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Chosen Mate

    Clarissa dropped the parchment and began to cry in earnest. She wouldn't be in this mess, had Lewis lived. He had promised her the year before if such a law should be enacted, he would petition for her.

    Her heart broke at Xavier's gesture. He was in love with a woman who had refused his proposal the year before. Clarissa knew he loved her still. But, he had stepped up and offered to make good on Lewis' promise. She was grateful, but couldn't see herself married to a man who worked with dragons when they could turn so easily. As good as he was with them, she knew eventually the beasts would make her a widow prematurely.

    Randolf's offer was also one made out of sympathy. He had first believed, because of his werewolf status, he would be ineligible. However, the Ministry had made it clear his condition was not seen as too terribly important. He had been informed as long as he and his chosen wife did not consummate their union during the active phases of the moon, any child they had would be unharmed by his curse.

    Clarissa smiled sadly as she considered Randolf. He was her friend. She did love him, but she did not think she could ever bring herself to be intimate with him. It would have been almost like shagging Lewis' dad. Besides, she didn't want to ruin his chances to find true love and happiness.

    Scanning the remaining names, she sighed. Daniel had petitioned for her only at the request of Father. He had no desire to marry her, much less have children with her. She was sure of that much.       Back to Chosen Mate

The Eternal

    Standing in front of the mirror, Jessica wet her hands in the sink, and then used one to dampen her forehead and the back of her neck. When she stood again to her full height, she stared into the mirror's depths, close to tears. It's just in my head, it is just my imagination, she told herself. This was not one of her premonitions! She was just imagining things from that crazy dream. He just resembled the man in her dreams. That wasn't Shameer. It couldn't have been. There was no way humanly possible. Shameer was a vampire, and vampires didn't exist.

    " There is no reason for you to act so stupid,"  she scolded herself aloud. " He's just another pretty face."  he nodded at her reflection in the mirror, trying to believe what she said. " Yeah, that's it. Just another completely, surreally gorgeous man, probably out looking to get laid."

    " Excuse me?"  the deep, slightly accented voice said to her, touching her soul like a gentle breeze, but shocking her nonetheless. She turned so fast she lost her balance and would have slipped on the hard floor, had his hands not caught and steadied her.

    He held her, remaining close to her even after she had regained her footing. Once again, they looked into each other's eyes, feelings rushed unbidden between them. " My dear, are you all right?"  he asked softly, holding her to him, almost as though afraid to let her go.

    She flicked her tongue across her dry lips as she nodded, afraid to attempt speech. Unexpected heat coiled through her as she stood locked in his arms. Images of her dream floated once more through her mind. They moved through her like a whirlwind, turning into a shudder. Her breath escaped her as she felt his hand running through her hair.

    Longing filled her at the feel of his other hand touching her cheek. She tilted her head back, closing her eyes.

    His eyes moved to the exposed column of her neck. The vein pulsed, open to him. He could take her; it would be easy; he could feel the beating of her heart like a drum with his own. It would be so easy.

    He gently leaned toward her and placed a soft kiss at the base of her throat, before turning and mumbling a hasty, " I'm sorry,"  as he moved away from her and back through the doorway of the lavatory, leaving her once again, alone.

    Opening her eyes, she stared at the empty doorway, confused, surprised―and disappointed; so terribly disappointed. Her hand went to the spot on her throat where he had kissed her. She felt the pulse beneath her fingers. Shaking her head, she looked back at her reflection, eyes going to her neck, checking. " Oh, now I know I am crazy,"  she said to the mirror, cursing at herself for being so stupid.        Back to The Eternal

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Eternal Moon

    "  No. I don't think they're targeting me,"  she lied. "  I just think that these guys are taking girls that are psychically talented."  She shrugged before continuing, "  I can easily hide my gift. It isn't very noticeable. I just wouldn't want to lead anyone to you if there were any of them watching me. You know?"  Penny scoffed on the other end. "  I don't do my talent openly!"

    Lilith chuckled softly at that, "  Yeah, but you don't not do it in the privacy of your own home, either."  she sighed. "  I'm just not willing to take the risk, okay?"

    Penny groaned. "  Okay, all right. But listen, you have to promise me that you will get your ass out here if matters get worse. Okay? There is safety in numbers. Got it?"

    Just as Lilith opened her mouth to answer, she saw a wolf run into the safety of her yard. That wasn't not possible! Surely one of those damn things hadn't found a way through the magical barrier she'd worked so hard to put into place.

    Flipping the light switch in the kitchen off, she stood in the darkness weighing her options. A clearing throat on the other end of the phone line reminded her that her friend was still there.

    "  Penny, I promise, okay? Now let me let you go before we run up the phone bill so much we can't talk again this month! I love you, bye!"  As she hung up the phone, she watched the wolf shift into human form before her eyes. When he made for the front door of her cottage, she cursed, running into the hall. Grabbing her shotgun, she prepared herself for whatever was about to take place.

 ****

    Soon he reached what he'd been seeking, an old abandoned cottage. Enough human scents lingered around the old house that maybe it would throw that thing off of his trail. Glancing around, he looked for some sign of the beast. When he found he was indeed alone, he let go of his hold on the wolf's form and became a man.

    Moving quickly, he stepped into the cottage he'd known would be here, thankful he'd not forgotten the way. When he closed the door, he heard a shocked intake of breath. He pivoted toward the sound and found a dark-haired woman with startling blue eyes and a rifle aimed at his head. "  So, tell me,"  she spoke slowly. "  Did a thief steal your clothes, or did you shed them to become one of those things outside?"

    Darmetheus faced her with wide eyes. Raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, he spoke softly. "  You are safe, okay? I am not one of those things."

    The girl gave an exasperated laugh with a roll of her eyes. "  Yeah . . . and I'm Santa Claus' cousin."

    Darmetheus couldn't stop himself. "  Merry Christmas,"  he said in a low voice. His eyes never left hers. He could take the gun from her in mere seconds, but that would only alarm her more. So instead, he stood stock still and tried to reason with her. "  Come on, think about it. I was riding my bike through town. Those things jumped me and I ran."

    The girl stepped out of the shadows and closer to him, giving him a better view of her stunning looks. She was short. No more than five-foot, two with long black hair and eyes that looked like a clear sky in winter. "  Really? Then where are your clothes?"

    He would have been completely mesmerized by her looks if he hadn't found himself staring down the barrel of her shotgun. Yeah, idiot! Lie your way out of that one! Darmetheus winced at the thought. "I took them off. A piece here, a piece there, trying to scatter my scent."

    Indecision seemed to cloud her crystal blue eyes for a moment before she lowered the gun slightly. "  You swear to me, you aren't one of those things?"

    He nodded. "  Yes. I swear. I was just passing through. I would have gone a different way if I'd known there were rabid dogs out and about."

    Shivering at the thought, she whispered, "  Those things aren't dogs. They aren't even wolves." Lowering her shotgun, she moved to the closet and pulled out a large t-shirt, and a pair of sweats. "  This might fit you, I guess."

    He caught the clothes she tossed at him and looked at the bright pink t-shirt with disdain. "  Do you have anything a little less . . . feminine?"

    Snickering, she rolled her eyes for the second time since they'd met. "  Not that would fit you, I don't."  She said, looking his masculine frame over. "  You're huge!"  She sat the gun down in the corner and moved to lock the door. "  I'm Lilith. My father bought this cottage when I was little. I moved in when all the crazy things started happening in town."

    Darmetheus quirked an eyebrow at her. "  But, why wouldn't you just stay in town? Isn't it safer there?"  Lilith shook her head. "  No. Those things aren't intimidated by locked doors, or silver . . . or much of anything else, for that matter. They'll come right into your home and steal you from your bed. The only people that don't seem to be too bothered are the ones who don't live in town."

    He frowned. "  Well, that's weird."                    Back to Eternal Moon

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Magic's Reflection

    The fire burned. Bitterly, he stared at the immortal flame before him. He truly hated Nathaniel Jameson. He hated every little thing about the tiresome boy. He dallied with the lives around him without even thinking about the consequences of his carelessness. Oh, sure, the boy was brave. As brave as any other fool who thought himself invincible! But, in the end, his bravery had counted for naught. He had died anyway, killed in the same blast that had also cost The Shadow his own life.

    Darius smirked. Who would have thought it would happen that way? Who would have guessed that what would kill the one, would also snuff out the life of the other? So now, he was stuck. A Keeper behind the reflection of the Looking Glass. Encased within the walls of this hard, cold mirror. Cursed here by his own son. Krystov had surprised him at the last moment by switching sides. Memories of the day his son had cast the spell that sent him into the accursed glass drifted through his mind. . .

    . . ."  Father, I fear you will be sent to the Keep, if you are anywhere near this final battle. I'm sorry for deceiving you . . . but you're on the losing side of this war. I don't want you to suffer the same fate as Mother."  Magic in hand, Krystov had cursed Darius into the mirror and left him stranded inside its depths with no choice but to watch the final battle with no possible way of adding his strength to either side. As he'd watched, he'd seen the moments of the final battle. He watched helplessly as Krystov, Justin, Celeste, and Nathaniel fought side by side. Celeste had been knocked out by the same blast that had killed both The Shadow and Nathaniel, while Justin scrambled to pull both her and Krystov away from the blast.

    When the smoke cleared Darius could see no sign of them. Darius was alone inside the depths of the damnable mirror with no knowledge of the fate of his son―or anyone else, for that matter. He'd watched as Rebecca went mad as a result of her worry for their son when he was given his first duty as a Mage Traitor. Darius scowled at the thought of how weak she'd turned out to be. She'd succumbed to the fears in her mind and was now locked away in the Magical Hospital. She had no chance of ever leaving the safety of the padded cell that was warded against Magic, so she could not even manage to take her own life and end her misery.

    Well, he sneered at the thought; at least she never had to know what had become of him. Not that the witch had ever cared. No one missed him. He doubted if anyone ever even bothered looking for him now. He was long forgotten. Discarded . . . scarcely a recollection. A distant, unpleasant memory of the past. It all seemed so long ago now. He'd been inside this accursed mirror for what was beginning to seem like an eternity. Worse still, the mirror, for some reason, had fallen into Mortal hands.

    As best he could tell, the mirror was now housed in some kind of antiquities store. There was little hope that he would ever know rescue from this glass of the ' Keep'  now. Krystov had disappeared after the battle. He'd never returned to claim the mirror as he ' d promised he would. For all Darius knew, he was dead. A moment of panic assailed him as once more, the thought of an eternity spent behind this looking glass invaded his mind. It was a fate worse than death!

    Sinking down in the darkness of the Keep, he wondered if there was ever to be a reprieve from this hell he found himself in. Surely, there was a way to end this torment. As he sat, mulling over his predicament, he heard the sound of voices. Curious, he rose and moved to the mirror's edge to see who was talking. A woman with oddly familiar features was talking to the shop's attendant: "  I am just so delighted by how well preserved this old mirror is. You always have such lovely things here."

    The middle-aged woman smiled first at the saleswoman, then up at the mirror. "  And I just know this would be the perfect addition to my daughter's home. She needs something to brighten the place up."  Darius' jaw clenched as he masked his face with his most fearsome scowl. She thinks to buy me? He moved closer to the mirror's edge, wishing his face could be seen by the two unknowing Mortals. He wanted to scream at them to open their eyes and see him. Oblivious to their unseen observer, the two women negotiated the price of the antique mirror.

    Darius stared at them, appalled. He watched in horror as the strangely familiar woman paid for the mirror and the sales clerk called her son to pack the artifact. He scowled at the scrawny boy who moved to grasp the mirror's frame. "  If you drop me, you'll regret it!"  The boy hefted the mirror up over his head without any indication he'd even heard Darius. The wizard cursed angrily.

    It mattered not one bit if he ranted and raved about the boy carrying him, or that the woman buying his mirror looked oddly familiar. All that mattered was that he was being taken away from this place. Perhaps the woman would have an inkling of Magic in her blood and might even help him escape from this glass keep. It was a momentary ray of hope, one that faded when the mirror's depths were thrown into darkness as the wrapping paper covered his only source of light.

    "  I hope you don't mind, dear, but, I brought you a house warming present."  Darius found himself listening intently to the voice of the woman who had purchased him. He wondered if the daughter was as boringly Mortal as the mother. When the voice came, it was a sweet sound to his ears. "  Thanks, Mum. You really didn ' t have to bring me anything."  Darius trembled with an excitement he could barely contain. He knew that voice. He'd heard it before, many times he had listened to the little smart-ass explain this and that to her friends, and upon occasion, even his son.

    Celeste Swansong! Of course! That was why the other lady's unruly curls and flashing eyes had seemed so familiar! Darius silently thanked the powers that be for the mercy they'd seen fit to show upon him. Surely, Miss Swansong will be able to see my face in the mirror and will know how to reach Krystov. Then, he would know freedom again! "  Nonsense,"  her mother chirped happily. "  This mirror will look stunning above the mantle."

    "  Oh . . ."  Darius could hear a vague sense of disappointment in Celeste's voice. "  You brought a mirror?"

    Mrs. Swansong turned and regarded her daughter for a moment. "  Yes, well, it's a beautiful antique, and I just thought it would look lovely here."

     Celeste sighed and returned her attention to the book in her hands. "  I'm sure you're right mother."  Her voice dropped lower, making it impossible for Darius to hear her soft mumble. Suddenly, Darius was almost blinded as the wrapping paper was torn away from him. Stepping forward, he looked out to gauge his new surroundings. Actually, he was quite impressed by what he saw. Celeste's mother had seen fit to place him in a room that was obviously a cozy little library. A warm fire burned in the hearth below him, and an easy chair rested a few feet away from it. A desk sat at the far side of the room. Several books were stacked upon it.

    Hesitantly, Darius stepped up to the mirror's edge and gazed out into the room. Celeste sat in the easy chair, running her hand along the page of her book, oblivious to the mirror. He observed her intently for a few moments. For some reason, although her fingers seemed to be following the words, her eyes did not focus on the page. However, it wasn't until her mother spoke that the reason for her strange behavior dawned on him. "  Just because you've lost your eyesight doesn't mean your guests have. Your friends might appreciate something pleasing to the eye here." She smiled as she moved to kiss Celeste's cheek. " And besides . . . this is not a permanent situation. You will regain your eyesight one day."

    Celeste huffed a sound of discontent and snapped the book closed before turning toward her mother. "  You've been saying that since the final battle, but there's been no change! Mum, I love you,"  her voice had risen at first, but softened as she addressed the older woman softly, "  but I am never going to regain my eyesight. It's been two years. I'm all right the way I am. I'm even fairly content. At least I haven't lost my memory, like Krystov, or my arm, like Justin. Or even my life . . ."  she paused for a moment to sigh regretfully, "  like Nathaniel."

    Darius drew a sharp breath at the mention of Krystov. Lost his memory? But that would mean . . . Darius took a deep breath to try and calm himself. That is why he never came back to free me. Someone cursed my son. Concern made him want to ask her a million questions. Was he recovering? Did he still have the Manor? Was he happy?       Back to Magic's Reflection

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   Corentin stood on the balcony, watching the night draw slowly to a close with a mixture of irritation and boredom. He felt restless and worried. Something was about to happen. He could feel it. Even the air was thick with a kind of anticipation.
   He huffed out a sigh and crossed his arms over his massive chest. His long ebony hair swung when he shook his head in disgust. He hated not knowing exactly what was about to happen. It turned him into a man even his own brothers would avoid.
   From the day the brothers were cursed to be Gargoyles, Corentin had felt himself becoming different from the others. They were all cursed the same way. But, he had found in time that his intuition became more than what the others experienced.
   When he felt something shift in his surroundings, it usually meant change was upon them. Corentin did not like change. It was usually never a good thing, and it would always make their lives even harder to bear. When the women had come, for once, the moment was positive.
   He had felt Rachel’s coming. He had been happy for Arthmael. His brother deserved every happiness. When Tarrah had come, he knew her to belong to Bastian. Again, he had felt a joy for his brother. He had been a little resentful, but not enough to be negative in the face of their happiness.
Feeling a presence behind him, he turned to find his brother Arthmael watching him with a furrowed brow. For several moments, they simply stared at each other before he groaned irritably, “What, brother? What is it that tears you away from your lovely woman’s side to come to me?”
   Arthmael took a deep breath, and stepped closer to his brother. “I need to prepare you. A friend of Tarrah and Rachel’s is coming. She will be here sometime in the morning, and I don’t want you caught unaware.”
   Turning, Corentin stared out into the darkness to keep himself from revealing his distress to his brother. “I take it she is to be brought to my tower?”
   Arthmael said nothing. When Corentin turned back to face him again, he offered him a slow nod before he explained, “Her name is Patricia. I think the girls are hoping she will be the one to break your curse.”
   Corentin couldn’t stop himself from barking out a sarcastic laugh. “Right! She’ll get a glimpse at my temper and run for her life! If she doesn’t die of fright before she can move.”
   Arthmael chuckled before answering, “Well, then perhaps now would be a good time to stop acting like an ogre.” He tilted his head, looking Corentin up and down for a moment before adding, “You used to be quite charming, long ago.”
   Both men fell silent as Corentin replayed the memory of his betroth’s reaction to his fate in the back of his mind. “Before Lyssa broke you.” His brother spoke softly, and then glanced toward the slowly rising sun. “I’m sure, deep down, you still know how to be.”
   Growling, Corentin turned toward the coming dawn. He hated to be reminded of the woman who had destroyed his heart. Even after all these centuries had past, he was still haunted by her betrayal. “Go to your woman, brother. I promise I won’t eat her guest.”
   As the two of them regarded each other, they were distracted  by Dionde landing on his own tower and moving into his position as the sun began to rise.
   Corentin nodded in Dionde’s direction and spoke, “Perhaps, instead of worrying over my lack of manners, you should inquire as to what is taking so much of Dionde’s nights. He comes home later and later each dawn.”
Arthmael looked at Dionde, agreeing with a nod before turning back to his other sibling. He smiled sadly and watched as his brother grew in size and took his position on the edge of the tower. As the sun peaked over the horizon, Corentin became the hard, cold stone that he always warned others was the flesh of his heart. Arthmael knew different. After all, his was the same imprisonment he himself had once endured.
 
 
   She’d missed her plane. She was supposed to have been on it at two o’clock that afternoon. Drawing a shaky breath, she gritted her teeth when her muscles around her stomach rebelled. Her head pounded and one eye was swollen shut. Her entire body felt like she’d been in a car crash.
   Turning her head ever so slowly, she breathed a soft sigh of relief when she saw that David was indeed sleeping. Sliding from the bed onto the floor, Patricia sat there for a moment and collected herself, breathing through the pain as she looked at the dark bruises already forming on her body.
   Rising, she peered over the mattress at his still form. David was a sound sleeper, but even so, she didn’t want to chance what would happen if he awoke. Getting onto her hands and knees, she crawled toward the closet. It was big, with plenty of space for her to stand inside and stay mostly out of his sight, were he to wake while she was trying to dress.
   Slowly, she pulled a soft cotton dress off of the hanger and slid it over her head and down over sore muscles, already turning angry colors of deep purple and blue. The movement made her wince.
   She didn’t even care that she was wearing no underclothes. All that mattered was getting to the airport and onto the next available flight. She knew that. She had hidden her passport and cell phone the night before so he couldn’t destroy them and make it impossible for her to leave.
   When she moved out of the closet, David was still sleeping, and she held her breath as she tip-toed past the bed and bent to pick up the suitcase and duffel bag she had packed. Glancing back at him, she backed slowly out the bedroom door and down the hall.
   Her eyes never left him as she watched for any sign of his awakening. When she got to the end of the hallway, she turned and ran. As fast as she could, she raced out the front door he’d left standing open and down the drive to her little Volkswagen bug.
   Throwing her bags in the back seat, she slid into the front and pulled the keys out of the small box she had hidden under the seat. Inside it were her passport, a thousand dollars she’d been saving for the day she could escape, and her social security card. Turning the key in the ignition with shaking hands, she sobbed her relief when the engine fired up, and threw the car into drive so fast her tires squealed when she pulled away from the curb.
   Speeding down the street, she looked back to see David running down the middle of the street, with only his jeans on, screaming obscenities after her. Throwing her car into a higher gear, she sped faster away from the man she had come to know as her own personal nightmare. Grabbing her sunglasses, she put them on and turned the mirror to look at her face.
   There would be no hiding the bruises. They were already covering half of her jaw and most of the side of her face. Giving in to the tears she felt sliding down her cheeks, she tried to tell herself she didn’t look quite as bad as a prize fighter after ten rounds.
   As she made her way to the airport, she hoped there would be no questions. She just couldn’t handle them on top of everything else. This was all just too much. These last years had made her old and miserable. She wondered if she’d ever find her way back to who she once was. Moreover, was there any going back? Could she ever trust again?
   Her tears turned angry as they traveled down her cheeks. She thought of all this time she had wasted on a man who not only drilled into her head every day how much he despised her, but made her hate herself as well. She hated who she was, she hated who she had become and she wanted nothing more than to escape.
   Pulling into the airport parking lot, she parked her car and rose from it awkwardly. She was stiff and her muscles ached. Grabbing her bags, she moved as swiftly as she could under the circumstances to the entrance with a nervous glance over her shoulder. Would he follow her? She didn’t put anything past him at this point.  She prayed silently that she would be lucky enough to be in the air before he arrived. If he showed up, he would cause hell.
   Of course, nothing would deter her from getting on that plane. If she was lucky enough for there to be another flight that wasn’t booked solid. Then she would be able to put this place and that man behind her.
   Moving to the desk, she smiled at the attendant, careful to keep her hair over the side of her face that was the most bruised. “Hello. I―uh―I’m sorry, but my name is Patricia Neese. I was supposed to be on the noon flight to Paris, but I was unavoidably detained.” She sighed. “Is there a chance you have another flight out today?”
   The lady behind the counter smiled at her and pulled something up on the computer. “Ah, yes, of course. Miss Neese. Your flight has been delayed. There was a problem with the plane, but there is another on the way. If you go ahead and check your luggage, you will be in time for your flight. Departure isn’t until three thirty this afternoon.” She glanced at the clock behind Patricia. “That gives you another forty-five minutes.”
   “Isn’t that wonderful, dear?” The relief she had been feeling went suddenly flat at the deep voice that closed in on her at that moment. She felt the color drain from her face at his next words. “Now we won’t miss our honeymoon after all.”
   Closing her eyes, Patricia tried to calm her racing heart. “David, this is not our honeymoon.” she said softly. “I’m leaving.”
   He chuckled, wrapping his arm tightly around her, and throwing the attendant a charming smile. “She’s such a kidder. We just got married and this trip is our honeymoon.”
   The attendant raised an eyebrow at him and looked to the computer screen. “That’s funny.” she answered. “There is no ticket for a companion for Miss Neese.” she looked closely at the man, before glancing back at Patricia. “Perhaps you have mistaken the lady here for your punching bag?”
   David growled and slammed his hand on the counter. “You bitch! How dare you? I’ll have you know you have no right to speak to me like this!”
   The attendant motioned to a guard standing near the door. A big burly man who resembled a young Lou Ferigno moved swiftly to their side. “Is there a problem?”                                   Back to Patricia's Desire

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Entity's Promise

    The two specters sat on the roof of the old house, watching the road. It was a lazy day with a gentle breeze blowing, and both souls enjoyed watching it rustle the leaves in the trees. The scene was relaxing.
    Connor turned to Gavin. “You are sure the ladies are comin’ today?”
    Without even glancing in the other ghost’s direction, Gavin nodded. “Ya, today is the day they should be arrivin’. I heard the old man make the reservation myself.”
    The other spirit looked back toward the road. “Do ya think it’ll be  them?”
    That brought Gavin’s head up. “I do no’ know if the other one is meant for you. But I heard the voice of the one who made the reservation. I felt her soul callin’ ta mine. She is meant for me.”
    Connor opened his mouth to ask yet another question, but stopped when Gavin held up his hand, then pointed toward the road. The women were coming.
 
ARRIVAL
 
    Kensington Cross stood in glorious splendor against the backdrop of the swamp. Located outside of the town of Jefferson, near the edge of the Louisiana border, it stood proud amongst the pines of the forest. The two women pulled into the small but empty parking lot with expressions of open-mouthed awe at the sight before them. It reminded them of an old Southern plantation mansion, even though it was surrounded on all four sides with forest.
    Sharing a happy look and a giggle of excitement, they grabbed their luggage and headed in to the old home to check in and get started. As excited as they were, this trip was not for fun. It was research. Kensington Cross was supposed to be one of the most haunted places in Texas. The story would fit into the Texas history magazine perfectly for the next issue.
Rosalie had brought her trusty camera with the night vision on it in hopes of catching something on film, while Kendra was looking forward to finding the motivation to write one of the best stories she could come up with while they were here. Of course, she was also hoping to  indulge her whim to begin her first novel. They were here for a week; longer if they found anything.
    After they checked in, the elderly innkeeper led the two women through the deserted inn, speaking animatedly about the history of the place. “Kensington Cross was built in the early eighteenth century. Originally, it was owned by an ancestor of mine. He built it for his betrothed as a wedding gift. During the civil war, it was a refuge to many a soldier, as well as slaves who needed aid.” He gave the women a hesitant glance. “Of course, neither one knew about the other. They had to be very careful back then. It wouldn’t have served to have our home taken from us for playing both sides. Soldiers were housed here. Runaway slaves were given sanctuary in the basement.”
    He sighed and ran his fingers through his silver hair before changing the subject. “My family redesigned it when I was just a child to serve as a bed and breakfast before the second World War.”
    Kendra found herself fascinated with his story. Unable to stop herself, she asked, “Did anyone in your family keep any records?” She hesitated before adding, “A journal, perhaps?”
    He watched her closely for a few moments before giving her a wink. “If we had such things, I can assure you, we would only be sharing them with the most trustworthy individuals . . .” he raised an eyebrow and pressed a finger to his lips before adding, “If one or two such journals made their way into your possession, I’m sure I would have no idea how.”
    Rosalie smirked, biting her lip. “I’m sure we would be very discreet with anything we found.”
    “Our home has had its share of ups and downs over the years. There were a few times when we  were afraid we would lose it.” As he led them up the spiraling staircase, he gestured around at the paintings that spanned the generations more than two centuries of. “However, as you can see, we have stood the test of time.”
    The two women, Rosalie, and Kendra, both followed his gestures with their eyes. “I can see the place has been kept up beautifully.” Rosalie offered with a friendly smile.
    The gentleman inclined his head in gracious acceptance of her praise, taking in her dancing green eyes and long auburn hair. “Of course, the establishment is almost an empty shell during this part of the year,” he explained with a smile. “You ladies will have the whole place to yourselves. Aside from us, that is.” He sighed after a moment, adding under his breath, “And the ghosts.”
    “Ghosts?” Kendra repeated in question. “How many? Do you know?”
     The kindly elder just answered, “Oh, we have many ghosts here. If they be wanting you to know of their existence . . . you can bet, they’ll be dropping in to say hello.” His eyes sparkled as he offered the brunette a mischievous smile.
    Kendra and Rosalie exchanged a look but held their silence as the innkeeper handed them each a key. This is your floor. Your rooms are right across the hall from each other.” He pointed to the room between them, “This bathroom is shared between you. If you lock this outer door, it can be accessed from your rooms and you won’t have to worry about strangers surprising you.”
    Thanking him, Rosalie and Kendra shared a smile. When Rosalie turned and went into her room, Kendra looked down the hall, feeling a strange sense of being watched. Brushing the feeling off, she opened the door and entered into her room as well.                                  Back to Entity's Promise

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