Cloaked Magic: Midlife Mage

By L.A. Boruff and Daphne Moore

This collection includes all of the books in the Midlife Mage series.

Teacher and hidden witch, Ceri, has already had a rough day when she's summoned to a party packed with psychic vampires. She was supposed to be on a boring date with safe and sturdy Nick, not dragging him along so the vampires could stare at him like… well, lunch.

Oh, but it gets worse. She returns home to see her teenage son's girlfriend has been replaced by a fetch.

Welcome to a day in the life of Ceri Gault, witch extraordinaire.

After staying as far away as possible from the supernatural, Ceri finds herself unable to escape any longer when a death omen brings trouble to her door. Now, she and her children are exposed to magical beings who live disguised among humanity

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Except everyone else is going to burn. Ceri's just going to light the fire, sit back, and enjoy the show.

**Includes all the books in Midlife Mage**

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Phantom Pen
• Release date: Apr 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223313243

L.A. Boruff

L.A. Boruff lives in East Tennessee with her husband, three children, and an ever growing number of cats. She loves reading, watching TV, and procrastinating by browsing Facebook. L.A.’s passions include vampires, food, and listening to heavy metal music. She once won a Harry Potter trivia contest based on the books, and lost one based on the movies. She has two bands on her bucket list that she still hasn’t seen: AC/DC and Alice Cooper. Feel free to send tickets.

Book preview

UNCAGED

CHAPTER 1

MARYA IRINA WALCOTT

CALL ME RINA, PLEASE

2005

It was the best of days. It was the worst of days. Oh, well. At least the day was almost over.

I indulged in a long, luxurious stretch after finishing the chart for the last patient of the day. It was two hours after closing time. I seriously needed to start disciplining myself to do files right after each patient while everything was fresh and would take no time at all. But the schedule was so tight—I squeezed as many patients in as I could, to pay the bills—and the result was working long after the office closed

The phone was set to forward to voicemail as soon as office hours ended. Not that there wouldn't be more work tomorrow, but at least soon I would be able to lock the door on my practice, go home, pour myself a tall, cold glass of lemonade, take my shoes off, and relax. Preferably with a book.

Because my life was wild and exciting!

I still had a few little tasks before leaving— Molly, the woman who covered reception and most admin tasks, had offered to help, I liked making sure the water was topped off for this week's flowers. The sunflowers bobbed cheerfully as I moved them to pour the water in. It marked the end of the day. We’d had a huge run of people today. Good for the bottom line but exhausting.

The outer door opened with an unmistakable squeak. I jumped, hopping out of my chair and peering into the reception area to see who had snuck in.

Shyla and Geoff, my best friends and colleagues, walked in. Shyla, a slender brunette with waist-length brown hair, wore a lovely dress that I didn’t recognize and a thunderous frown. Geoff, tall and spare, had relaxed enough to remove his ever-present tie and unbutton the collar of his dress shirt.

I glanced at the clock on the wall, saw the time, and it hit me.

Crap on a cracker. I was supposed to have met them at Spanky’s for supper forty-five minutes ago. Our once-a-quarter dress up and eat well date, where they often brought an extra who happened to be single. It appeared they’d run out of options this month since a plus one wasn’t with them. This dinner had been to celebrate their son’s early admittance to college. Zander was fifteen and living with his grandfather so he could attend the state university.

Crap. I was such a bad friend.

You have the right to remain silent… Shyla said, humor seasoning her annoyed tone.

Because everything I say can and will be used against me?

Pretty much, Geoff said. Lost track of time again? You should do your charting between patients, Rina. He shrugged at me. I called, but it went straight to voicemail.

We thought you were in a ditch somewhere, Shyla added.

I know, and I’m so sorry. I sighed, feeling all the guilt. Are you still hungry? Let me check my email really quick and we can go.

"Make it fast. I’m starving. Spanky’s beer cheese soup is calling my name. And we’re going to Zorbaz next week, no arguments, where’ll you’ll meet Pierce. Luckily, he had to cancel at the last-minute tonight, so we didn’t have to explain your absence." Shyla folded her arms and gave me a stern look.

Apparently, they hadn’t run out of single men. Just freaking kidding. Compelled by their hangry eyes, I hurried back to the computer and checked my email.

My younger brother had emailed my work account, flagging it as urgent. I sighed and opened it to see what fight he’d had with his boyfriend today.

When I read the first sentence, my jaw dropped. It was a forwarded email from one of our cousins. Someone had found a way to make thin-blooded people be able to use the magic they were born to.

It wasn't April first, either. This was no joke.

Oh, dear, the fat was truly in the fire then. Gran was going to be furious. This was not going to be fun.

Dear old Gran had a vested interest in supernatural beings remaining unknown to the general population.

And, well, if people like Bobby and me could tap into our magic, it might shift the family’s power dynamic a bit. Which could get ugly. I had a bunch of ambitious cousins. As in… a lot. Many. Various and sundry.

You get the picture.

My cell phone waited in my desk drawer for me to turn on. My own work ethic insisted that I follow the same rules I had in place for Molly and my tech. Fumbling in the drawer, I pulled it out and turned it on with a soft chime of greeting. I waited for the barrage of pings, because my family, both large and demanding, wouldn't stop texting me during the day even though they knew my self-imposed rule. At least there weren’t any collection agencies. I was keeping my head just above water by juggling debt from one credit card to another over and over, but every month the amount owed got a little bit smaller.

A very little bit.

Being buried in debt did that. And I had the joy of years of student loan debt and the company I’d signed on with fresh out of chiropractic school had stuck me with all the setup costs for my practice while also allowing me to pay them for the privilege of existing. Nice seeming people, but I hadn’t researched enough and that was my fault. I wouldn’t make that mistake twice. Once had cost me enough.

Strange that I’d fallen for it more than once. My boyfriend in undergrad had been the same type. Nice enough to talk with and hang with, but strictly there for what he could get.

Then in chiropractic school, no one outside the program had understood just how grueling the coursework was. Most of the other students had already been married or dating their college sweethearts and of the remaining few, I’d never clicked with anyone.

Shyla and Geoff had tried to set me up a couple of times starting in school, but none of those had worked out either.

There’d been no time for men once I had graduated and set up my practice. My life was work and family. It actually made for a pleasant routine, though Wild Me—the name I’d given to all the impulses I didn’t act on—pouted sometimes. But even she understood that no money meant I rarely went out, so the only men I met were patients. Dating them was full-blown unprofessional conduct which would cause me to lose my license in a hot minute.

Once I dug myself out of debt I would date. And I wouldn’t ask for help. Gran’s money had so many strings attached to it that it could double as a lifelong crafter’s yarn stash. A lifelong crafter with hoarding tendencies.

I turned my phone on. Hang on, urgent email!

Shyla’s eyes roll was almost audible. Hurry up!

My phone pinged. A text from my brother arrived. OMG WTF??!

Well, Bobby, I didn't know either, but I would do my best to find out.

The computer beeped as an email from Gran’s assistant arrived.

Meeting at the estate. Attendance is required, arrive pronto.

My eyes went to the time stamp on the email, then the clock. Sent almost two hours ago.

I cringed. When Gran said pronto, she meant yesterday. I was going to catch absolute hell.

Oh, well. I was forty freaking years old. I was a professional. I was not terrified of the iron fist of my grandmother.

And if I kept repeating that, I might someday believe it. Eventually.

I hurried out to the reception area.

Geoff frowned at my expression. Did someone get hurt?

Don’t know. Gran’s calling the family in, and I can’t bail. Raincheck? I’m so sorry. My voice shook a bit. Don’t judge me. Gran flustered me. She flustered everyone.

Shyla gave me a quick hug. Raincheck. Let us know everything’s all right later, okay?

I hugged her back. I will. See you.

In the car, I tried calling my younger brother Bobby, but it went straight to voicemail.

Bobby was a poster child for education as an avoidance of life—the kid was brilliant. He was working on his second Ph.D., fluent in Hindi, and flatly refused to stop going to school until somebody offered him a minimum salary of a quarter million a year. He’d already gotten offers for over a hundred thousand, but he wanted an adult job.

I rolled my eyes at him whenever that topic came up, or his arguments as to why he shouldn’t move out of our parents’ house.

He was the baby, fifteen years younger than me, and had been a happy surprise. So, he got away with anything he wanted. I was pretty sure he could show up with two new boyfriends and the corpse of someone they’d murdered, and Mother would just murmur that the backyard wasn’t zoned for graves and Father would lecture him on proper body disposal while coming up with ways to help him with the problem. There would be absolutely nothing resembling censure in their tones.

I’d have felt like Cinderella except that I knew they’d do the same for me. I’d also get the lecture about being more responsible, though. My ex-boyfriend had no idea of his lucky escape.

I listened to the news instead of music as I headed for my grandmother's house. The drive was pretty close to the old song. I had to cross a bridge, and she lived on a thousand-acre lot surrounding a lake. Over the river and through the woods. Heh.

Since there was an old dock on the lake from before she bought the properties, Gran had to allow a strip of unfenced land for public access to the water. She’d quickly let it get overrun with poison ivy, poison sumac, nasty bugs…I wouldn’t put it past her to import fire ants and murder hornets. It had been a while since someone had fought their way through all that to the lake. For pretty much everyone, getting there just wasn’t worth the trouble. On the rare occasions that someone did manage to make it all that way, she hired them.

For some reason, she viewed it as a test. If they were strong and stubborn enough to slog through all the barriers, she wanted that person working for her. And they always agreed to work for her, because Gran’s employment opportunities were in the can’t refuse category. Or if they did refuse, they had a nice little plot of land waiting for them, with a subterranean view. The mafia had nothing on my Gran.

For my parents and Bobby, it was a good two-hour drive, one way, to see her. For me it would only be a half-hour because I'd opted to put my practice in a small town.

Not small enough to be considered for that doctor’s student loan forgiveness program for underserved areas, of course. Another error my practice startup company made, though I should have checked that too.

Blind trust was no longer in my arsenal.

The town was just far away enough from my parents to prevent casual visits, and my grandmother never visited anyone. Ever. She summoned them if she wanted to talk. The queen did not exit her castle for anyone.

Pride being a deadly sin, being in her vicinity would have made a saint scared.

How’d she manage this status, other than being filthy stinkin’ rich?

Gran was a real, honest-to-goodness elf. Tall, slender, beautiful, apparently eternally young. She did something to make herself look old when she had to interact with the rest of the world because they were bound to be a little suspicious of her eventually. For us, she was her gorgeous self.

I wished once again I'd inherited some of her looks, but I at least got the brains. A fair deal, even if it wasn’t as good as it could have been. I could’ve had brains and beauty. The ability to avoid money scams would’ve been nice.

She had magic powers too. Whenever a baby was born or someone was married, they made the trip to Grandma’s house and met her. Gran’s invitation to do so left no room for an adult to refuse- and she was generous, well acquainted with using a carrot to lure people in. Once there, she cuddled the infant and told them that they would say nothing about what they saw or heard about her or the house with anyone who wasn’t in the family. If they tried to talk about it later, they found they couldn’t. Adults didn’t get cuddled, just a spit-drying stare and soft order.

It even worked on babies. I’d never been able to gossip about personal things, despite really wanting to tell everyone in kindergarten about my amazing Gran.

I kinda wished I had inherited those powers. It would’ve made life so much easier. Mom had told me it made her sad, too. She’d hoped Bobby and I would get the family gift.

Instead, she taught us to always be aware of our surroundings and to project confidence to keep the other cousins from picking on us.

The closer we were to human, the more the family looked down on us. It was part of why I kept my friendship with Shyla and Geoff quiet. I didn’t want the cousins to discourage the friendship by targeting them or their practice. Not least because I’d retaliate, and then there’d be a feud for Gran to stop.

She could get seriously brutal dealing with internal conflicts like that.

I made the turn down the hidden drive, my car protesting for the first hundred feet—the family all had 4-wheel drives to deal with that section. Steep and rocky, it was a horror during the winter, holding on tight and hoping for the best. When I pulled out of the forest, I raised my brows.

Everyone had shown up. Cars were everywhere. The lawn, the driveway, and even up beside the house. All the extended family, all the cousins. There must’ve been fifty people here.

My car had barely rolled to a stop when Jane, my grandmother’s assistant, ran out of the big front door. She got to my car right as I put it in park, an impressive sprint considering there were a hundred yards between there and the front door. I’d had to park way out. There was nowhere any closer.

Get in there. You need to get in there now, she urged, breathless. Half of her hair had straggled out of its careful twist, which was strange. She never allowed herself to look this unprofessional, so something must really be wrong for her to look so frazzled.

Given her distress, I opted to jog for the door. I wasn’t quite committed enough to run, but definitely did more than my usual walk. Through the front window, looking into the big formal living room, I caught sight of my parents and Bobby, all looking stunned, seated at the side of the room. A couple of cousins sat next to them, equally gobsmacked. Then Cody and William, the largest of my cousins, reached out the front door, grabbed my arms, and hustled me forward, my feet barely touching the floor, through the entry and into the living room. They kept me moving straight over to where Grandma sat in her big leather chair. Her throne, we said when she was definitely out of earshot.

Oh, there were going to be words later about being manhandled, even if they’d done it because Gran had ordered them to. Especially since they didn’t let me go once we arrived in front of Gran.

Some might’ve called the piece of furniture a chair, sure but I’d always thought of it as a throne—old, and large, made of heavy dark wood. Elaborate carving decorated the arms and legs, some of it with inlay. Mother of pearl, I guessed, but I’d never been close enough to really look at it. Getting that close required permission from the lady herself, and I didn’t like being the center of her attention for that long of a time.

I’d have been panicking if I hadn’t been pissed at my cousins for manhandling me. Each of them was twice my weight and worked out. Everyone knew I was in good shape. Wild Me really wanted to twist free but waiting seemed a better idea until I knew what the crap was going on.

Gran looked…unhappy. Not angry though, thank providence.

Marya Irina. I wish you had come earlier. Her voice was crisp as a green apple and almost as sour. I really wished she’d call me Rina but had never quite dared to tell her so. Everyone else called me that, from the time I was a baby.

Mom said Marya was an unlucky name. My aunt Edith’s first name was Marya, too. I had no idea why they named a girl an unlucky name every generation. Tradition or some crap.

She reached over to the dainty end table next to the throne and picked up a small knife.

Uh-oh. Knives in Gran’s hands were never good. My heart tried to pound right out of my chest.

Suddenly, the hands holding my upper arms became a lot scarier. I peeked up. Cody looked stern but William had a sick expression. Something was very wrong.

Nice to know they were still holding me in place, though. Wild Me was strongly suggesting we get the hell out of here.

It looked like the blade was made of flint. Not that that made it any less dangerous, because it still looked sharp enough to carve a piece out of me. I'd never seen it before. But the way she handled the thing it was something either precious or irreplaceable, potentially both. I jumped when she cut her arm, the knife leaving a line of red behind it. Gran didn’t even flinch, as if she didn’t feel the pain. Maybe she really was made of ice.

In the time it took me to almost relax now that she wasn’t coming at me with the knife, Gran swiped her hand across the blood and touched the middle of my forehead.

Oh, my goodness, gross. Did she have any idea how many diseases were bloodborne?

Gran! I protested indignantly.

Sealed twice in blood. For better or for worse, the vessel is primed. Gran’s voice was funny. Low and more melodic than usual, it was almost like a chant. Her eyes were literally glowing, a pale blue light shining from her irises, like a bad special effect. A cold chill ran down my spine. This wasn’t good. I wiggled, trying to see if I had any room to break free, but they had an iron grip. I wasn’t going anywhere.

For this, you were named, Marya Irina. Her voice went back to normal and oh. Mm-hmm. Yeah. There was the haughty Gran. Had you arrived earlier, there would have been time for explanation. Release her.

Their hands left my arms as if I were suddenly red hot. I nearly stumbled backward.

To cover my misstep, I turned and searched for my family. Mother was shaking and looked confused and afraid. Father seemed upset, and a cousin was holding his shoulder, obviously keeping him from rising. Bobby had a strange expression—scared and worried, yes. But also, a streak of annoyance. He wasn’t the center of attention, and he never liked that.

I hoped he didn’t start acting up. Whatever this was, it didn’t look good, and Gran got physical about discipline. A worried feeling grew in my gut. I didn’t want Bobby on the receiving end of that.

Gran, what's going on? Why is everyone here? I reached up toward my forehead, maybe to wipe the blood off, maybe just to see if it would help me figure out what the hell was going on.

Pain hit me like a lightning bolt. I staggered, and Cody steadied me, a light grip on my shoulder and arm, in contrast to how he’d held me before.

The agony yanked me in a thousand different directions, and I felt as if I were being torn into a million pieces. Screaming, what a good idea! I could only hear my own voice echoing in my ears, no sound of anything else like I was in a void.

My eyes closed in the agony, so I hung in darkness and silence. I couldn't even feel the hands on my shoulder and arm, although there was some vague sense that something was touching me.

The pain and darkness went on and on and on. And on, geez.

Toward the end, everything that was me was curled up in a ball really wishing that I hadn't answered Gran’s summons. Next time, they’d have to catch me. I was moving to California and changing my phone number. Maybe farther. Maybe I’d forget my debt and live on an island. I liked to fish. I could live off of coconut milk and—

The pain stopped as suddenly as it began, and I could breathe again. I relished the sensation, reveling in being free of pain for a moment.

CHAPTER 2

RINA

I opened my eyes. Dang it, Toto. Now what? I wasn’t in the house anymore. I was lying in thick grass, staring up at an intensely blue sky, with nearby trees at the edge of my vision. Something tight and uncomfortable covered me from head to toe.

A man I didn’t know knelt next to me. Shoulder-length black hair hung around a face that looked like it had been made by a master sculptor in the Renaissance. I blinked and looked him over, still reeling. He wore a black ren faire style shirt. The sheer wave of melting hotness radiating off of him was only mitigated by the sneer on his face.

Awake? Good. You’re back in my realm now, Marya. Then with his other arm, he cupped the back of my head with an ungentle hand and yanked me to my feet, so I was chest to chest with him.

What the hell?

Then, he kissed me. And I mean kissed. Toe popping, write a book about it. Sing a song and fortify my knees. Fireworks went off in my head. This was incredibly hot, like the antihero in any number of books I’d normally deny reading. After a stunned moment, reality asserted itself, and I tried to rear back.

Not happening. Stranger danger. Even if Wild Me was pointedly asking, um, why not?

I didn’t budge, the arm around me was too strong. There was no point.

What the heck was going on? I pulled and pushed bodies around every day all day long for a living. I wasn’t physically weak by anyone’s standards. Twice in a day, I was being manhandled.

Nope. Not today. If they wanted to get physical, I would too.

Clenching a fist, I punched him as hard as I could in the ribs.

Not without my permission. I may never have been pretty or popular, but I sure as hell wasn't going to sit and let myself be mauled either.

My knuckles cracked when the punch connected, and I yelped into his mouth.

He stopped and pulled back a few inches, enough for me to see his face. A suspicious and quizzical expression met my glare. His eyes were a blue so dark they were almost black and intense, and his lashes were longer and thicker than mine.

Why was I noticing that? Keep on track!

Get your damn hands off me. I shoved him, but he didn’t move. His hands still pressed against my back and cupped my head, though his grip had softened minutely. Who the hell are you? I tended to get a bit potty-mouthed when I was upset.

He regarded me, his expression shifting from suspicion to wary amusement. Now there’s the fierceness I expected. He tutted. But ineffectual at fighting, nor trying to seduce me again. The magic is still confined. Not the same at all.

I tried to look behind me in case he was talking to someone else.

What happened? Where am I? Who are you? The questions spilled out of me as I strained backward, trying to put as much space between us as I could before he started kissing me again. It was like a moment from the old-style bodice rippers, where the girl’s ‘body betrayed her.’

Not that I had devoured those as an adolescent who really didn’t know better. Or possibly more modern versions, as an adult who did know better, but read them because I enjoyed them. Sue me. A fantasy kink wasn’t anything to be ashamed of.

I wasn’t in the habit of picking strangers up, though. If I had been, I would’ve been the one who made that decision, not my glands. Getting the courage up had always been the problem. By the time I was ready, my object of lust had always drifted away. This time? I wasn’t going to be made to do anything, even if it was straight out of my longest-running fantasy. With props.

Twenty questions weren’t normally part of any fantasies either.

You aren’t Marya. A virgin yaga, yes, but not Marya. Who are you? He spoke the words with a combination of annoyance and curiosity. It was difficult not noticing just how strong he was as I still didn’t move, despite my best effort. Also, we were still close enough that I could feel his breath on my face. Which made goosebumps rise.

I collected my thoughts with effort. Yaga. Gran had called herself that every once in a while. Elf annoyed her. How’d he know I was a virgin?

My name is Rina.

First and middle names. His eyes had drifted to my mouth.

Marya Irina. My voice squeaked, self-consciousness rising up. Though if he really wanted to, and I did, what was the harm?

Of course, it is. Anger and humor glittered in eyes as blue as the Caribbean. I could drown in them. Not that I had any plan on doing that. I could swim, thank you very much. They’d been darker earlier. Maybe they changed with his moods.

He released me, and I scrambled backward, getting to my feet. The grass skidded under my butt. Whatever shoes I was wearing needed more traction. Looking down, I found I was wearing some kind of faux alligator skin armor—skin-tight but patterned with dark gray and blue scales. I was also taller and had lost at least twenty pounds.

Thirty if I was being really honest.

What. The. Hell?

Lacing held the armor together at the joints and tightened it against my skin. It covered me all over except for my head and face, including flat slipper-like shoes. I touched the side of my face and found the edge of a snug hood. When I pushed the hood back, a huge mass of pale blonde hair cascaded down.

Blonde hair…Attached to my head. Had I somehow gotten a wig put on me while I was out?

I yanked the hair to pull it off.

Ow. Not a wig, and very much attached. Had I been unconscious long enough for a bleach session? I tugged the hair near my nose. No. It would’ve smelled like the chemicals used to lighten it.

My brain began to reject all this mess. This had gotten too darn weird. I didn’t want to panic, but this was just too much.

The man rose with a kind of liquid grace that reminded me of Gran just before she hauled off and hit someone. His tunic came to his knees, over baggy trousers and calf-high boots. Color-coded as the villain in this movie, how convenient.

I tensed, ready to run like my life depended on it. Taking a step back from his almost overpowering presence—he was big, almost a foot taller than me—I looked around. This place was unsettling—so many trees, and all of them old. I’d only ever been in state parks that had old-growth forests like this. The sun was obscured by the trees. It must’ve been close to evening, or maybe sunrise, since I had no idea of east or west. Or the local time. Assuming I hadn’t lost any time, it should’ve been about eight in the evening.

Where are my clothes? I blurted.

He laughed. I have no idea. However, since you aren’t the person to whom that body originally belonged, you might wish to know that you're wearing the tanned skin of a sapient being. A dragon, one of the zhmey, to be precise.

I gaped at him, not sure what to do. It was possible that he was lying. I had no idea. The grim note in his laugh made me think he wasn’t.

Come along, woman. You're going to be here for a while, so I'm going to show you a place where you can sleep without worrying about predators. He turned and walked several paces, then glanced back over his shoulder.

My brain just wanted to yell at him and demand more answers. I have a name. Where are we? I stayed in place, trying to not think about the second half of his sentence. The full reality of the situation kept knocking on the door in my mind, but I kept it shut. Now was not the time for an anxiety attack.

He snorted. You’re difficult, like your relative. Fine. Sadly, there’s no satisfaction to be had in beating you. Too easy.

Excuuuuse me? Pardon moi? Crossing my arms, I glared at him, hiding the worry. When Gran said things like that, she meant it literally. I had to assume this man did as well.

He turned to face me, the sun bringing out the black-on-black embroidery on his tunic. A dangerous gleam slid into his eyes. I like this backtalk. It’s been a long time since I spoke with a humanoid mammal, much less a female one. I’ll answer three questions, and in exchange, you’ll cooperate with traveling to the house.

A concession? Weird as his phrasing was, I’d take it.

Why am I here? Who are you? How do I get back home?

Your soul was switched with another’s when this body was traveling here, I am Alexi, and you can return by persuading me to send you back. His smile held so many sharp edges it could have been stock for a knife store.

Stunned, I gaped at him.

Extending a hand, he waited. It took a moment. My knees were watery, but I steeled myself and walked up to him. What choice did I have? There was nobody around. Nothing but huge, old, trees.

Alexi’s hand was very warm in mine.

We flickered, and my stomach flickered in a way that didn’t bode well for the last meal I’d eaten, a long-ago, snarfed-down lunch, and then we stood in a vegetable garden near a one-story wooden house with shuttered windows. A rough cottage, topped with thatch, straight out of a fairy tale illustration. A pretty wooden door faced us, carved with animals. Flat steppingstones led to the house, maybe fifty feet away from us. A series of stony steaming pools and a small stream, not steaming, on the other side of the house completed the picture. I expected some wicked witch to come out and convince me to step into her gigantic stew pot.

That, or someone singing to birds, possibly with a poisoned apple.

I had no idea how he’d moved us. Obviously, he was some kind of supernatural being. While I knew they existed outside my family, I’d never had any information on any but elves, and he didn’t look like an elf at all. Are you a wizard?

Judging from his extended bout of laughter, he wasn't. Then again, after finishing his laughter, he didn’t deign to tell me what he was.

A softer smile lingered on his face. No. But I have enough power left to travel to this place. You, my dove, are in for a steep learning curve. Do you know what kin you are?

I'm a Walcott.

He stared at me, an incredulous expression on his face. I scuffed the toe of one of the sock-shoes and then remembered that wait, this might be the skin of something. Probably shouldn’t do that. Is there anywhere I can change? Do you have some regular clothes I could use?

He held up a hand. Before that, you did not know the name of your people?

Um. You said yaga before? Is that it? Because even though we call Gran a witch, I’ve always thought of myself as human. So there, I remembered.

His eyes closed as he apparently prayed for something. Then he beckoned me to follow, and we walked to the door.

Be gentle, he told the knob, carved like a snarling wolf. It was wooden but so realistic, I didn’t want to touch it.

Then to me, Turn it.

This better not bite m—ow! What the crap? I yanked my hand back and glared at the door.

The doorknob-wolf had bitten me hard enough to draw blood. I cradled my hand, wanting to growl at Alexi, the doorknob, and everything in this freaking place. The throbbing in my hand did at least keep panic at a distance.

The door swung open, and I walked in front of him, stomping so that if anything else tried to bite, they’d think twice about it.

Small, dark and cluttered, the interior had doors on either side of the room. I didn’t register much in the way of detail as Alexi brushed past me to a cabinet. Opened, it revealed a tumble of red cloth he pulled out and tossed to me.

Go to any of the rooms off of the halls, Dove, get dressed, and then come back out. We have a lot to talk about.

I shook it out. A red caftan, decorated with lots of silver embroidery. Better than dragon skin.

Why did he have women’s clothing in closets in his living room? Never mind, focus on the fact that the tone in his voice when he called me dove was strange to me. Was dove what he wanted to call me or the person whose body I was in?

Panic knocked harder on my mind’s door. Not much time left before I couldn’t cope with the attack at all anymore. I opened the door on the left and stepped into a hall that shouldn’t have existed based on, I don’t know, physics and stuff. I opened a door at random and walked into another room.

At least it wasn’t dark. Lit by an unshuttered window, it was furnished with a bed, a night table, and a small chest.

Moving fast, I shut the door, dropped the handy bar across it, and ran for the bed as the panic burst through the mental door. I sat on it, curled forward, breathing through the jumble of thoughts. Where am I? What should I do? Will I be here forever? Was he going to try to rape me to get even with the woman he was mad at? Why was I even wondering when he’d let me go as soon as he knew I wasn’t her? Was whatshername going to kill my family?

I shivered, breathing, focusing on just that, as the waves of panic crashed over me. Nausea clenched my gut, and I tasted acid, but thankfully the wave receded before I was sick all over the floor.

Keeping a steady breathing cycle and forcibly unclenching my muscles, I finally opened my eyes. The room was pleasant, actually, with whitewashed walls and the smell of flowers drifting in through the open window. The bed was covered with a bright blue blanket and a fluffy pillow.

Urgh, I still had on the armor. Made from someone, apparently. All right. Off it goes. Buh-bye.

I began at my waist, looking for seams or ties. It felt like supple leather, with lacings on the sides as well as the shoulders to hold on the arms and knees and hips for the legs.

Thinking about the material, and what he’d said, I cringed. Hopefully, he was lying, but I could totally see Gran wearing dragonskin, even if the dragon wasn’t an animal per se. She could be ruthless.

Creepy beyond belief, the thought of being clothed in the remains of something that was supposed to be intelligent made panic try to creep back.

So do something about it, Rina.

The cords that laced it together on my side were pulled tight, coated in places with what was probably blood. I wore a belt with a scabbard on my hip, too, but there was no weapon in it. probably a good thing, considering that the first thing he’d done when I’d woken up was kiss me without my permission.

I stood and unknotted the belt, dropping it on the floor. Then I took some time picking at the cords to the side until I had loosened them. It hadn’t felt tight but having it off my skin felt like a victory. My first here. It looked like it wouldn’t come off until I untied the arms and legs though.

Success built on success. The shoulders went faster, and I started dropping the pieces of armor to the floor as quickly as I could remove them. It might’ve been disrespectful, but I had absolutely no idea what to do with it. Underneath the armor, I wore a scooped athletic t-shirt and leggings that were sticky with sweat and other stains.

It was them or the caftan. I shook it out. No odor other than a faint whiff of cedar. The caftan at least was clean. That decided me.

I couldn’t avoid examining my body as I peeled the shirt and pants off and shook my head. It wasn’t similar to my real body at all. Where I was short and curvy this body was tall and slender with well-cut muscles pretty much everywhere. Freakin’ six pack, for goodness’s sake. And more hair than you could shake a stick at…pale gold, fine and thick, it fell past my butt.

It probably tangled up like nobody’s business, too. And I had no comb.

Focusing on minutiae beat the second wave back. If I was in this body, I might as well consider how to take care of it. Finding a comb, or a pair of scissors shot to the top of the list. Heck, I’d never had muscle definition like this.

What had Gran done? What did the whole sealed twice in blood even mean? Why was my name special? From what he’d said, this must have all been planned, and since my aunt was named Marya too, had been planned for a while. Did my immediate family know anything other than Gran had said my first name needed to be Marya?

No. Thinking about that led to madness. They couldn’t have known.

Why had she done it? She didn’t give up what was hers. She must’ve been afraid of this woman. Which meant this Marya woman was a truly scary person. It was hard to imagine, given how formidable Gran was.

At least whoever had been in this body previously hadn’t worn a thong. An athletic bra, thank goodness since while she was slender, she’d also been on the busty side.

No shower…I stared out the window. The river was there and steaming pools. Given the lack of plumbing, I bet that was the bathing facilities.

Armor off, I itched. A low-level freak-out drummed at the back of my head. I had blood on me. Why was there blood splattered on me?

If there was something I could use as a bucket in the main room…clean was worth it. And I’d have to deal with Alexi again soon anyway.

CHAPTER 3

MARYA MOREVNA

Surrounded by my extended family, I raised my hands and examined them. Long-fingered at least, they were uncalloused, unused to gun or blade.

My granddaughter’s granddaughter, fear easy to read in her eyes, rose from her chair and bowed low to me, offering me her seat.

The number of people gathered here indicated discretion hadn't been on the agenda when she’d summoned the transfer subject to her estate. We’d discuss that later, in privacy. I had no wish to upset the way she organized her minions. Family. Whatever she considered them.

I sat and then rolled my eyes at the fact that my legs dangled. A muffled laugh echoed from somewhere among my descendants.

The sound came from this body's younger brother. From the shouting outside, I gathered this body’s parents had been hustled outside for the inevitable expressions of unhappiness at the switch. Being merciful, I would permit the expression, so long as it didn’t go on too long.

I’d made a point of memorizing her familial connections before this last battle had started. Fortune favored the prepared, though Fate was a fickle bitch. You. Robert. Approach.

My new voice was higher pitched, more childish than I liked. It would take a few demonstrations to make people leap when I commanded now. Unless the previous owner had found a way around this hindrance.

The youth walked forward in a quick silent fashion, finally showing a flicker of common sense. His face bowed as if he was afraid that I would sense his fear and anger. As if both weren’t blatantly obvious. This child, at least, had some fire to him. She is a chiropractic physician is she not?

Yes.

Then you will do the actual chiropractic duties. Another petty irritation. In order to use this identity, I needed to maintain its normal activities.

It doesn't work that way. People go to school to learn how to do that. And my schooling is very academic, not a trade school. Robert glanced up at me, annoyance plain to be read on his face. From the tone when he said trade school, there was an insult contained in that comment, but I didn’t have the inclination to parse it out

In view of his ignorance, I didn’t backhand him. Next time I would.

He’d provide all kinds of amusement. Keeping him close would be entertaining. I hadn’t kept a jester in centuries. You're intelligent. Make it work. If you cannot do it, find someone who can and bring them to me.

How long does he have to find someone? asked my granddaughter.

I flipped a hand. This body will do. I need to get used to it. A week, I think.

He did not look properly grateful. We’d have to have a discussion or three to see that he acquired the proper attitude. Which was good. I was perturbed at the world at the moment. Driven from my body, and the effort I’d need to expend to unseat my rivals among the kins would distract from my long-term goals.

Ah, well. One did the best they could with what they had at hand.

CHAPTER 4

RINA

Squaring my shoulders, I left the room and went back to the main area, wearing the caftan. No bucket in my room, no bucket here…still cluttered, still dim, but I spotted a towel and a pottery container in the cabinet that had contained the caftan. When I opened the container, herbal soft soap was revealed. My luck was changing a little.

I gathered them up and headed for the river. I gave the steaming pools a wistful look, but I didn’t know how hot they were and didn’t feel much like being boiled alive. I’d read about people being literally melted in Yellowstone Park pools, and I wasn’t going to risk even a fingertip.

At least they didn’t smell of rotten eggs. No sign of Alexi, either.

Setting the caftan aside, I waded in ankle-deep, splashing myself with water and scrubbing away with the soap. The smell of it relaxed me a little, clean and fresh, rather than rank from killing or hurting unknown people—or whatever had left the blood on this body. Once clean, everything I’d been wearing went into the stream with me, soaping it up and cleaning as best I could. I had the caftan to change into, but I also wanted underwear.

The wind felt distinctly cooler as I laid the clothing on the grassy bank and wrapped myself in the tiny towel. The caftan looked nice and warm, so I pulled it on even though I was still pretty damp.

Mmm, lovely warm clothing. The enveloping folds fell around me to my ankles. The fabric was definitely opaque enough to wear without him being able to see the lack of underclothing. At this point, I wanted to keep any dignity still available. I remained barefoot because the greaves and slippers had all been made out of that leather too.

Instead of going back inside, I sat and watched the water for a while. When the light dimmed, I gathered the now-dry clothes and went back in, feeling quite a bit calmer. I still needed to figure things out, but I no longer had panic hammering at me.

Entering the cottage, I approved of the thick woven rug on the floor. It felt good and warm on my feet. Given more time to absorb sensory input, a faint herbal smell from bunches of plants hung on the wall lingered in the air. The house was already weird. It looked quite small from the outside, but on the inside the hallway seemed to go on forever. And there were no windows overlooking the stream on the outside.

There were stairs up in the corner, too, even though it looked like a single story from the outside.

It might all have been smoke and mirrors, but I was also in somebody else's body in a place I'd never been before, so being a skeptic seemed kind of foolish. Accept and figure out how to go on. That was the only way to survive.

A big wood-burning stove took up most of the wall, currently not lit. Which was good, since it was pleasantly warm in the room without it. The walls were covered with what could at best be described as fairy tale cottage lite—bits of clothing, tools, bundles of herbs, leather, and animal pelts.

Alexi came down the stairs, nodding to me as he crouched to put some wood in the stove. Have you settled into your new body?

Hands down, that won the weirdest question ever award, but it did sum up how it felt. With every minute, the changes felt less important, and this felt like my body. Which it wasn’t. I don’t know, could this be my body transformed?

It was a hope.

He shook his head. Marya is unlike any other, and the armor you wore is also unique.

Are you going to tell me what's going on? I found my hands clenching the sleeves of the caftan. Possibly I wasn’t as calm as I was pretending to be, even to myself. Time to draw on Normal Me who took charge and told people what they had to do.

Alexi seemed to consider me for a moment before speaking. It looks like Marya, the most powerful yaga I know of, had a backup plan in case something injured her to the point of death. A long time ago, I gave her a boon. If she were ever dying, she’d return to my side, healed. You, my dear, are the sacrificial goat put in her place. She switched bodies with you when this body was injured beyond normal repair. My best guess is that you're a descendant of hers, from what you said apparently named after her. So, you served as a substitute for her when that set of circumstances came up. She’s left you hung out to dry. Born to serve as a backup plan to keep her from falling into my hands.

A long pause as I stared at him. No words really covered it. I didn’t think Mother or Father could’ve possibly known, but Gran abso-freaking-lutely did. She hadn’t wanted to do it. That much was plain by the way she’d acted, but maybe she’d been scared not to. She might not have had a choice.

A very faint gleam of sympathy crossed his face. The purpose of your birth doesn’t drive your fate, Dove. Remember that.

I wasn't sure if I could believe him but doubted he would lie to comfort me either. Is there a way to get my body back?

Settling on his heels and tilting his head to look up at me, he shrugged. I have no idea. Not my specialty. Why would you want it back? The one you're in is immortal, or damn close to it, and very well made.

My heart rate accelerated at his smoldering expression. I took a step back at the heat in his eyes as his gaze traveled from my new wild blonde hair down to my bare toes. No.

Not well made? Mischief sparked in his smile. He knew that wasn’t what I meant at all.

No, I'm not going to have sex with you without knowing you. I want to get that out in front, before you try anything else.

He chuckled. It was actually an infectious laugh, but I was in far too sour a mood to let it sway me in the least. Understood. Keep in mind, it's probably going to be a long time before you leave here. And you’re the only mammalian humanoid in this place, other than me.

Nope, not asking for clarification on that yet. If you don’t like her, why are you sort of helping me?

Because you can alleviate my boredom. You’re the only other person here. He spread his hands. I’m a little bit delighted to see you.

I sat down on one of the two chairs hard. Who and what are you? Where are we?

As I said, you can call me Alexi. What I am is almost the last of the koschei, chained here by the original occupant of your body, and currently trapped in this dimension. And this dimension is far from the one you call home. We’ll need to find a way to travel from here if we hope to ever leave. Though since you’re of yaga heritage as well… He got a speculative look on his face, examining me, as if trying to see the real me behind the skin of this different body. "There are ways to awaken a yaga’s power. We could work something out, try that and see if your power will free us."

If only I had any idea what you were talking about, I snapped. Though if I was honest with myself, it made sense that Gran would’ve kept us weak. I could totally see her doing that. Easier that than killing the ones who challenged her.

"You’ll find out. We have nothing but time. If you have enough of the yaga gifts, we can see about letting you free in exchange for certain, ah, favors. Shall we work together to find a way to get you out of here?" Wide blue eyes met mine, without a trace of the sexual interest that had been there a moment before

I nodded. I don't trust you. I don't know if I'll cooperate with you. But I do want out of here. I want to be sure my family is okay.

Alliances have been built on less. What would you like for supper?

You know what? Roll with it. Ask for the moon. Shoot for the stars, blah blah… A low country seafood boil.

Alexi barked out a surprise laugh and rose to his feet. Explore, then, and join me in an hour. It’ll take that long to call it here.

With easy, graceful movements, he passed me and strode off down the hall, the black clothing fluttering around him. And he looked good doing it, too, as much as I didn’t want to admit it.

An hour for the food to arrive? We were in a place that had delivery? Of something like a seafood boil? What the eff?

All the questions that hadn't been answered were still fluttering around my head. Like very angry butterflies. I wanted to know what was going on. When we ate, I’d get it out of him. If nothing else, I’d pester him until he spilled the beans.

Annoyance nibbled at me more and more, a wonderful replacement for other emotions.

I wanted to know so much, and I’d found out so little.

More frustration welled up in me, and I paced the small clear area of the room. The heavy hem of the caftan swung around my ankles. It was also really weird to be wearing something like this. It belonged in my Gran's closet, a relic from the seventies. Even if it was really gorgeous, once I took a look at it. It felt like silk, and the embroidery was beyond anything I’d ever seen on clothing.

On my third turn around the room, I spotted shelves by the stove, half hidden by a pile of large furs. Oh, they had books on them. Please be fiction, please be fiction. Scurrying closer, I discovered none of the spines had titles I could see, so I shifted the heavy pile to see more. I pulled one out. The cover was leather, carved with what looked like leaves in an ornate but stylized design. The binding was also leather, and the pages made of thick paper. It had a clasp which seemed to indicate that either this book locked, or it needed to be held shut.

I pulled a second book out, setting the first on the floor next to me. The leather work on this one was worn smooth but still gorgeous, a human figure on the cover rendered in minute detail. The faint pleasant paper smell wafted from the edges of the pages. I poked at the clasp. It wasn't locked. The mechanism was actually pretty simple to open.

Flipping pages, since it hadn’t shown a title on the spine or the cover, I found it was written in Russian. Ha! Mom had insisted I learn to read and write it. Language was not a barrier.

I moved back to the chair, and held it open on my lap. It was bigger than a normal book, even larger than a coffee table art book, and heavy.

The spelling was irregular and some of the words were unfamiliar, so I read slowly. On the first page, I found out the title was Kins, dominions, and commentaries.

Good, This might explain some of what Alexi was talking about. I was a bit suspicious of the way that my most pressing questions were being answered by this book, but if it actually gave me information, I was willing to let the weird pass. Maybe it was the magical version of my phone hearing me talking about measuring spoons or a new DVD player, then all of a sudden ads coming up for the very thing I was after. That was technology, not magic. This could be something similar. I assured myself to keep from freaking out.

I flipped more pages. They were heavy and thick, like rag paper I’d run across at a craft fair. The book was handwritten, not printed..

Kins.

While all know the kins are creations of the NightQueen and DayKing, I have discovered the conceit that they are conceived by the pair of them breaks down upon examination. Some kins, such as the Daoine Sidhe, were created by one. In that case, the DayKing. Others, while they were created by one or both, have given their allegiance to only one or have chosen to be neutral in the ties of the Reckoning. Many of their names are lost, since those were often extinguished by their progenitors.

The term kin best fits a people who have similar abilities. Either shapeshifting into a specific beast (see changing kins), or elemental composition (rusalka, for example), and so forth. This leaves humanity as a puzzle, since while the gift for manipulating magic is in all of them, few are able to use it. Thus, are mages the kin or is all of humanity?

I flipped the page.

The first entry was titled lilim, with an illustration of a beautiful woman and man, errr, embracing, under the heading. Yeah, they were straight up doing it.

Heat rose to my cheeks. Whoever had drawn it had put effort and detail into the illustration. I flipped the page again, seeking text.

Drinkers of energy, it said, and dangerous and sly. I flipped the page. The next people were something called daoine sidhe. There was a drawing of their ears, which looked like elf ears, and a bunch of stuff about ruthless ambition and commanding other people—a power called a geas? geasing?

Whatever. Pronouncing it was the least of my worries.

Whoever wrote this had either not heard of the term alphabetical order or didn’t care. Luckily, yaga was the third entry. When the person wrote this section the pen pressed into the paper really hard

The illustration was a line drawing, in a similar style to the other illustrations. A beautiful woman stared out at me, with a face and body full of confidence, an effect like magic in one hand and a knife in the other.

She looked a lot like Gran, though there were differences too. I swallowed.

Marya, strongest of the yaga. The yaga are unusual among the kins by virtue