Brenna clicked her tongue impatiently as she looked through the mortal’s things. He would make an entertaining plaything, this Connor. He seemed congenial and flexible, but he had a strong will in him, this one. It would be great fun breaking that will, watching him crumble in weakness. They all crumbled, eventually. They all crawled, begging and pathetic, to her.

She stroked the inky black beads of her ebony necklace. Each piece represented a human man whose will she had captured, a traill. Many of the baobh sidhe kept such trinkets to display the number of slaves they’d made over the centuries, but few had such a collection as Brenna. Her beaded necklace was a lengthy rope, looped and wrapped around her slender neck many times, and hanging in loops from her white throat to her narrow waist.

This one would be an easy mark. He had no woman of his own, merely toys of his own that passed through his life. It would serve a justice of a sort, to enthrall and use him. He was of the wretched White King, more’s the pity, but his connection to the throne was weak at best. His frumpy, self-righteous guardian treoraich would do nothing without being given orders and power from above, and Brenna was shrewd enough to make sure that the man did not realize he needed help until it was too late. She had done this many times before. His fealty to the King was weak, and his appetites were strong. Brenna did not fear that he would prove especially difficult to capture.

If anything, the mortal’s status made him a more attractive prize. Her prince Urien would be pleased if she could present him with a Child of the White King, crippled and bound. Urien was a rather minor prince, as his region did not include any great metropolises with their rows of polishes silver towers. A few minor cities, and great expanses of rural towns was his claim. Therefore, his pride compelled him to push his subjects harder to enthrall and enslave, to raid and to wreck what they could.

She reached into her robe and extracted a small, silver bell. It was covered with light carvings, ancient words worked all over the surface of it, spells and incantations in verse. She rang the bell lightly and returned it to her robe. Instantly a great black dog appeared, panting and snorting at her ankles, his teeth bared and his coal-black eyes expressionless.

“Hound. This is your task. Follow the man to whom this garment belongs. Note when he comes near a bastion of the White King. Do what you will to prevent his seeking aid or making contact with the servants of the King. I would have this man cornered and cut off. If he has any Brethren in the King’s service, we must break their fellowship. If you alone are not up to the task, I will call others.”

At the last statement, the Hound growled deeply. He knew his work. He would not fail. He huffed his broad black nose at the shirt the baobh sidhe held out to him. Its smell rankled his nose; a Child of the White King. Never matter. Whatever his allegiance, the hound would pursue him as instructed. It was hardly the first time he’d been called to run a White Child to ground for the baobh sidhe. It would not likely be the last. He turned and bounded out of the apartment, the sent fresh in his nose and his mission sharp in his mind.

*****

“This is sad. Really, truly sad.”

Alycen stared into her closet. Basic did not begin to describe the Spartan condition of her wardrobe. She had never been much of a clotheshorse. And with the store doing so well lately, she had certainly not had the time to go shopping for her nonexistent social life. There was absolutely nothing here for her date Friday. Frumpy sweaters and worn out blue jeans.

She would have to go shopping before work tomorrow. Since the store didn’t open till eleven, that gave her a bit of time to go into town and see if she could find something suitable.

Over her shoulder, Taog sighed. He knew his little Alycen. For all her wandering thoughts about purchasing new clothing for her meeting with Ciara’s Connor, when she found her way to the store tomorrow the same thing would happen that always happened when she went clothes shopping. She would fret at the price tags, worry over the styles, and end up picking out more nondescript, bland clothing exactly like the things she already had.

This would never do. Perhaps if this meeting with Connor were occurring under other circumstances, her usual attire would be fine. In his humble opinion, his Alycen’s beauty needed no adornment. She was a radiant, glowing jewel, filled with light. But Taog knew the ways of Man were not the ways of the sidhe. And this man had attracted a baobh sidhe. A teachdaire had brought word from Ciara just a few moments ago. She had spotted the Dark Sidhe crossing in the earthly plane at Connor’s home. There was not much time. His dear, sweet Alycen did not have to compete with mere mortal women, but the wiles of the baobh.

He would need to make more direct contact with his oileanach soon. But before he did so, he wanted her to have one more plain meet with this Connor, to better gauge her interest in the man. Taking on a dark one in battle was not something to be considered lightly. He wanted to be sure that she decided on her own, with no influence save that of her own heart, whether the man was worth it.

However, that still left the problem of her clothing. Left to her own devices, his charge would make a mess of things. She needed help. A Child of Earth gifted in such things as proper raiment. Suddenly a bright smile lit Taog’s round face. He knew exactly the person who was required. All he had to do was bridge the void and nudge his little “helper” in the right direction. This had been a tiring day, and it was certainly not yet over. But Taog felt more excited and full of energy than he had felt in years. It was all beginning. Regardless of what happened Friday night, there could be no question. He had waited long enough. It was time for Alycen to decide once and for all if she was going to go the way of her kin, or follow her birthright and learn the ways of the fianuis.

*****

Barbie Jean sat at the salon, impatiently flipping through magazines as she waited for her favorite stylist to finish up with the woman ahead of her. At first, she did not take much notice of the portly gentleman who sat beside down her, till he reached out and grabbed one of the hunting and fishing magazine’s that the salon kept around for their male customers. He had truly lovely hands. Barbie always noticed people’s hands. This man’s hands were very graceful in the way they moved. His fingernails were perfectly neatly trimmed. He was wearing a blue flannel suit, and a silver tie, and had neatly trimmed silver hair. A pair of wire rimmed glasses sat perched on his nose in front of merry, bright blue eyes. He smiled at Barbie. Ordinarily, she felt suspicious of any man that smiled at her; however, this man had an air of sweetness and innocence about him that was nearly tangible.

“Good evening,” he said, cheerfully. “Lovely day isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s been very nice.” Barbie replied, amused at the man’s enthusiasm for the weather.

“You know, days like this always make me think of my older sister. She was the one who taught me how to drive. She was quite a bit older than me, and she would take me out on some old back roads and let me practice driving her car when the weather was nice.”

“Mmm,” said Barbie, trying to get back to reading her magazine.

“Yes, come to think of it, I haven’t spoken to my older sister in quite some time. Funny how we lose track and lose touch with our family, isn’t it?
Barbie looked up at the man. It was strange that he should mention his older sister. She had not spoken to her own older sister, Alycen, in months. Like this man’s older sister, Alycen had helped to teach her how to drive when she was younger. She wondered what Aly was up to lately. No one heard much from Alycen since she opened her little bookstore on the square in town. She was so busy, she hardly had time to tie her own shoes, much less visit with the family. It was a shame. And she was sure the girl wasn’t getting out as much as she should. Alycen was a bit of a hermit if left to her own devices. Barbie was the exact opposite: a social butterfly if there ever was one.

“Yes, it is funny. I have an older sister myself.” Barbie looked up from her magazine, and to her surprise, the older man was gone. But she was left with the nagging feeling that she needed to call her sister. She pulled her cellular phone out of her purse and started dialing Alycen’s number. At this hour, she would be home. Perhaps they could get together soon and do a little shopping. Which was an odd thought to pop into her head. Alycen hated shopping.

As Barbie pressed “Send” on her cellular phone, Taog smiled and left the salon. If anyone could convince Alycen to step out on a limb and dress a bit more adventuresome, it would be her baby sister. The woman owned more shoes than some South American countries. The phrase “Shop till you Drop” was invented for the petite redhead. Fortunately, both she and her husband made a living that matched her tastes. She would see to it that her sister was prepared for her date. Taog was very tired. Crossing the void required a great deal of energy. He decided to return home to Alycen and make sure that she took Barbie up on her offer of a day of shopping. It would not kill her to close the shop for a day. But it would require a lot of whispering and quiet assurances on Taog’s part. Ah well, it seemed his work this day was not over yet.

Ciara wished she had been mistaken, when she thought she saw the errant baobh sidhe hanging about the doorframe when she returned. But as she entered the apartment, the lingering presence of the creature was too strong to ignore. Worse yet, she thought she had seen the thing visible on the earthly plane. Which could only mean one thing: it was making contact with Connor directly. She was quickly running out of time, and her Child’s hurried occasional prayers were not going to give her the power she needed to stave off the threatening presence of the baobh sidhe. She prayed quickly to the Master that Taog would be successful in wielding whatever influence he held over his Child to contact Connor, and soon. The baobh sidhe sunk their talons in quickly, and were loathe to let go.

She turned quickly and followed Connor’s path to the truck. Perhaps Taog had a point. Ciara would make every effort to be ever-present with Connor until Taog’s fianuis crossed paths again with her charge. Her mere presence would not intimidate the baobh sidhe for long, but it was the best she could do. The baobh sidhe found the presence of the maor-righ nearly as repellent as they were drawn to the scent of a potential traill. Ciara prayed that revulsion for her kind would purchase her enough time.

*****

“What’s got you in such a good mood, Ally Cat?” Doug asked as he liberally doused his coffee with sugar.

Doug was not her employee. As far as the IRS and any sane person was concerned, her only employee was Meghan. Despite this fact, Doug showed up nearly every day at 4:30 and stayed until she closed at seven. While he was there, he would proceed to put away stray books, stock shelves, and use his quite liberal gift of gab to convince customers who had only intended to browse that they absolutely, positively had to read the newest Tom Clancy, and while they were at it, buy a half a dozen other books, all while consuming quantities of caffeine and sugar that made Alycen wonder if he actually ever slept.

If Doug had ever stopped talking for any great length of time, Alycen had not been present to witness it.

“I just had a really good workout this morning,” she said, trying her best to suppress a grin.

At this Doug raised an eyebrow. “Workout? Since when have you become a gym rat?” Doug knew his friend Alycen very well. While she made a regular practice of walking, anything strenuous enough to be termed a workout appealed to her as much as a case of the measles.

“Well, okay. Maybe it wasn’t so much the workout as the view. Hot guy on the treadmill.” She smirked at Doug’s shocked expression. Surely it hadn’t been that long since she’d been on a date or joked about being attracted to a man. Oh, who was she kidding? There were nuns at St. Joseph’s who’d had dates more recently than she had.

“So we’re in for an early thaw this year after all?” he teased.

“Thaw? What on earth are you talking about, Doug? It’s barely autumn.”

“I was talking about hell, since it looks like it’s frozen over.” At that, Aly tossed the rubber stress ball she kept on the counter at his head.

“Seriously, Aly Cat, what happened? Your eyes lock across a crowded stairmaster? True love spawned by the Thighmaster? I gotta know.”

“You, are a jerk. Just for that, I’m not telling you a thing.” Now it was getting fun. She so rarely had anything surprising or interesting to dangle over Doug’s head. On the other hand, Doug was always regaling her with tales of his weekend exploits. Once he’d driven all night to spend the weekend in Montreal, just to see if he could get by on his high school French. It was nice to be the center of attention for a change.

“Riiiiight. So I might as well just put away that new stack of Madeline L’Engle books. Right after I get done catching the monkeys that are flying out of my butt…”

Alycen couldn’t even pretend to be mad at that point.

“All right, all right. I couldn’t take my usual walk this morning because it was raining cats and dogs…”

“Yeah, isn’t that weird. It’s poured like crazy for an hour, then back to clear as a bell…”

“Do you want to hear this story or not?” Alycen pouted. She was not especially experienced or good at pouting, but today seemed to be a day for trying new things, so she figured she’d give it a shot.

“Sorry. Go ahead.” Doug assumed an appropriately penitent and attentive expression.

“So I remembered that Gary had given me a membership to the YMCA. Shut up.” That last was in response to the fact that Doug had already opened his mouth wide, clearly about to launch into a chorus of The Village People. Doug was exhaustingly predictable when it came to juvenile attempts at humor. Doug snapped his mouth shut and resumed the penitent/attentive pose.

“Anyway, I get to the Y, and there’s this guy on the treadmill. This absolutely gorgeous guy. And he’s completely checking me out. I sat down to stretch in front of him and I thought my hair was going to catch on fire, the way he was looking at me. Then all of a sudden, he just bolts for the locker room. Well, anyway, before he took off, I, uh, just happened to notice, as I was looking at something else in the mirror, he, uh, um, well…”

“Had a stiffy? A boner? A pocket rocket aimed and ready for launch? An…”

Alycen cut him off quickly. Doug could go on like that for an hour. “Yeah. Whatever. Anyway. I caught up to him and tried to make a joke. He got really mad. Backed me into a corner. I tell you, he was a little scary for a sec, there. Then it just passed, and I think he was embarrassed about the whole thing. Anyway, we exchanged numbers, and I headed on here to work.”

“And you’re going to call him when?”

“I don’t know. I’m awfully busy. And I’m sure he only gave me his number to be polite. Besides, aren’t I supposed to wait and let him call? ‘The Rules’ and all that?”

“Screw the rules. Better yet, screw this guy.” Alycen’s jaw dropped.

“Doug! Lower your voice a little—I’ve got customers here.”

“Alycen, all your customers would probably be thrilled to find that you finally got some. Let’s ask them. Hey, Janice? Don’t you agree Aly here should take any and all means necessary to score one for the gipper with this stairmaster stud?”

Janice, a regular who was sitting at the café table, drinking Earl Gray tea from a piece of slightly chipped bone china didn’t even look up from her Danielle Steel novel before chirping dryly in a perfect deadpan “Yep. She most definitely needs to throw that heaving bosom at a man.”

“Doug! I’m going to kill you. If you actually worked for me, I’d fire you!”

At that, Janice put down her book and lifted her teacup. “Seriously Alycen. You haven’t had a date in months, and even back then I would hardly call tolerating that jerk Bill a date. You eat, breathe and sleep this store. You need to get out more. You need to smile more. You need to call this guy.” For some odd reason, Janice felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck. “You need to call him now.”

*****
“Now…” whispered Taog repeatedly into Janice’s ear. Then he moved next to Alycen and whispered gently, “Listen. And don’t fear.”

Taog knew that was the real reason she was hesitating to call this man Connor. She was lonely. She did need to get out more and socialize. But she was afraid. Alycen was a sweet person. She was kind and considerate, and although she was far from perfect, she tended to look out for everyone but herself. Because of that, she also tended to draw out the bloodsucking parasites of life. Her relationships with men had been like her relationships with her family: a lot of giving on her part, and a lot of the men acting as if they were doing her a tremendous favor in allowing her to be at their beck and call.

She had been hurt in the past. Alycen didn’t know how to just invest a little of her heart in someone. When she fell for someone, she gave it all she had. Unfortunately, she’d always gotten back very little. And now, she was beginning to wonder if it was even worth trying.

Taog concentrated on the Master. He concentrated on the Master’s love and devotion. He concentrated on the Master’s perfect plan.
“I know the plans I have for you,” recited Taog, his eyes closed “Plans to give you a hope and a future.”
A soft, warm, golden glow surrounded the maor-righ. It radiated out in waves, blanketing himself, Doug, and Alycen. Doug sighed peacefully for no particular reason, and his caffeine-induced edginess subsided a bit.

Alycen picked up the phone, reached down into her gym bag, and pulled out the card with Connor’s number on it. “Might as well call. What’s the worst that could happen?” she thought.

*****

Connor felt edgy and anxious, and he wasn’t exactly certain why. Aside from forgetting the plans, nothing had gone wrong all day. God knows, some days so many things went wrong, it seemed as if it was a waste of time even getting out of bed. This was not one of those days, for certain. And he’d met two highly attractive women, who’d both seemed very interested in him. Still, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off. Something was not as it should be.

As he leaned over a plan, carefully considering where to put the ridiculous weeping cherry his customer insisted belonged in her lawn, his phone rang.

“Mattingly Landscaping, Connor Mattingly speaking,” he said in probably a more brusque voice than he had intended, thanks to the weeping cherry which was giving him fits.
“Um, hi. This is Alycen. Alycen O’Ryan? From the gym this morning?”

“OH! Alycen! Hi. Sorry, I was in the middle of something when you called.”

“Well, don’t let me interrupt.”

“No! Trust me, it was nothing important. In fact, I desperately needed an interruption right about now.”

“Well, in that case, you’re welcome,” she said, laughing.

“Thanks,” he said, laughing as well.

“Anyway, I was just wondering if you’d like to get together sometime. Maybe grab a bite to eat, check out a movie, you know, the typical dating ritual thing.”

“I love rituals. I shave my cat by the full moon on a regular basis.”

“Really? What’s that good for?”

“Curing hair balls.”

“Very funny. So are you interested, or not?”
“Oh absolutely. I’m completely interested. When and where?”

“Um, Friday night work for you?”

Connor did not bother to look at his calendar. If there was anything on it for Friday, it could and would be moved. “Friday is perfect.”

“How do you feel about Mexican food?”

“Cheese, beans, beef. What’s not to like, there?”

“El Nopalitos? At, maybe seven?”

“Sure. Sounds great. Would you like me to pick you up?” For some odd reason, saying that made Connor picture himself literally picking her up, preferably to carry her someplace private.

“That would be great. You could pick me up at The Secret Kingdom. My bookstore. It’s listed on the business card I gave you.”

“Perfect. See you then.”

“See you then.”

When Alycen had been plotting and planning her bookstore, she had wanted a place that would be a refuge and a retreat for readers. The building that now housed The Secret Kingdom was previously a small department store. The three story building stood on the historic town square, facing the old capitol building. At the time, the building was owned by the attorney’s office that was located on the top floor of the building. The bottom two floors were occupied by a struggling antique shop. The antique shop, whose lease was up, was moving to a barn further out of town. They’d left the shop a mess and the attorneys were tired of dealing with it.

When Alycen had offered to purchase the building, and lease the third floor back to the attorney, he was uncharacteristically grateful. As it happened, he was nearing retirement in the next ten years, and was attempting to liquidate some of his assets in his estate planning. Selling the old, shabby building and leasing it on the cheap for his remaining years fit perfectly with his plans.

As for Alycen, she could not have asked for a more perfect place to start up her business. But, oh my God, what a lot of work it had been getting the place ready. Scrubbing floors, stripping off decades and years worth of peeling paint had taken what seemed like forever. But the finished result was well worth it.

She had combed every thrift store in a hundred mile radius for worn, comfortable armchairs and heavy, sturdy coffee tables and end tables; quirky, beautiful lamps and interesting picture frames that she filled with poster prints of everything from Degas to Bugs Bunny. She visited auction after auction and yard sale after yard sale to pick up soft, worn, old quilts, nubby throw rugs with faded intricate Persian patterns, and interesting little bits of décor and miscellany.

Her Papaw George had pitched in, building heavy, custom bookshelves to fit into the various nooks and crannies of the store. She’d bought what seemed like acres of heavy, rich red velvet and sewn them into curtains for the storefront windows on both floors. Even Mom had been infected with her enthusiasm, helping her reupholster her thrift store armchairs with plush, soft fabrics in mottled patterns (the better to hide coffee and tea spills.)

The finished result was her Secret Kingdom. The storefront had a couple of small café tables and chairs. In a little corner next to the front checkout counter was a small coffee and tea station. She had thought about selling expensive coffees and teas, but then reconsidered. She didn’t want to be in the coffee and tea business. She wanted to be in the book business. But readers liked coffee and tea.

So instead, she’d taken a big old buffet server, and outfitted it with an old Bunn drip coffee maker and a big percolating tank with a tap for hot water for tea. There was a small selection of interesting teas (she tried different ones as she ran out, and made sure to listen to her customers’ suggestions) and an industrial sized can of cheap but tasty coffee. Canisters contained sugar and cream, a little basket held a bunch of sweetener packets, and beneath it all, inside the buffet, was a random collection of mugs and cups. Every shape, size and color was represented among her collection, and no two were alike. Every night, she took the used cups home to be tossed into the dishwasher, and every morning she hauled in the cups from the night before in a Rubbermaid tub. Of course, customers were encouraged to bring their own cups, as well. More than once, she’d discovered she’d taken home and washed a customer’s cup, when he or she came back to claim it later.

The walls were lined with dark stained bookshelves from floor to ceiling. All the lovely details that had been built into the old department store were visible now without a thousand layers of paint. The pressed-tin ceiling design reflected the light from the windows and all the lamps back down and made interesting patterns of shadow and light throughout the store. Armchairs, rockers, and tables were scattered in various groupings through both floors. Quilts were tossed across some chairs and stacked in old hope chests/coffee tables. Fluffy pillows were tossed everywhere. Frequently, Alycen had to nudge patrons who had dozed off over their purchases, snuggled into an armchair, their feet propped comfortably on a table.

If Tolkein had walked into her store, he would have laughed and called it a haven for hobbits. It was as full of creature comforts as it was books. Not that there was any dearth of either.

The first floor held all her new books in every category, fiction and non-fiction. They were neatly stacked on the shelves in perfect order (most of the time). The second floor held the used books and the children’s section.

A wooden railing surrounded the children’s section, which was painted a lighter color than the rest of the store. The books were all on low shelves, and there was a small toy kitchen, a little playhouse castle, and a couple of baskets of toys. From 3:30 to 5:30 every week day, Meghan Evans, her one employee, would come straight from school to work the children’s department. Meghan had taken the local Red Cross babysitting class, and her sole job was to provide childcare for those two hours, so that moms could look and read in peace. When asked what she wanted her to do, Alycen told her “Just keep them happy and occupied, and if possible, keep them from destroying the books.”

More than one young mom had told Alycen her bookstore had saved their sanity.

Alycen had created more than a bookstore in The Secret Kingdom. She’d created a haven. And her reward was a thriving business. The cheerful little bell on the door danced and rang all day long, as tourists and regulars streamed into her warm, inviting little burrow. Every evening she went home exhausted and happy, if a little lonely. As much as she enjoyed talking with her customers about books and movies and music, when the talk came to their personal lives, Alycen did not have much to say. She despised dating. She was too busy with the shop to have many close friends. Her cat, Burgundy, while an excellent napping companion, was not much for conversation. Still, all in all, she had a wonderful life. She was satisfied, for the most part.

The morning sun was streaming into the windows as she bounced around the store, her morning routine transformed by her unexpected encounter at the Y. That Connor was positively delicious. There was just something about him that drew her in, a pull that was more than just being attracted to a gorgeous man. There was a sharp intelligence in his eyes. Or perhaps she had simply gone out on one too many set up dates with men who were as interesting (and possibly as smart) as a Holstein cow.

She lit the scented candles she had scattered through the store, put away the cups in the buffet, and opened up the register. She popped a cd of lively celtic music into the cd player, and bounced upstairs to turn on the lights and straighten the kids area a bit. Finally, she flipped the sign on the front door from “Closed” to “Open” and put on the water and the coffee.

Yes, she thought, as she looked out onto the town square’s gazebo, bathed in golden morning light. Despite the buckets of rain earlier, it was going to be a truly beautiful day.

*****

Connor jumped into his pickup truck and headed to the office to pick up some plans for a client. He was still a little confused about what had happened with him and this woman, Alycen. It was completely unlike him to get hostile like that. He was known for being able to keep his temper under control, even when provoked much worse than the teasing that she had thrown at him.

As for his other dramatic response to her, that puzzled him as well. It wasn’t as if he’d been sitting home pining away for dates lately. Between the women who hit on him as he was out and about and the ones his buddies set him up with, he was a busy guy socially. Of course, most of the women were as bland as toast, and about as bright, but that was no reason he couldn’t have a good time with them.

Something about this Alycen told him that she was not his typical date. Come to think of it, he hadn’t actually thought about asking a woman out in months. Usually, he was busy just between work, hanging out with the guys, and dating the women who pursued him. Owning his own business had certainly not hurt his appeal, and although he was far too smart to get heavily involved with women who were looking for a “provider,” aka were mostly interested in his money, he could certainly enjoy their attempts to convince him that they were “the one to settle down with.”

It wasn’t that he was averse to settling down. If the truth were known, he’d like to get off the dating circuit. The idea of having one person to rely on, to be with, was something he thought of often. Much as he loved his active social life, he wanted a woman to come home to every night. He wanted someone who would be excited to hear about all his accomplishments. He wanted someone to share his plans with who would be as enthusiastic about them as he was. But he’d not seen anyone he’d consider a decent candidate for that position in all his dating adventures.

It wasn’t that he was picky or judgmental. He tended to take people as they were. It was simply that he was an old fashioned guy at heart. This whole modern concept of a “starter marriage” baffled him. When he finally got married, it would be for good. And he wasn’t going to make that commitment unless he was sure it was with the right person.

Maybe that was why he’d gotten so angry at the woman at the gym. Looking at her, for the first time he could picture coming home to someone every night. It was scary to feel that so strongly just looking at a person. It was insane. She might be a total nutcase for all he knew. She could be a lesbian. She could be a Democrat or a Buddhist.

“Or she could be the love of your life,” he found himself thinking, and it was a thought that was equal parts exciting and terrifying.

He opened the door to his office, and began looking for the plans. Damn. They weren’t anywhere to be seen. That was when he remembered he’d taken them home last night to work on them. He would have to go to his new apartment and pick them up.

He had mixed feelings about the new place. It was bigger and much nicer than his old apartment, and the location was closer to work. The floor plan was perfect. His landlady was a complete sweetheart, a sixty-something granny who tended to bring cookies by on Sunday and invite him to church. But every so often, he got a prickling at the back of his neck when he was there alone. It was probably just the newness of the place, and the unfamiliarity which made him feel like he was being watched.

But it made him uncomfortable, nonetheless.

He opened the door and stepped inside, looking around for the plans. They were lying on the desk in the living room, just where he’d left them. Why he’d forgotten to take them with him this morning, he couldn’t say. Usually he was almost obsessively orderly. He had a routine and stuck with it, and therefore almost never lost or misplaced anything. This morning had been strange for a lot of reasons. He hoped the day would straighten itself out. As nice as it had been to meet Alycen, he wasn’t fond of surprises.

He turned to walk out the door and nearly ran into the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

She was standing in his doorway, one hand on her hip, looking at him with dark eyes that were nearly black. She was petite but curvy, built like the Mexican actress Salma Hayek. Her skin was a creamy ivory white, and full, dark red lips were parted in a seductive smile.

“Sorry to bother you,” a honeyed voice said. “I was looking for the previous tenant.”

Connor had to think to make himself shut his mouth. His next thought was “How do I get this woman to not leave?” and inexplicably “How the hell do I get away from this woman?”

“If you give me your name and number, I can ask my landlady if he left a forwarding address,” he finally stammered out.

“She.”

“She?” he asked, confused.

“The former tenant. You said ‘he.’ The former tenant was a woman. A friend of mine.”

“Would you like me to get her address then?” he asked.

“No, that’s alright.” Suddenly her entire demeanor changed. Her eyes flicked around, as if she saw or heard someone coming up behind her. She seemed almost a little angry—and a little frightening for such a small woman. But only for an instant. “But if you don’t mind, I might stop back by to see you.”

“That’d be great,” he said, then turned as something slammed to the floor in the kitchen. When he turned back around, she was gone. Just gone.

“This has been, without a question, the weirdest day ever,” he said to himself. Then he picked up the plans and headed down to the truck.

*****

Taog watched his charge bound out of the YMCA and head to her small bookstore just off the town square. He could see the vibrant red energy swirling around her, and smiled. Alycen was too serious by far, and rarely gave herself over to such passionate outbursts. She was such a solemn person, even as a child. Now she seemed radiant, like the man she had been speaking with. Taog’s eyes danced with a merry gleam. Perhaps this was the one. Perhaps this was the man to complement his charge. Her loneliness and isolation had grieved him and the Master.

He wondered if it was a sign of other changes. She was a woman grown now. And with every day that passed, she became more and more resigned to reject who she was. Her presence had been a vivid blue-white glow when she was a child. Back then, she would speak to him, and listen to him. They would play endless games together in the woods. For him, the games had a purpose: keeping her mind wide open and awake. Now he could see she was closing down. She was shutting out the world that she had once peered into with such intense youthful curiosity.

Perhaps this man would awaken her. Taog trotted behind her on the sidewalk leading up to the bookstore. Her steps were faster, more energetic than usual.

“Mommy, who is that man?” asked a little boy being dragged to get a pair of ridiculously uncomfortable dress shoes for his aunt’s wedding.

“What man? Look Jeremy, we have got to hurry. Mommy has a million errands to run today. Come ON!”

If the woman had seen what her son had seen, she would have probably been amused, at the very least. A stout, merry-faced older man with a ring of silver hair, and bright blue eyes, dressed in robes of blue and gray, was trotting doggedly after a slender blond woman. When the woman turned and unlocked the door of “The Secret Kingdom Bookstore” and slipped inside, the man passed straight through the door after her as if it weren’t there.


Taog was a bit startled to see another maor-righ awaiting them in the book shop. She was amber haired, with shining grey eyes and heavy green and red robes.

“Greetings of the day, Taog,” she said, for the maor-righ know each other by name upon sight.

“Merry meet, Ciara. What brings you here this day?” he asked, his brow furrowed. Ciara was a guardian, a treoraich, like himself, not a teachdaire messenger. If she had left her own charge to meet with him, there must be something of great importance in the wind.

“Your oileanach, Taog,” she replied.

“You are mistaken, to my grief, Ciara. Alycen of the O’Ryan has not undertaken to study the ways of the fianuis. I am still merely her guardian, not her teacher as of yet.”

“That must needs change, Taog. Her crossing of my charge this morning was no mean passing. Surely you must have seen that?”

“Aye, I sensed the great pull between them, and that it was not merely of the ways of earth,” Taog answered, a bit miffed that she was speaking to him in such a condescending tone. “Have you news beyond this, or do you abandon your charge at every passing of the ways?”

At this, Ciara pulled herself a bit taller and straighter, her rosy face flushed a bit. “My charge is a true Child of Earth. He is without the second sight, for the most part, and thus has always been of little interest to the sidhe.” Ciara sighed. “But he has just moved to a new home, and this home is situated upon a strong ley line. A ley line frequented by the baobh sidhe.”

Taog’s eyes widened at this, and he immediately felt sorry for his earlier harshness. This was a serious matter. What Ciara was saying, in effect, was that her charge had moved into a pathway used by the Fallen Ones, the ones who followed the Proud One down to Earth after the War. And without much use of his second sight, the poor man was like a toddler who had inadvertently run out into the middle of the interstate. Truly, their meeting could not have been a mere passing of ways. Much as Alycen had consciously fought her gifts, she instinctively avoided the Ways of the baobh sidhe. Ciara’s charge needed aid, and Alycen could provide it. If only she were trained to do so.

“And so, her Way is begun,” he said gravely.

“It would seem so,” replied Ciara. “And the sooner you begin her training, the better. I fear my charge has already attracted the attention of at least one baobh sidhe. I saw her slow her path as she passed him by, and she has been lingering and nosing around rather boldly, even in my presence. There is not much I can do. He prays infrequently, and hasn’t the senses required to know he needs my protection in order to pray for it.”

Taog nodded in sympathy. For all their power, there were a great many limits to what a maor-righ could do to protect their Children. It would help Ciara tremendously if her charge would pray to the Master for protection and strength. The Master would flood her with power and authority to deal with the situation. As it stood, her hands were effectively tied. Especially since the baobh sidhe had not openly threatened the man. And like as not, would not threaten him, as that was not their way.

“No. They lie, deceive, seduce. That is the way of the baobh sidhe. And because they obtain an invitation from the poor Child of Earth, they bind our swords before we can even unsheathe them.” Ciara had read his thoughts on his face, which was not unusual. Taog wore both his heart and his mind on his sleeve much of the time.

“I will do what I can to give aid, Ciara. I will at the very least ensure that she contacts him again. From there, we will simply have to follow the Master’s leading. It is all we can do. Now you must return to Connor, your charge. It will not do to let him wander home alone.”

At this, Ciara smiled. Poor Taog was far more Nanny than Teacher and Taskmaster. She had long since stopped thinking of Connor as a literal child who could not be left for a moment. It was not as if he were among the Lost. The Master was always with him. And Alycen was a Child of the King as well. Taog need not treat her as if she needed his constant care and attention. The Master could be trusted. The Master knew all. Still, he had a point. Her beloved Connor had wandered into dangerous territory. Ciara knew far too well what happened to those enthralled by the baobh sidhe, the traille. Theirs was a sad, painful existence, and while Connor’s eternal place was secure, his temporal existence could be rendered miserable. She did not wish that for him.

“I will return to Connor, good Taog. Thank you for your kind assurance. Blessed be the Master, and blessings be to you and yours. Good day.”

“Blessed be the Master, and Blessings to you and yours, Ciara.”

*****

Alycen glided through the book shop. This was her world, this little place. Her own Secret Kingdom of safety and peace. It was all she’d ever wanted in life. As a child, her escape from the dreary existence her parents insisted was all there was to life was books. She would crouch beneath the blankets with a flashlight, losing herself in the world of Narnia, of Oz, of Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women and Laura Ingalls Wilder’s pioneer stories.

When she had finally graduated high school, she had shocked her parents thoroughly by receiving a full scholarship to the local university. They had believed that only the wealthy received scholarships. The fact that their eldest daughter had always received straight As and had graduated in the top three percent of her class was meaningless to them. Scholarships and a college education were for the rich; working class families did not receive such things. That was the way their world worked, and it had never occurred to them to think any differently. They were very nearly appalled, instead of happy, when Alycen had been awarded the prestigious scholarship.

So she had worked furiously on her studies, and spent every waking hour either at school or working one job or another, socking away every penny. And fortunately, her scholarship far more than covered the tuition at her local community college. So after five years, she had a Bachelor of Arts degree in English and Creative Writing, and enough money to start her own business.

And once again, her family insisted that she was crazy. She should take a nice safe job as a secretary somewhere with benefits. Preferably somewhere she could find a nice man to marry and settle down with. What use was an English degree, anyway, they asked. And opening her own bookstore? Insanity, that’s all it was. Pure insanity.

To her family, the fact that she had come up with an impressively complete business plan, and then used that and her considerable college savings to apply for, and receive, several grants designated for women-owned businesses, was an affront to their entire concept of how the universe was supposed to work. They didn’t take kindly to it, or to Alycen, who kept proving all their wisdom wrong.

They were sure, however, that they’d have the last laugh when her little fledgling business tanked. She would come running home to them, penitent at last for not listening to their sage advice. Oh, how they talked among themselves about how she would return in tears, and they would finally, perhaps, be able to talk some sense into that girl.

When the bookstore took off and became a huge success, it was the final insult. The snubs started slowly, subtly. When the family would have a get-together, they would “forget” to call her. Everyone assumed someone else called. The few family events she managed to get wind of and show up for, she found herself usually sitting in a corner, ignored by all except her irascible grandmother, Margaret.

Margaret was her saving grace in the family. She was the only one who believed in her. Of course, most of the family believed that Margaret was nutty as a bourbon-soaked fruitcake. That never mattered to Alycen. Granny Maggie was her heart—or possibly her spine. Whenever she considered giving up, knowing that she’d have to explain it to her rather intimidating grandmother would steel her enough to continue.

And now, things had settled into a nice, comfortable routine at last. Her family had faded into the background, which was probably for the best. Best of all, she had her beautiful, beautiful store.
The Secret Kingdom was what all those corporate giants tried to be, and didn’t quite make it.


When Alycen had been plotting and planning her bookstore, she had wanted a place that would be a refuge and a retreat for readers. The building that now housed The Secret Kingdom was previously a small department store. The three story building stood on the historic town square, facing the old capitol building. At the time, the building was owned by the attorney’s office that was located on the top floor of the building. The bottom two floors were occupied by a struggling antique shop. The antique shop, whose lease was up, was moving to a barn further out of town. They’d left the shop a mess and the attorneys were tired of dealing with it.

When Alycen had offered to purchase the building, and lease the third floor back to the attorney, he was uncharacteristically grateful. As it happened, he was nearing retirement in the next ten years, and was attempting to liquidate some of his assets in his estate planning. Selling the old, shabby building and leasing it on the cheap for his remaining years fit perfectly with his plans.

Chapter One

Dawn, Darkness and Gloaming

A novel by Katharine Brooks

Alycen looked out the window at the rain streaming down. What should have been a gorgeous dawn sky was nothing but inky blackness, punctuated by the staccato beat of rain drops falling on the metal roof of her house.

Even now, she had a hard time explaining to other people why she had bought the dilapidated farm cottage. The foundation was shot rock piled up in uneven stacks with huge wooden beams criss-crossed across it. The roof was a mélange of tin and shingle. The floor rolled like a ship at sea. And very little in it worked as it was originally intended. But this was her home, a misfit as she had always been a misfit, and as misfits alike, they were a perfect match for each other.

She never minded rain much, but she’d been planning on going for a walk in the park this morning before work, and though she was known to walk in the rain, it was coming down at such force and volume, that walking in it would be an exercise in frustration. And the last thing she needed right now was more frustration.

Bill was calling again. She had sincerely hoped he’d taken the hint that she wasn’t interested in a relationship, but apparently he was deliberately missing the broad, softball hints she’d tossed his way in an attempt to salvage his obviously fragile ego. She supposed it was time for a fastball to the groin. Some guys, that is what it took. But she was not a cruel person by nature, and she was loathe to hurt even an asshole like Bill.

Why her sister had thought setting them up would be a good idea, Alycen was not really certain. Well, actually, that was not entirely true. The family had probably figured, inaccurately once again, that what she really needed was a nice solid man to settle her down. The thought of a “nice, solid man” made Alycen want to dry heave into her cereal bowl. Nearly as much as the thought of “settling down.” Or settling, period. Why couldn’t her family accept that she wasn’t a settled kind of person? Why the constant, soul barrage of attempts to change her? It was more or less her life time quandary, and she was no closer to solving it now than she had been at the age of seven or eight.
That was when she noticed that she was distinctly different from her salt of the earth family. That the rest of the tribe did not see things and people who were not there. That they considered her insistence that she did see those things and people an embarrassing nuisance. That she was expected to “grow up” and give up her “imaginary friends.” Which she did. She ignored the bright, colorful beings that surrounded her childhood self until they stopped appearing, and her world started to resemble the stable, grey world that every one else inhabited. Most of the time, anyway.

Well, if she was not going to go for her morning walk, she had better determine what she was going to do as her daily exercise. She had found a long time ago that she needed a certain amount of physical activity to keep her mental health in balance. It was so natural for her to spend all her time in the world of her thoughts, feelings, and imagination, that she needed to consciously make an effort to connect with the world outside her.

So she supposed she would go to the YMCA and take advantage of the free membership she received as a gift from her brother Gary. She was not particularly fond of the sterile, glaringly white environment, but it was better than slogging through the rain in the park.

She slipped into her workout clothes: slim leggings and a loose tunic she used mostly for yoga. She tossed her work clothes in a bag, grabbed a cup of coffee, and headed out the door.

*****

Connor was not exactly sure why he had promised Steve that he would start working out with him at the ungodly hour of 5:00 am. Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. Steve was his friend. And Steve had asked him. If he was able, he generally tried to do most anything his friends asked of him.

But in all honestly, he didn’t really need the additional exercise. As a landscaping contractor, he spent a big part of his day tossing bags of rock and mulch around, digging holes to plant seedlings, and generally busting his ass. Feeling like an uncoordinated dork on a piece of thousand dollar exercise machinery at the local Y was not exactly his idea of a great way to spend his time. But he and Steve were both so busy with work, they rarely got the chance to just hang out anymore. So when Steve suggested they work out together a few times a week, he agreed.

Besides, the gym was an excellent place to scope out women. Unfortunately, so far most of the women who’d shown up during their early morning workouts were not exactly prime dating material. Lumpy, grumpy moms for whom the butt crack of dawn was their only chance to get out of the house and exercise.

And it was this particular train of thought he was riding, not to mention the treadmill, when a total knockout walked into the exercise area. Thick, thick, ashy blond hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and a thick fringe of bangs hovered over vivid, almond shaped green eyes. She had a dancer’s body, the curves were subtle but attractive. And she was sitting down directly in front of him to stretch out before working out. Connor found himself standing a little more erect in the treadmill, pulling his gut in. Come to think of it, his spine was not the only thing getting more erect. He was embarrassed to find that he was getting stiff just watching this woman stretch. Holy crap, he thought, this hasn’t happened since high school Biology class. And unfortunately, there was no bulky textbook on the treadmill to hide behind.

*****
Alycen had walked into the Y planning on going upstairs to the walking path, but for some reason found herself pulled towards the equipment room. That was odd, because she rarely ever even bothered to look in on the sweaty folks in there. This morning, however, her attention was immediately caught by a guy who was awkwardly trotting on one of the farther treadmills.

He had the build of a man whose muscles came from hard manual labor, not from the precise toning and sculpting of machines. That appealed to Alycen all by itself. But when she looked up at the man’s face, she was caught off guard. He had beautiful amber skin, probably as much the product of genetics as days spent in the sun. His hair was a thick black crop on his head, mussed and sweaty. He had a dark and neatly trimmed goatee, thick black eyebrows, and the high clear cheekbones of someone with at least a bit of Native American heritage. His eyes were a dark, glossy chestnut brown and were fringed with lashes that were thick and black enough to make her a little bit envious. Some days, it sucked to be a natural blonde.

She decided to work out in the equipment room, for a change of pace. She found a spot to stretch out directly in front of the man on the treadmill, and bent over, wrapping her arms around one outstretched leg. As she stretched, she wondered if the man had noticed her, until she caught site of him in the corner of her eye in the mirror. Apparently, the guy had not only noticed her, but certain parts of his body were overwhelmingly in favor of getting to know her better. She smiled a little crooked smile, and continued stretching.

Thank God for rainy days, she thought to herself. And thank you Gary, for your thoughtful gift of a YMCA membership.

*****

Much as Connor wanted to meet the attractive blonde in front of him, he did not want to confront her in the state he was in. He was hoping to slip out unnoticed to the showers and hang around in the lobby after Steve left, waiting for an opportunity to talk to her.

He wasn’t counting on her following him out of the equipment room when he got off the treadmill and headed towards the showers. At first he was damning his luck that she happened to be there for nothing more than a quick stretch, and that she was leaving the same time that he was. Then suddenly she called out to him from behind.

“Hey, isn’t it a little rude among your people to salute a person like that and then run off without a greeting?”

Connor wasn’t exactly some naïve kid unaccustomed to sexual joking around. He was a landscaping man, for heaven’s sake. The language his guys used in his presence on a daily basis would make a sailor blush. But for some odd reason, this woman’s salty teasing voice made him turn beet red. He wasn’t exactly certain whether he felt more embarrassed or more angry. He spun around to face her and stalked right up to her, backing her against the wall.

“And isn’t it a little rude among your people to shake your ass in front of a guy for twenty minutes and then announce to the public he’s got a hard on?”

Alycen was taken aback. She hadn’t thought she’d said anything that risqué, or that she’d said it within earshot of anyone else in the gym. As attractive as the man was, he was also a bit scary. But, embarrassingly, she found the threat of him even more attractive than his retreating backside had been. This was totally out of character for her. She’d never been into the whole “bad boy” thing. Her feeling had always been that women who went looking for that kind of trouble were fools. But she was unexplainably drawn to this scary, gorgeous guy.

Connor didn’t know what the hell had come over him. He was the ultimate nice guy. Women told him he was too sweet, too good natured. He knew he was a decent looking guy, but he found himself hearing the old “let’s just be friends” more often than he cared to admit. What on earth was he doing growling at this woman, and backing her into a corner as if he’d like to yank down those leggings and hump her against the wall? Actually, it was best he kept his mind far, far away from that particular thought, because some dark, grumbly voice in his head said “yeah, that’s the idea.”

He took a step back, disconcerted at his totally out of character response. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what the hell that was all about. It just seemed like, like…” C’mon babe, help me out here, he thought.

“Like I was teasing you and then trying to publicly humiliate you? Sorry, not my intent at all. I just noticed you seemed…um… interested. And I didn’t want to let you get away without telling you the interest was returned.”

They both laughed. Really, it was a ridiculous situation, and both of them were acting like a couple of junior high school kids. Hell, they both felt like a couple of junior high school kids. Which wasn’t an entirely bad thing.

“Look, I’ve got to get to work, but I’d like to get together sometime for coffee or something. See if maybe there’s a little bit more to this than exercise-induced testosterone lust. Are you interested or not?” She cocked her head to one side, and raised a fine gray-blond eyebrow.

“Yeah, definitely. Coffee sounds great.” Actually, he hated coffee, but he’d gladly drink a gallon of the nasty stuff if it meant getting to spend more time with this woman.

“Great. My name’s Alycen O’Ryan.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a business card.

“I don’t have any of my cards with me,” he said, and she smiled, obviously thinking that it was clear they weren’t in his pants. “Can I borrow one of yours and a pen?” She handed both over, and he scribbled his name and number on the back and returned it to her with the pen.

“Connor Bates? Nice to meet you. Both of you,” she whispered, with a wink. Then she spun on her heels and bolted for the door before he could growl at her again. And as deep and husky as her voice had been, he could have sworn he heard her giggle like a twelve year old girl, as she practically bounced out the front door.

Pre-Prose Notes

Characters:

Alycen : a fianuis, or witch
Connor : Alycen’s love. Tormented by the sidhe. Nearly commits suicide.
Margaret: Alycen’s grandmother. Also a fianuis
Danna: Alycen’s mother, a fianuis
Fred: Connor’s best friend
Ceana: baobh sidhe (fallen angel), wants Connor
Taog: maor-righ sidhe (loyal angel), Alycen’s treoraich (teacher/guide).

Character Notes:
Alycen: Pretty woman, late 20s/early 30s, grey-green eyes, long, extremely thick ash blond hair which is poker-stright and a general nuisance, usually tied back or braided.

Connor: Dark, short, stocky guy. Fine facial features and beautiful amber skin. Wears a neatly trimmed goatee and closely cropped straight black hair. “Down to earth” in many ways: short, amiable, grounded, a bit unimaginative, conservative. “Solid.”

Margaret: 70s, bent, wrinkled, red-haired still, sharp blue eyes, proud, a little vain. Funny and irascible.

Danna: Sweet natured, plump, in her early 50s. A bit naïve.

Fred: Thin, gangly, with straw-like ashy hair and freckles. Good natured, tends to slouch.

Ceana: Dark brown, curly hair, voluptuous, earthy. Red-brown eyes that turn black when angry.

Taog: Silver-haired, blue-eyed. Looks like Friar Tuck, with a merry, if sometimes exasperated expression.


Plot Notes:
Alycen O’Ryan is a fianuis, or witch. She’s struggled her entire life to appear “normal” and ignore and avoid her ability to see and sense the spiritual world. Her love, Connor, attracts the attention of Ceana, a baobh sidhe, who attempts to make him her traill. Alycen must overcome her issues about her abilities, and quickly learn from Taog how to best use them, in order to save Connor from Ceana’s plan. (Possibly same book, possibly part 2). Becoming immersed in Tir Nan Og and the sidhe realms so quickly has a tremendous adverse affect on Alycen, who begins to lose her sanity. Connor must then overcome his ideas about “witchcraft” and the supernatural to rescue Alycen by becoming her anchor to the real world.

Premise Notes:
Spiritual warfare as faery lore.

The beings known as the sidhe in Ireland and Scotland are in fact angels. One group is the fallen angels (the baobh), the other are angels who remain loyal to Creator God (the maor-righ). The O’Ryan family are Witnesses, aka “Witches,” (fianuis) those with the gift of discernment, passed down mother to daughter, to see the hidden world of the sidhe (Tir Nan Og). Unfortunately, like most Witness/Witch clans, they have long since broken their oral tradition, and no longer remember the purpose of their gift, and usually view it as a curse.

Each fianuis has her own personal maor-righ who watches over her and guides her, known as a treoraich. The baobh sidhe enjoy slaving humans, particularly males, by appearing as unearthly beautiful women and offering sex. Once a human falls for the bait, the baobh sidhe hold their souls in thrall, and they become traill—a slave to the baobh sidhe.

Tir Nan Og is the realm that exists between earth and eternity, the spiritual dimension of the present. Ley Lines or fairy pathways, are energy lines crisscrossing the earth, where the distinction between the physical realm and the spiritual one is weak. Connor lives on a Ley Line.

Gaelic sources:
fianuis
witness, a witness, Irish fiadhnuise, fiadhan, a witness, Old Irish fiadnisse, testimony, fiadu, acc. fiadain, testem, *veidôn, Indo-European root veid, vid, know, see, as in fios, q.v.; Anglo-Saxon witta, a witness, English witness, root, wit, know.

baobh
a wicked woman, witch, Irish badhbh, hoodie crow, a fairy, a scold, Early Irish badb, crow, demon, Badba, the Irish war-goddess, Welsh bod, kite, Gaulish Bodv-, Bodvo-gnatus, Welsh Bodnod; Norse böð, g. boðvar, war, Anglo-Saxon beadu, g. beadwe, *badwa- (Rhys.). In Stokes' Dict. the Sanskrit bádhate, oppress, Lithuanian bádas, famine, are alone given. Also baogh.

maor-rìgh
nm. officer of court, messenger-at-arms; inflected on the first element

teachdaire
nm. pl.+an, messenger, courier, ambassador

treòraich
va. and vn. guide, lead, direct, strengthen

tràill
a slave, Irish traill (O'Br.), Middle Irish tráill (not well known to glossographers); from Norse þraell, English thrall.