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IN MOONLIGHT
An Excerpt From: FULL MOON MAGIC
© Copyright J.C.
WILDER, 2004.
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave, Inc.
Esmerelda Proctor stared at
the wedding gown in absolute horror. The white silk and tulle creation was
nestled in a bed of ivory tissue paper in an oversized cardboard box
closely resembling a coffin. The bodice and long, fitted sleeves were
covered in delicate seed pearls, glittering crystals and yards of Brussels
lace. The voluminous tulle skirt was barely restrained by the yards of
tissue paper wrapped around it. At the bottom of the box, her mother’s
wedding tiara was nestled in its own bed of tissue paper next to dainty
silk slippers.
Her eyes slid shut and a feeling of impending disaster
washed over her. Maybe it was a mistake and she’d imagined the gown on her
bed. A half-laugh, half-sob escaped and her hands fisted. She took a deep
breath and slowly released it before allowing herself to open her eyes.
The gown was still there.
“Drat.”
Fashioned for her great-great grandmother, the original Esmerelda, the gown was fit for a princess and, despite
its age, was as pristine as the day it was first worn. Her
great-grandmother, Angelina, had worn the dress, as had her grandmother,
Brianna, and finally her mother, Carolan. It was
part and parcel of being the seventh Proctor daughter of a seventh Proctor
daughter legacy. She, Esmerelda Julianna Proctor, was the last of her line and destined
to wear this dress.
Only she’d been hoping it wouldn’t be this soon. Her
lips twisted. Not to mention the fact that the dress would never fit her
without magical assistance. Carolan had been a
sleek size eight, while Esme was a sturdy size
sixteen. She sighed again, poked at a sleeve and felt something stiff
tucked into the edge of the box.
A thick, cream linen envelope peeked out from the layers
of cloth and paper. She picked it up and her stomach plummeted. The paper
was obviously expensive and on the back was her father’s seal, a raven with
a dagger clutched in its claws.
She broke the scarlet wax with a fingernail, tipped the
envelope over and a cassette tape fell out. Her hand trembled as she picked
it up and hurried to her stereo to shove it into the player. She pushed the
play button.
“Esmerelda.” Her father’s
voice sounded from the speakers. “The day has come for you to fulfill your
duties to your family and marry the Montgomery
heir as was set forth in the betrothal contract. By now you’ve received the
wedding gown and everything you’ll need for the ceremony. The car will pick
you up Saturday morning at 10:00 a.m. and the ceremony is set for 10:45
a.m. sharp. If anything is missing or does not fit properly, have Shani contact my assistant and they will take care of
the issue.” There was a slight pause and the sound of a heavily indrawn
breath.
“Do not disappoint me.”
The tape whirred, then fell
silent. Esme stared at the player in total
disbelief.
“This can’t be happening.” She crumpled the envelope in
her hand and her stomach cramped with betrayal. The message hadn’t
contained even the slightest hint of affection that a father should have
shown his daughter. Instead, it had been a cold and impersonal message, as
if he were speaking to a complete stranger.
Her lip curled. Edward Barrows-Proctor hadn’t even
granted her permission to contact him. Instead she’d been directed to go
through her guard, who in turn would contact her father’s assistant. She
bit her lip hard to prevent the sob that threatened to erupt.
My father doesn’t give a damn about me.
An Excerpt From: HALF MOON MAGICK
© Copyright LIDDY
MIDNIGHT, 2004.
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave, Inc.
Black Isolde carefully poured
a small amount of oil over the water in her wide bowl of hammered copper . The scents of lavender and mint rose as the
water warmed the oils. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a moment,
letting the fragrances relax her body and clear her mind. She opened her
eyes and stared into the bowl, her gaze unfocused.
The surface of the oil smoothed,
the shimmer of the pouring subsiding. The image of the cottage ceiling
appeared briefly. In its place came swirls of color, blues and greens,
random shapes that gradually resolved into recognizable figures. Tree
boughs heavy with summer leaves grew to fill the vision, her perspective
falling lower until only the huge trunks loomed around her.
The forest she saw was unknown to her, a quiet place of
deep shadows. ‘Twas too quiet. Unsettled, she
searched the vision for other signs of life, birds in flight or squirrels
at play. Nothing moved in the dappled light.
Mist began to rise from the ground, wreathing the trees
in first gray and then white as it gathered and thickened. Through the
gauzy streamers came a man.
Oh, dear Goddess, what a man!
She’d seen him before, in dreams of prophecy and visions
of her future. Now he strode boldly toward her, parting the mist. Behind
and around him crowded the denizens of the forest. Flocks of birds and
families of animals—deer and wolves, bears and rabbits—soared and romped as
the fog dispersed.
Above him, sparrows flew around a hawk, unconcerned,
indeed teasing the raptor with close dives. The sly tap of a wingtip sent
them tumbling downward in a feathery cascade. Isolde
could almost hear their excited chatter as they recovered and climbed to
begin their game anew.
Like the creatures he led, the man wore nothing more
than the Goddess had blessed him with.
Had She ever blessed him!
An Excerpt From: WISHFUL THINKING
© Copyright ELISA
ADAMS, 2004.
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave, Inc.
Clara sighed. The
young. They never understood anything. “Many spells are performed at night,
Mia. You, of all people, should know that.”
“Oh, believe me, I
understand. What I don’t get is all the secrecy. You only sneak around
behind everyone’s back if you’ve got some idea cooked up, or if there’s
something seriously wrong.” Mia frowned, her expression darkening. “Please
tell me there isn’t something seriously wrong with you, or Uncle Lou.”
“Oh for Goddess’
sake, I’m fine. I was making a wish. That’s all.”
“A wish.” Mia
repeated, not looking at all sure that she believed it.
Clara nodded as
she picked up her crutches and made her way to the gazebo steps. “It seems
to be the only way I’m going to get what I want.” She ignored Mia’s silent
offer of help and hobbled down the steps, leaning on the metal crutches for
support. She was halfway across the yard before Mia followed her.
“Slow down before
you fall and do some more damage to yourself,” she said, stopping on the
stone path in front of her so Clara had to come to a halt or knock her
niece over.
“I’m sixty-four,
not a hundred and four. I’m perfectly aware of what my limitations are,”
Clara told her, ignoring Mia’s pointed gaze at the cast on her leg. “You
need to worry about yourself and stop trying to mother everyone else.
Especially those of us who are older than you.”
Mia wasn’t
deterred that easily, no matter how much Clara had hoped she’d be.
“What is it that
you could possibly want? You’ve got everything you need right here.” Mia
sighed heavily and shook her head. Clara felt the annoyance radiating from
her niece and felt guilty for causing it. But, in the end, it would be
worth it.
“It’s nothing you
need to worry about, Mia. Honestly, you’re much too serious for someone so
young. Live a little.”
She just wanted
Mia to be happy. The girl had been alone for too long. She deserved a home
and a father for Frances.
She had such a nurturing, caring manner, and Clara hated to see it wasted
on an aging couple and a tiny bed and breakfast when she could put it to
much better use.
Mia said
she was happy here, but Clara wondered. There had to be some small part of
her itching to leave, to live her life the way she was meant to. The girl
was only twenty-eight. If her life kept going along its current path, she’d
stay single and alone, and never leave Bennett Island.
Mia argued that
she had Frances,
and yes, Clara understood that the child took a lot of her time. But Frances was happy and healthy, if not a
little bit mischievous, and everyone doted on her for the summers they
spent on the Island. Mia had no one to make
her feel special. Everyone
needed someone like that in their lives, and Mia had been without for too
long—three years last month. Her grieving was over, and it was time for her
to move on. But, for some reason, the girl seemed insistent on moving in
permanently and hiding away from the rest of the world.
Clara wasn’t about
to sit back and let that happen. Mia needed a gentle nudge—which
Clara was all too happy to provide. She gave her niece a big smile and
gestured to the waning moon above. “There will be a new moon soon.”
“I’m aware of
that,” Mia answered, her tone laced with suspicion.
“That’s the
perfect time for self-improvement.”
Mia laughed at
that, which Clara took as a good sign. “Are you planning to get a
makeover?”
“No, dear. But it
would be a good time for you to embark on something new—like a
relationship.”
Mia let out groan
and turned away, hurrying the final few steps to the back door. “I’ll be
inside if you need me. Please be careful out here.”
“Goodnight, Mia.”
Clara laughed to herself as she watched Mia walk away. The girl was nothing
if not predictable. Just the mention of new relationships had her running
in the other direction. She didn’t understand, despite all that had
happened in her young life, that she couldn’t fight her destiny. And Clara
knew Mia’s destiny did not lie on this little island—at least not in
the way she thought it did.
That was how Clara
had come to this—her last resort, a wish spell in the middle of the night.
With any luck, the spell would take quickly and bring some happiness for
Mia to the island soon. The tourist season was winding to a close, winter
was fast approaching, and in a little less than a month Clara’s Bed and
Breakfast would shut its doors until spring. This might be Clara’s chance
for several months to help Mia find some true happiness. Clara chuckled to
herself.
Sometimes fate
needed a little push.
CLOSE WINDOW
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