Chapter 26
Pushing a strand of fair hair back from her face, Arabella turned over a leaf on her favorite tea bush, trying to decide if it was quite ready for harvest or not.
In the middle of a Crimble Mountain winter, of course, this bush shouldn’t be growing at all, much less flourishing as it was.
But she and her sister carefully maintained the bubble atmosphere-spell around the tea garden, which kept everything nice and clement, the perfect conditions for tea plants.
This was Arabella’s particular favorite taeral bush.
While she knew her sister didn’t consider it “ladylike” for women to prefer such a masculine, robust sort of flavor, Arabella figured it probably didn’t hurt anyone, especially if she was discreet about it.
She’d learned over her seventy-odd years to be discreet about many things she liked.
She was just coming to the decision that the bush wanted another day or two to be fully ready, when Aurora’s voice called out sharply, “Arabella! Did you check the protection wards this morning like you’re supposed to?”
“Yes, I did, Rory,” Arabella replied with a petulant huff. “Of course, I did. I wouldn’t let the wards . . .”
She stopped.
Because, in turning to look grumpily back at her sister, she found herself looking instead at what her sister had discovered.
Nothing less than a big, awful, ugly, sorcerous portal opening through the veils of reality, right inside their well-warded property.
Spewing ugly motes of anti-glitter every which way.
“Sorcerer incoming!” Aurora cried, brandishing her hoe.
Arabella looked around for something she might use as a weapon.
She only had her pruning shears, but she held them aloft and gave a dangerous snip-snip!
just to make herself feel better. Not for the first time, she wished Apolonia were still with them.
Apolonia not only did not fear sorcerers, she relished any chance encounter or opportunity to inflict as much pain as she could upon their sorry hides.
Neither Arabella nor Aurora was aggressive enough to enjoy such measures, but they were willing to do what must be done.
The portal opened, sputtering more anti-glitter.
Out stepped an absolutely enormous and supremely fluffy demon. It looked around the cottage yard, spotted Arabella and Aurora in their garden, and blinked blandly. Then it sat on its furry haunches, and two figures slid from its back.
Arabella blinked in surprise.
That one figure—why! He looked as though he could have stepped right out of the pages of one of her secretly-cherished romance novels, the ones she kept hidden in her darning basket where Aurora couldn’t find them.
His silk dressing gown and shirt hung open, revealing quite a nicely-toned chest, and his hair flopped over his forehead, and his handsome face was positively riven with anguish and devotion!
Granted, were he really out of a romance novel, he would probably be a good bit taller and a whole lot broader, with long flowing locks of raven hair and possibly some sexy tattoos, but Arabella wasn’t about to be picky.
Not at her time of life. Besides, this one did sport at least one tattoo.
A big, ugly heptagram, right there on his exposed chest. Marking him as a sorcerer.
He was also carrying her darling sweet Luna in his arms.
“Please!” he called out in a voice so posh and dreamy, despite obvious signs of exhaustion, fear, and pain. “Please, help her!”
He took a few steps toward them, carrying his fragile burden. Then he collapsed headlong, right on the border of the tea garden.
Arabella and Aurora exchanged stunned glances.
“Meow,” Gronk Cat opined. And no one dared contradict him.