struggling a few more times, she gave up, and pitched the thing across the room. Stupid Ugwump thingamajig!"

A knock, then, Mom! Blanche's voice filtered in through their bedroom door.

"Don't come in!" They both shouted at the door.

Zofia threw on her T-shirt, then picked up a pair of shorts and hopped around on one foot trying to get into them. Dorian managed to snug on his faded blue jeans, and grabbed for his button shirt. He was nearly all the way dressed, while she barely managed to cover herself.

It's amazing you couldn't remember this yesterday, she said, still hopping around on one foot. And today, you remember every last detail. You're really amazing—

Please, Dorian drew out the word, giving her the I-can't-believe-you're-this-mad look. After eighteen years of marriage, I would think we could tell each other our nasty little secrets without becoming unhinged.

Finally Zofia fell back on the bed, thrust legs into her cut-offs, and zipped them up. Standing, she returned a challenging glare. Unhinged, am I? she said this in a much calmer tone than she was really feeling.

Yes, he said in his usual clipped fashion. His own sapphire gaze took on a slightly triumphant cast. A swath of raven-black hair fell across his brow in casual indifference. He hadn't buttoned up his shirt, and he was giving her a peek of his virile chest. She found she couldn't tear her eyes off his washboard abs (he used to do a thousand sit-ups and two hundred and fifty push-ups daily as part of his physical regiment to keep fit for his job as a Knight), and it gave her a sudden twinge of desire. She tore her eyes away. You were the one who suggested this. I can hardly wait to hear what your little dirty secret is, he said and then added with an imperious gleam, I know all about Richard, so that can't be it.

He knew very well that she had not gone against Code. It was the other thing she had done which was a terrible Taboo (besides doing it with him while a vampire, and that was just as bad), and she feared more what Dorian would think, or do because of it. Never mind what the Heathweian Council of Wizards would do to her, once they found out.

You let your male hormones run away with you. What I did, I did for my child!

Mom! Dad!

"Ho-ho! So-o-o, you did do something you're ashamed of, but it was all for the good of our child? He achieved that imperious expression all wizards of Euphoria were capable of as he folded his arms across his chest. Which one was it? Blanche or Elton?" he asked low, so that Blanche wouldn't hear.

Don't you change the subject! she barked. Exactly what were you doing at the time you met Xilomorah—and don't give me the excuse that you were on assignment at the time—

Mom!

You know I was on assignment, and whenever I'm on assignment—

Dad!

—I've every right to interview anyone and everyone who may lead me—

MOM! Blanche suddenly appeared out of thin air into the room. One moment she was out in the hall, the next she was standing right before them.

WHAT! both Zofia and Dorian shouted, throwing their sixteen-year-old daughter angry scowls.

Blanche jumped back from their sudden outburst.

Jeeze! Chill, you guys, Blanche retorted, looking slightly scandalized. Someone's here.

Who? Zofia asked.

Can't this wait? Dorian asked bitterly. It's probably that stupid Ugwump neighbor of yours—that Lulu woman—

Lolly, Zofia corrected.

Whatever!

It isn't Lolly, Blanche interrupted. There's a Bubble out in the backyard, just hovering.

Both Zofia and Dorian exchanged startled expressions. A Bubble was used almost exclusively by an Immortal to get around from place to place. It was also handy for traveling from one planet to the other. Just as Dorian had traveled back to their planet, Euphoria, last night via the Sorcerer's Tree—the only other magical way sorcerers could travel from one place to another. He had returned to their planet to report to his boss, Stephen Restormell, Head Commander of the Knights of the Witenagemont, that he was no longer a vampire, but a wizard again (thanks to the spell Zofia and Tillie had done on him). Stephen had welcomed him back into the fold as a Knight. Afterwards, Dorian had returned home early in the morning, slipped into the bedroom, stripped off all his clothes and woke Zofia with his lovemaking. He'd mumbled into her ear that the Immortal, Paradeep, and possibly Stephen would arrive later on in the Bubble to pick him up and return to their planet. But they were early. By several hours.

Forgetting their argument, Zofia and Dorian both swept past Blanche, and rushed out of the room. Dorian's broad shoulder slammed Zofia into the wall, making a full-out effort to be the first one to get downstairs.

HEY! Zofia cried, and shot forward, Transvecting down the stairs to the front entry where she passed him up. They banged into one another, and Zofia slammed into the wall, knocking a picture askew. Zofia readjusted the picture magically, and then zoomed through the threshold, into the dining room only to be halted by Blanche's form as it suddenly popped out of nowhere, right in front of her.

I really wish you'd warn a person before you Evanish in front of them, Blanche!

Sorry, Mom, Blanche said, but couldn't hold back her mirth. Ever since four a.m. this morning, she'd discovered she had the power to Evanish—disappear and reappear—anywhere at will. She'd been popping in and out of rooms all morning (except for theirs, thank wizards!), showing off. Tillie had knocked on the door revealing this bit of news, but Zofia was a little too busy to go and watch.

Must be nice, Zofia muttered, half under her breath. The power to Evanish skipped a generation, and no one knew who in the family would inherit the powers when they became sixteen or seventeen.

There's a huge Bubble out in the garden! Elton's voice filtered in from the kitchen. The screen door slammed. Then slammed again.

Zofia Transvected quickly through the dining room, eying Blanche's birthday cake lathered beautifully in white icing as she sped by. The thought of the dark chocolate layers of cake hidden beneath the snowy perfection nearly took her off stride. She could hardly wait until later on for the party to begin. She'd been hankering for a large piece of chocolate cake ever since Tillie had finished it late last night.

Her thoughts were snapped back to focus by a shrill scream from the backyard. Zofia surged out the back door, only to collide with the rest of the family stalled in front of her.

Withershins, the now-white unicorn, trotted up to greet Blanche, nickering and seeking her touch. But over the garden hovered a Bubble about the size of their potting shed. Rooted to the spot, on this side of the hedges, stood Lolly Vosserman, nosy neighbor and hardass. Her bright red hair in curlers, wearing a pink, terry-cloth robe over her tubby body, and fluffy pink slippers rounded out the prying Ugwump's form. She looked more as though she'd stumbled into a surrealist's painting. Eyes wide, her mouth even wider, she stood gaping up at the large iridescent Bubble, hovering just ten feet above the squash and cucumbers. A broom in her pudgy hands, she shook it menacingly at the Bubble as if she could shoo it away like a stray cat.

I knew you people were odd! That's a UFO! Lolly cried, glaring at them.

Omiwizards! Zofia gasped, unable to think of some sort of explanation to douse this woman's panic at seeing what appeared to be a gigantic soap bubble in Zofia's backyard. It wasn't anything like the pictures of UFO's that the tabloids had on their front covers, that Zofia had ever seen. But, then Lolly wasn't all that bright. She'd called Withershins a donkey, for wizard's sakes.

The small, white dog in Lolly's arms barked loud and incessantly. Lolly screeched anew.

Looking up, Zofia watched as the huge iridescent, ball-shaped object just slightly larger than a Volkswagen Beetle, lowered itself to the ground.

I thought you said Stephen wasn't coming until tonight, Zofia said while wringing her hands, gaping at the Bubble making a soft landing. She wasn't in any way, shape or form to be in Stephen's presence again. The last time she had seen him—just a day or so ago—he had kissed her … and she'd had an orgasm. That had frightened her (after she had gotten over the glowy feeling of it all), as to what he was capable of—in bed, or out of it, for that matter.

I did. I don't understand why he's here, now, in broad daylight, Dorian said. Must've gotten the time zones all mixed up.

The dog in Lolly's arms leapt to the ground and charged the Bubble, barking nearly as shrilly as Lolly screamed. Perth and Argyll, Zofia's cats, scrambled between everyone's legs and arrowed after Lolly's dog.

Mr. Tigges! Lolly screeched. With broom in both hands, she galumphed into the yard.

NO! Zofia cried out. Dorian! Do something!

What do you want me to do?

Stop her!

Dorian patted himself down, in search of his wand. Blast! I must've left my wand somewhere, he slurred.

Before Zofia could stop her with her own Powers, Lolly suddenly vanished into thin air, her dog disappearing a second before her. Stopping just short of the spot, Perth and Argyll spun about and tried to scamper away. Both yowling as they clawed desperately, striving to keep ahead of something which acted like a huge vacuum. Their fur, which stuck out, now sucked back across their bodies. They could no more pull themselves away from this invisible vacuum than turn back into warrior women. Both were sucked into the invisible plane and vanished as had Lolly and her dog.

Chapter 2

What in the name of Immortals is going on? Zofia cried, horrified.

Elton took a step toward the spot.

No! Dorian warned, grasping him by the shoulder. Blanche, get over here!

Blanche surged obediently toward him. Withershins whinnied and trotted right behind her.

That seems to be a Portal of some sort, Dorian said, glaring at the spot, just past the white daisies and onion stalks—the few items left that Withershins had found delectable enough to eat in their gardens.

The huge iridescent Bubble landed quietly and gently in the garden, just barely bending the leaves of the squash and cucumbers. An oval opening appeared in its center and out stepped a tall, handsome man in his early forties, wearing a peacock-blue robe with gold edging. A small gold skull, emblem of the Knights, was embroidered over his heart. His long, blond hair was pulled back off his face and tied with several matching ribbons, as always. He stood six-foot-five, and looked like something chiseled from marble by a great artist, like Michelangelo.

Blessed be, Stephen Restormell, Head of the Knights of Witenagemont, stated casually to all present as he stepped out into the garden. Stephen wasn't simply handsome, he was drop-dead gorgeous. A woman's head would be able to complete a 180 degree turn in order to take him in, should she miss him on the first pass.

Behind him, another man emerged wearing a shiny, silvery-gold tunic over matching pantaloons tucked into boots of the same color and sheen. His long white hair and flowing white beard looked whiter than usual. In fact, the Immortal Paradeep seemed to glow. A breeze pushed at the unfettered ends of his tresses, which came nearly to the ground.

Paradeep! Zofia squeaked, suddenly feeling over-exposed as she remembered she was not wearing a bra underneath her T-shirt, and seeing Stephen had given her goose bumps—all over. And she was certain she had never shown as much of her legs on Euphoria since she was a small girl. She suddenly felt terribly under-dressed before the Immortal, and Stephen.

Blessed be all who dwell here. Paradeep greeted, his gaze taking Zofia in. Zofia, you're looking—his eyes took her in—well.

Zofia self-consciously edged behind Dorian. Blessed be. Welcome to our home, she said almost too quietly, and made an awkward curtsy.

Thank you, Paradeep said, and looked around himself almost anxiously.

Blessed be my Lord, Dorian said, making a moderate, but respectful bow to both men. Stephen was his boss, as well as a prince of his own realm.

Blessed be, Stephen repeated.

Stephen, old man, Dorian said casually. We didn't expect you until nightfall.

It couldn't wait, Stephen said, stepping aside for the Immortal, giving him way.

Everyone, stay right where you are, Paradeep cautioned. Hands raised, he stepped further into the garden. His robes contrasted against the orange blossoms of the melons. An illegal Portal has just been issued from Euphoria, and I've tracked it the whole way, to this planet, right into your backyard. He waived his hands in a circle toward the area where the dog, Lolly, and the cats had just been sucked in.

A sound like a jar of peanuts being opened was heard.

There. I've closed it, Paradeep said, and strode further into the garden where golden black-eyed Susans nodded in his wake. Is everyone alright?

Yes, thank you, Zofia said, but Stephen's gaze held hers as he stepped toward them. He winked at her. It was a knowing wink, and she knew exactly what he was thinking, because she was thinking it too. Feeling herself blush, she had to avert her eyes.

Dorian, Stephen said as he strode up to him, smiling a dazzling smile. Have you everything in order to join us back on Euphoria? If they were Ugwumps—mortals—they would have grasped hands and shook them in a meaningful, manly way. But they were wizards. Actually, Stephen was one-eighth god. If they touched each other on the hands, even briefly, there'd be enough sparks to start the 4th of July celebration all over again, right in her own backyard. The Power serge would most likely be enough to knock Dorian on his keister, and leave a burned out hole half the size of their potting shed. They merely bowed to one another. And then, as though they could not hold back, they embraced briefly, cuffing one another boisterously, on the back. They were best friends, after all.

Pretty much, Dorian said, a broad grin etched across his face. Just need a moment to go and gather it all up. It was an unguarded moment of emotion Zofia rarely, if ever witnessed from him. If Zofia was none the wiser, she would never have guessed that the two had been rivals and had fought over her once, a long time ago. That was how Dorian had given Stephen a knot on his otherwise straight nose.

Zofia, Stephen said, turning his eyes on her. You take the breath away, as always.

My Lord Stephen, Zofia said, bowing and making another curtsy, just as awkward as the last one. He had become Lord of Restormell Castle ten years after his father had died when he came of age. The fact that he was one-eighth god only increased the butterflies in her stomach while standing in the same atmosphere with him. An odd, but familiar fluttering low in her abdomen reminded her of the last kiss he'd bestowed upon her when she had gone to see Paradeep only a few days ago, at his mountain retreat on Euphoria. She had never expected the kiss, nor the orgasm she'd experienced from it. Goddess!

Was there a mishap? Paradeep asked them, concern in his slightly hoarse voice, he studied each of them. Zofia was glad for the interruption, pulling Stephen's gaze off her. She tugged at her shirt collar—there wasn't enough material to hide the terrible fang marks made by Dorian just a few days before. Or had Stephen already seen them?

There rather was, Dorian spoke up. The neighbor lady, Lulu, and her dog—

Lolly, Zofia corrected. As well as Perth and Argyll vanished into that Portal along with them, Zofia concluded, holding the collar up on one side. She tried for casual indifference, hoping she wasn't too obvious, but knew she probably was. If either Stephen, or Paradeep saw the vampire bites, she'd be in big doo-doo. It was Taboo to allow a vampire to bite you. If Stephen saw the marks, he'd know what she'd done right away.

Not having caught any of this, Paradeep turned toward the Bubble, made a wave of his hand and the Bubble vanished with a resounding pop of air.

This is most disturbing, Paradeep said, then stopped and peered around the garden as though he'd just discovered it. Very lovely place you have, Zofia. I must commend you.

Thank you, Zofia said quickly, and tried to keep a safe distance from his sharp eyes. She hoped desperately he would not use his Powers to read her mind. He was never one to pry, ever, unless warranted, and that was the best thing she had going right now, because Paradeep could look into anyone's mind, if he really wanted to, and know what they were thinking.

Do you know where on Euphoria this illegal Portal issued? Dorian asked.

I'm not at all sure where the Portal came from precisely, only that it did come from somewhere in the northeastern quadrant of The Province, Paradeep said. Close to the Oblast. The Province was where she, Dorian, Stephen, and just about one third of their world's population lived. The Oblast was out of their jurisdiction where the most lawless, and mostly Were families lived, and vampires liked to seclude themselves as well. No one in their right minds would venture into The Oblast without a good reason, and only with a small army of very good Knights at their back.

Gardner? Dorian asked, his anxious gaze slid to include Stephen.

That would be a good speculation, Stephen said smoothly. His gaze darted off Dorian to take in Zofia, and slipped back on Dorian. There was the look of subterfuge in his gold-green eyes, plus an evasiveness in his tone.

Dorian turned to glance at Zofia. His expression matched Stephen's. It was a look she knew well and took it upon herself to excuse herself. She knew the men would want to speak privately amongst themselves. And she could use the excuse to go put on more cloths. The black turtleneck came to mind, and she dismissed it just as quickly. It was already warm and muggy, the usual Illinois weather for this time of year.

I see this is Witenagemont business, she said and padded barefoot toward the house, trying hard not to glance back at them. But Stephen's words made her look back.

It is, Stephen said. The last assignment Dorian had before he was—

Right, Dorian said briskly, cutting Stephen's words off. Zofia, take the children and go wait in the house.

Halting, Zofia frowned at Dorian's command. Then remembered her place. She'd really been single, living as an Ugwump on this planet way too long. Besides, she really didn't mind getting out from under Stephen's intense gaze. Blanche and Elton were obediently heading inside ahead of her. The screen door slammed twice. Zofia was three steps from escaping herself, but heard the swish of something behind her. Stephen's deep voice caught her by surprise.

Zofia? A moment, please, Stephen said. His voice was the usual silky-deep, yet caressing. Commanding, yet gentle.

Halting, Zofia turned to see him angling toward her, down the garden path. When he caught up with her he darted a look back over his shoulder at Paradeep and Dorian, who were deep in their own, low conversation, not noticing where Stephen had gone.

Stephen's fingers grasped her arm firmly, turning her about and leading her away from the two men. The heat from his fingers on her skin gave her another fluttering in the stomach. Just being next to him made her feel a little floaty. They stood next to a planter where once had grown a proud display of purple and blue petunias. Withershins had taken it upon himself to cultivate them down to the roots.

What is it? she asked with concern, her head tilted far back to look into his chiseled features. She watched his jaw muscles bunching; he looked as though in two minds as to what he wanted to say to her. His one hand slid down her arm and took her hand in his. His other hand snagged the one that was holding up the material of the T-shirt, to hide those angry welts. As though not having noticed, he held her hands as they stood face to face like that, like old friends.

I only wish to impart— he began, and then as though needing to reword it, started again. Zofia, you are all invited to come back to our world with us for the Feast.

This was very sudden. Perplexed by the news she asked, Now? I-I mean, today?

Today. Yes. Within the hour, in fact, you need to be ready, he said, dipping his face lower so as to peer into her eyes ever more deeply. His seemed gentle and more golden than green at the moment, and she decided it was more likely the more intense sun here on First World, than any thing more. It didn't matter the color, right now, she was held captive by those eyes. They were the kind a woman could get lost in.

I can't explain this to you right now. But your presence is very much required.

She blinked back her surprise. Me? Really? He had released her hands, and she pressed one to her chest, the other went back to her throat, feeling the bumps from the bite marks. She glanced back at Dorian briefly. Did he know they were all to return to Euphoria?

You said we'd leave soon? she asked.

As soon as possible, Stephen said.

The children, and my Aunt Tillie? She didn't know if Aunt Tillie would be welcomed. She was not exactly a favorite of the Knights. She had been married multiple times to different Knights, and each of them had wound up being murdered—not that she had anything to do with the murders, but she was considered bad luck. At least for a man who happened to be a Knight. (In other words, it was a good bet she wouldn't get any dates while there.)

Your Aunt Tillie is most welcome to come along, he said, smiling.

Well, I guess, if everyone is welcomed…

I can't urge you enough, Kitten, he said, lowering his voice. And, you will have to leave the Stone of Irdisi here, I'm afraid.

What? How can I? I'm the Keeper, she said, even more shocked at the suggestion of leaving the Stone here, unguarded.

It can be brought back later, he suggested with a calming gesture of the hands. For right now, the best place for it is here, on First World. Trust me.

She gazed into the depths of his eyes. Sunlight picked up flecks of deeper gold in those dazzling eyes. She felt herself shudder with the next intake of air.

Well, alright, she said. I'll have to call Tillie. She's at the store right now.

Take as much time as you need to make preparations to leave, but do not dawdle. Take only what you need, and nothing more. Everything will be provided.

Clothes?

Yes, he said. We will provide you with everything you may need in clothing.

Where are we to stay?

In my castle. Of course.

Of course. Zofia nodded and left him in the heat of the day to find sanctuary in the cool of the house, where she could think. He wouldn't give his reasons for her returning with them, aside from the excuse of joining them in the Feast. The Feast was an integral part of the Knight's realm, and it was more of a social gathering, and a way to rub elbows with the most elite of their kind. The Induction Feast celebrated, and honored the newest member of the Knights—a young initiate—who was chosen once a year from the Vanguard, and voted in by the highest-ranking Knights. Dorian was one, and, of course, Stephen was the Head of the Knights. But why was it so important she be present? It made her feel deeply uncomfortable. Also his telling her to leave the Stone of Irdisi, the most powerful magical implement of their planet, caused her a thread of alarm. Maybe with so many Knights, the idea of the Stone in their presence made them uncomfortable? Or, was it that it was simply against Code? She couldn't recall that one.

Zofia had never attended any of these events, mainly because they were rather stuffy occasions, more geared for the mothers and fathers of the would-be initiates, where they were wont to go about trying to get endorsements from members to vote their son in. And since Elton was way too young—and was not in the Brotherhood of Knights—it had nothing to do with him.

No. Stephen knew something, and it was somehow part of this whole scenario to get her back to their planet. She feared he knew all about her various Taboos. Both of them. The thought of it, how much trouble she was in, gnawed at her insides.

Mom! Blanche was waiting inside the kitchen as Zofia stood there staring at the phone. She needed to call Tillie. She grabbed up the phone. What about my party?

Your party? Zofia hadn't even given a thought to this—all the planning, invitations had gone out weeks ago, the cake and ice cream, balloons, party favors—it hadn't even entered her mind, now after speaking with Stephen. She turned to face Blanche whose face twisted into a scowl. I'm sorry, Blanche, I didn't expect this to happen. But it's by the decree of the Witenagemont that we attend the Feast.

Great! Everyone will come, and no one will be here, and I'll miss out on my sixteenth birthday! she cried and withered into a kitchen chair, fists to her cheeks, elbows jammed onto the table. This wasn't the first time Blanche had made a big fuss over something she would rather do. It was her sixteenth birthday, but this couldn't be helped. Stephen came short of demanding they all attend. Even Tillie. How weird.

I'll call Aunt Tillie and tell her what's happening, Zofia said, pushing the numbers on the wall phone pad. I don't know what else we can do.

When will we be back? Blanche asked.

I don't know… the phone at the shop rang once and Tillie's voice was in her ear.

Notions and Potions, we'll brew it and bag it, just for you.

Tillie! Zofia was startled by the way she had just answered the phone. What are you doing answering like that?

Oops, Tillie's tight voice replied. Sorry.

Never mind. Stephen and Paradeep just arrived and—

What? Now? In the middle of broad daylight? Are they mad?

Yes—I can't explain it all over the phone just now. But we're to go with them back to Euphoria and attend the Induction Feast tonight.

Tonight? Tillie's craggy voice screeched. What about Blanche's party?

I can't get out of this. It's an edict from the top, Zofia said.

Did they give a reason?

No. But I've got a few ideas.

Hum, Tillie said. It might be that Dorian's nephew is old enough to be Inducted by now.

Really? You think that might be why?

Must be… Silence, then, This one? She suddenly sounded distracted. There were muffled voices, as though she'd just covered the mouth piece. Then she came back on. It must be. What else could it be? Didn't he say?

Well, no.

When do you leave?

He said within the hour. He seemed to be in a hurry.

Paradeep?

No. Stephen.

I can't leave just now. I'll have to close up shop. How can I go if not with you?

You could use the Sorcerer's Tree, maybe?

Well, I could, I guess.

Would you mind, then, calling up as many people invited to Blanche's party as you can? I simply don't have the time.

Tillie sighed. The register rang in Zofia's ear. That's eleven seventy-five. Tillie said in the background. I'll begin making calls from here, and then when I get home.

Thanks Tillie. You're a peach.

You don't think it might have anything to do with—you know—?

Zofia bit her lower lip in thought. I hope not. Or I'm in big trouble.

Chapter 3

Zofia and Dorian stepped inside the Bubble, right behind Stephen. On either side of Paradeep stood two Celestials clad in glowing white gowns with huge white wings. It wasn't apparent as to whether the Celestials were male or female. Sometimes it was hard to tell. They had a very androgynous look to them; long fair hair, large, innocent eyes, and fine-boned features. They never spoke, but communicated with the Immortals by thought. The Celestials were part of the angelic race, and they had wings, but she'd never seen any flying about. Apparently, they just winked in or out in order to come and go. While the Immortals were the off-spring of the gods and goddesses, wizards and sorceresses were begotten by the Immortals. Zofia and Dorian represented the seventh generation. The first and second generation were all dead, now. There were hardly any third-generation wizards any more, as they were over a thousand years old.

The portal to the Bubble stood open as Zofia and Dorian waved for Elton and Blanche to hurry as they sprinted across the garden.

The sudden flash of white caught Zofia's breath. Withershins jumped aboard, pushing her to one side with his pony-sized body and that dangerous spike at the center of his head. She hadn't quite gotten used to his new white coat, which he had gained right after he had horned Vesselvod Blood—who was thought to have been the direct cause for his sooty coat, and it proved to be so.

Withershins! Blanche cried, and without pause Evanished into the Bubble, next to the unicorn.

Paradeep turned to her. Blanche? You can Evanish, now? How wonderful! He looked very impressed. He called Blanche his daughter, because she was his descendant, just as Zofia was—many generations back.

Yes, Zofia chimed in. She just began Evanishing this morning.

Ah, Paradeep said. Her sixteenth birthday. Very happy birthday, Blanche.

Blanche blinked at him. Some birthday, she muttered. I was having my friends over. Aunt Tillie made a birthday cake, and I was having all my friends over. This just isn't fair.

Paradeep made a calming gesture with his hands and said, Now, now. How many of your friends on First World can say they've had a birthday party in a castle?

Castle? Blanche said, now squinting at him. She paused as though having a hard time considering the idea of her having a birthday party in a castle.

Elton! Get in here and quit playing with the chickens! Dorian barked, making Zofia jump.

Elton lunged through the opening of the Bubble, just before it winked shut. He went down on his knees, as though he'd tripped.

Dorian dipped and pulled Elton up off the floor.

Watch yourself, son, Dorian said, brushing him off.

Elton mimicked Dorian's motions. I'm alright— He looked up suddenly at a spot behind his father. "Who are they?" Elton's gaze went from one Celestial to the other who stood on each side of Paradeep, their hands tucked into the deep arms of their raiments.

This is Sansenoy, and that's Semangleof, Paradeep introduced with a sweeping gesture toward the two Celestials. Or vice versa, he added as though uncertain. Both winged creatures regarded Paradeep demurely. Then they took in Elton with kind eyes, but said nothing and then their gazes drifted up over his head in rapturous expressions.

Will there be a birthday cake? Blanche asked, still on the subject of her birthday. I mean in this castle?

Of course! Paradeep said brightly, white brows arching high on his forehead. A very large one, at that.

Chocolate, with white icing? she prodded.

Whatever your heart's desire, he promised.

You will be staying in my castle, Stephen announced, a faint grin on his lips.

Blanche's gaze went slowly up to take Stephen in. She knew who he was, but possibly had forgotten how tall and gorgeous he was. It was one thing to see him across the way, and quite another to be in his presence. Zofia knew that look on her daughter's face. It was one that she imagined she had, too, while a mere two or three feet away from him. The subject of birthdays was abandoned.

What of your Aunt Tillie, Zofia? I thought she would be joining us? Stephen asked with the faintest edge of concern in his voice. Tillie was Zofia's only living relative, since both her parents had been murdered by Vesselvod Blood when she was very young.

I left word with her. She said she'd be along, later. She'll take the Sorcerer's Tree, Zofia said, feeling as though her bodice was a bit too tight, suddenly. Or for some reason, she simply couldn't take a breath. She had donned the circa 1860's dress Tillie had made for her to wear for the town's festival. She now toyed idly with the string that tied the bodice, which came around her middle, pushing her boobs up and out, and held her stomach in, and at the moment she realized it was just a wee bit tight. But she couldn't readjust it here, while in the company of all these men—and Celestials. She would wait until she was alone in her room—if she didn't pass out by then.

Very good, Stephen said. I would hate for Ottillie to miss the Feast. She so much enjoys them.

Feast? Elton questioned. You don't mean the Induction Feast, do you?

Of course, I do, Stephen said to Elton. Your boy is very astute, Dorian. You may and to reconsider putting his name in for the Vanguard when he is old enough.

Dorian made a non-committal noise in his throat, cuffed Elton on the shoulder and artfully dodged the issue. Are there many Inductees this year? he asked.

Many, Paradeep said. And one is a late entry. A surprise to everyone who knows. His eyes gleamed Zofia's way. She wasn't sure why he held her gaze in that way, or why he smiled so. Paradeep smiled benevolently, no matter what. But his smile involved the crinkles at the corners of his erudite eyes this time. Something was up. And now her stomach lurched again. Earlier, she had thought she was in big trouble. If she were in trouble, wouldn't he be giving her a pitying look, instead? And why was it that whoever this Inductee was, it had something to do with her? It wasn't as though she expected to be Inducted. Everyone knew that Knights were always wizards. There had not been a sorceress Inducted in centuries. It was very dangerous work. Sorceresses were neither expected to join in Knighthood, nor did they desire this type of dangerous vocation. This whole business puzzled her to no end.

Ah, Sansenoy has just informed me that we are almost nearly there, Paradeep announced.

Pulled back to the present, Zofia blinked. She realized that possibly a minute or two had gone by since they'd left First World. Aside from returning to her world a few days ago, she had not stepped foot on her world for five years. When she had returned the other day, she had landed in the Haunted Wilderness. A very bleak and gray place. She'd had no time to take in the fact that she was on her own planet, then. Now, the moment gave her a thickening in the throat, and a teary-eyed feeling came over her as the portal of the Bubble opened to a lush green lawn, behind which stood a large, gray castle, blue sky arching over it all.

Withershins jumped out first. With a shake of his head and flip of his tail, he trotted out into the open courtyard, joining pure white peacocks strutting and cackling in the grass. He seemed to know this was home, and looked happy to be back, as much as did Zofia. The surrounding hills were green with the gardens and grapevines that were tended by the monks here. Zofia spotted a few in their robes working in the fields, tending their crops.

As Zofia stepped out she detected the difference too. There was a sweetness—a pureness—to the air here, that could not be found on First World any more. The sky was the purest blue, and unmarred by the crisscross of white jet trails. It was a deep blue that could not be matched, and the sun, Antares, hung like a huge fireball in the western sky. It was afternoon, she quickly surmised. But what day?

What day is it? she asked as Paradeep thread his way past her and the children.

Why, it's Moons Day, he answered with a smile. Moons Day came only once a year, when all three moons rose in the sky full and bright. This was an event, since it was nearly as bright outside during this phase of the moons, as it was now. Because of it, many festivals and carnivals were scheduled for the three nights, and everyone stayed up for them, and slept all the next day.

Now Zofia gazed up at the dark, eighty-foot tall castle walls. Restormell Castle was the largest castle in all of The Province. Topped by sculptures of six-foot gargoyles, you could see it for miles. Below the crenelations ran a ridge of stone where round face-like carvings ran all around. Zofia knew they were not faces, however. When she had first arrived as a young girl, alone and homeless, she'd looked up at these stone walls thinking they were merely faces of men. But once she came closer, she could definitely see they were human skulls—without the jaw piece. That had thrown trepidation into her, then, because she had thought wrongly that they were real skulls. The real skulls were kept in a cave, below the castle.

The hollowed-out eyes peered down at their approach. Before them, huge black doors with gold lettering proclaimed KNIGHTS OF THE WITENAGEMONT HEADQUARTERS.

Three four-foot tall, red robed monks stepped through a side door from a low tower and bowed deeply to Paradeep and Stephen as they crossed toward the castle. Their dark maroon robes, cowls folded down, identified them as Wadmund Monks. They were not Ugwumps, but a separate race. Their most distinguishing features were their pointed ears, weak chins, olive-brown mottled skin and large inky, eyes. A fringe of long, scraggly brown hair grew only at the back of their otherwise bald heads.

As Paradeep stepped near them, all three dropped to their knees at his feet.

Oh, great benevolent one!

Your most holiness!

Thrice greatest Immortal!

Chuckling lightly at them, Paradeep gestured for them to rise. Please, rise. Rise. Up, up, he said. Zofia knew from the many times she had traveled with Paradeep, although due the respect, often he discouraged such attentions slathered upon him. When she asked why, he'd said such deep devotions from others below him caused him to be ashamed that others felt so below him. That was his humility. But the Wadmund Monks were moved to do so out of sheer gratitude since it was the Immortals who had battled the Helsingas, who had enslaved the Wadmund Monks for eons, and sent them into the Underworld.

Yes, your most greatness holiness! said one. All three Monks whimpered and although still bent at the waist, heads down, backed away a few steps to give way.

I see that in the shadowpass I was gone you have been very busy, Paradeep spoke to them in that soft, pleasant voice of his. He gestured to the wooden cart full of dark purple grapes.

For wine, your lordship! one of the boldest of the three spoke, although didn't look directly up at Paradeep.

Wonderful, wonderful, Paradeep said. I have something I would like you to do for me.

Oh, anything, your Excellency! Anything! said the bold Monk.

Paradeep ushered them away. Their voices ebbed as Paradeep spoke low to them. He seemed to be giving them directives as the three Monks nodded excitedly. In a few moments they all disappeared through the same wooden door, which Zofia now remembered lead to the kitchen.

Wow, Elton said as he looked up at the tallest tower, which rose possibly seventy-five feet above the walls. First a ride in a Bubble, now this!

Dorian ruffed up his hair affectionately and then patted him on the back. This is Restormell Castle. We'll kip for a few nights and see what comes of it.

You'll find appropriate clothing in your bed chambers, Stephen said, as he led them to the main door where two huge guards stood at attention. Their long swords at their sides, their armor consisted mainly of a half-coat of mail, large heaters (a three-sided shield with a straight upper edge and the two sides curved to a point at the bottom), and half-helmets, which only covered the head, eyes and a piece of protective metal came down the nose. Heavy dark beards bristled out from beneath the helmets so that you could not see their faces. Zofia had forgotten how terrifying these guards were. They were built not unlike professional wrestlers on Ugwump TV. No one in their right minds would dare challenged them, as they stood nearly nine feet tall, and were most likely part giant.

I would suggest you change into your garments as soon as you reach your chambers, Stephen continued in a rebuking tone as he took in Blanche's manner of dress. She was in a white lace corset, and a denim mini-skirt—which revealed way too much thigh—cork sandals rounded out the ensemble. It was the newest fashion on First World, according to Blanche who whined expertly in the store to Zofia who could only roll her eyes and dig out her credit card. But here, on Euphoria, she now looked more as though she'd forgotten to dress and was parading around in her underthings.

The main door flung open and a gangly youth in drab olive robes with silver bands around the edges of the sleeves and hem, and a floppy matching hat with a white feather—the dress of the page—bumbled out.

My Lord! My Lord, welcome back! the page, who may have been about thirteen or fourteen, exclaimed. Grasping his floppy hat, which had dropped over his eyes, he yanked it off and did his best bow to his lord and master. His hair was a non-color, not quite brown, wasn't red, and it wasn't blond. He had a greasy pimply look to him as though no matter how much water and soap he used, he would never be rid of it, nor of that odd oily smell he exuded. His features were the kind you could forget the instant he walked away. Eyes popping wide, he zeroed in on Blanche. Zofia could hardly blame him, since he probably saw young women rarely, and never any as under-dressed as she was now. To say this irked her beyond measure was putting it mildly. It had taken her a very long time to relax her dress code on Blanch and Elton—but mostly Blanche—and now she would have to come down hard on her, and she could almost hear the loud arguments over hem lengths now.

Stephen barely acknowledged the boy, and instead his gaze included Zofia and her family standing beside him.

I've itineraries made up for the both of you, Stephen said in a casual tone as he spoke to Zofia and Dorian. The children are to attend the Induction Feast, as well. In between, they shall remain in their rooms. Turning to his page he said, Nelms, if you please? Hand out, he waited for Nelms, the page, to hand him something. Nelms? He turned to regard the youth, only to find him gaping open-mouthed at Blanche.

Finally noticing this, Blanche rolled her eyes. Take a picture, she drawled, it lasts longer. Arms crossed she turned away from the boy.

Seeing all this, Stephen whacked the boy on the back of the head. Nelms dropped his hat, and then snatched it up off the ground, seemingly having no ill effects from the slap. This seemed to bring him out of his momentary teenage awe, however. Stepping up, Nelms pulled something out from under his hat, and handed, first Dorian, and then Zofia a short piece of parchment each. They were elaborately penned.

Zofia read hers carefully.

Consultation with the Head Commander of the Knights

North Tower, Eighth Floor—11th Shadowpass

TEA—Garden Room off East Tower—12th Shadowpass

Induction & Feast—Great Hall—15th Shadowpass

Consultation with the Head Commander? Zofia read aloud. Her eyes snapped up to engage Stephen's. Consultation? About what? She wanted to ask him right there, but couldn't. She could barely breath. This was an official edict. He obviously knew about the demon, Erebus. After all Stephen was their most talented necromancer. Her stomach tumbled, and her hands trembled with the thought. No wonder he had told her she was to come with them, and that it was very important that she did.

Well, come in, come in! Stephen gushed, escorting them through the doorway and up a set of stairs which wound up through the tower. Stephen and Dorian strode side by side, their long legs moving them swiftly ahead of everyone else, setting the pace. Stephen's golden tail of hair shimmered down a blue velvet cloak with silver edging and a light blue silky lining. He spoke in a breezy, happy voice which bounced off ancient stone walls. The Brotherhood is just itching to see you, Dorian, he said as they rounded the stairs ahead of Zofia and the children. Zofia listened carefully, hoping to get a glimmer of what Stephen needed to see her about. But it proved futile. He would not openly speak of his meetings with anyone. Obviously his meeting with Zofia was very private, and quite serious.

The stairway in front of them poured out into a long hall draped in purple bunting, white silver damask covered the walls. Gold and crystal chandeliers held great, white tapers, yet unlit, as the low sun speared through mullioned windows. Blanche took in all this affluence without a word. Elton, however, gasped at every turn as they all Transvected up the stairs.

Is there a great hall where we eat? he asked excitedly.

Yes, there is, Zofia said as they continued up the wide hallway. We'll be dining there tonight.

Where is that servant of mine? Stephen grumbled as they made the landing. Clive!

A small man popped out from a doorway several feet ahead of them. Hands clutched together, he looked apprehensively at them. He was not much taller than the Monks, but he did not have all the physical attributes as they did—except the bald patch and a frieze of scraggly, wavy gray strands over each ear, circling to the nape of his neck. He wore very thick, wire-framed glasses, bugging his eyes out.

An Ugwump, Stephen said low to Dorian, but he's very good, really. Turning to the servant he said, Are the rooms ready for our guests?

Yes, my Lord, the odd little servant said with a deep bow.

Very good. Will you show our guests to them?"

Of course. This way, Master Grandier, Clive said with a slight bow, and extended his hand down the hallway.

I'm off to tell everyone you've arrived, Stephen caroled, as he cruised up the hallway, then disappeared through a stone arched threshold.

While Dorian and Elton were taken further down the hallway, Zofia and Blanche stood before their rooms, at the end of the wide hallway. The doors set across from one another in an oddly angled cul de sac.

Although Zofia had not forgotten the splendor of Restormell Castle, she had to marvel at what she took in through the open door.

Blanche made an impatient sound, whirled about, her hair fanning out as she did. Why are we separated?

I don't know, exactly, but the bedrooms look cozy enough, Zofia said over her shoulder. Besides, you're used to having your own room.

Well, yeah, but not in a creepy old castle. She wrinkled up her nose as she said, Smells musky.

Zofia sighed and returned a slightly put off look. It's over eight hundred years old. What do you expect? And may I remind you, you're a guest here and you will mind your manners, young lady. Do I make myself clear?

Yes, ma'am, Blanche said glumly, and slumped through the door, as though she had been banished into a dungeon. Oh, wow, her gasp came from within the room. Purple and black? My favorite colors! How could they know?

As Blanche's voice drifted out of earshot, Zofia stepped into her own quarters. The wall coverings here were white and silver silk damask, while the drapes were midnight blue velvet with decorative silver stitching mimicking stars and moons. The matching bed canopy drapes were hung back on massive posts, and the mattress looked as soft as a cloud. Most of the furnishings were