Autobiography of a Paradox
I don't do politics, I play chess
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I'm Ice and Fire. I love adventure and try to live life as if it was one. I'm a passionate romantic, a silly goof with a dry sense of humor.
I'm a seasoned PR and Marketing professional with a strong focus on consumer and gaming industry. At the moment I'm consulting for Chillingo, as Head of Communications, a leading publisher of games for the iPhone. I specialize in brand building campaigns that create excitement among the press and consumer communities. From strategic suggestions on game creation, to tailored PR and marketing campaigns, I use my know to get the games the attention and the sales they deserve. Pretty much every game I take under my wing goes AAA. Bottom line, I love what I do.
Im a Co-Founder of Renaissance Productions and a co-producer of a series of most amazing themed events in USA. These include Calaveras Celtic Faire, Golden Gate Renaissance Faire, Valhalla Renaissance Faire, Shasta and Folsom Renaissance Faires and Ardenwood Shakespeare Festival and many others. Also, I have established two successful guilds on the circuit: Royal White Eagle (www.royalwhiteeagle.com) premier Polish Renaissance reenactment group based out of San Jose, Ca., and Needles Eye, tailors guild that offers a glimpse to how clothes of the past were made. I'm an actress and have played a series of key roles on the faire circuit including those of Queen Mary of Scotland and Anna Jagiellonka, a Polish princess on travels though Europe.
I have a passion for history and horses. I used to compete in endurance racing and I made the Barcelona Team in 92. But that was then. Currently, I am a proud owner for a black Percheron gelding named Knight. Knight is an ex jousting horse who lost the passion for lance carrying, armor bearing jousters, who bounced their sticks on his head. I started Knight under saddle before he entered the jousting world and I fell in love with him from the start. When I heard of his retirement, I jumped at the chance to own him. Now when ever possible, I entertain faire goers by riding my black steed in beautiful gowns while competing against knights in pas de arms events at faires.
I love seeing people and companies succeed, and I enjoy having a hand in making good things happen, making other's dreams come true. That's my greatest virtue and vice.
PR PORTFOLIO
VARIOUS ENDEAVOURS
Me, my horse in my latest my duds
Co Producter, Theme Director, Guild coordination, Marketing, PR, Creative design and ad placement
Marketing, PR, Creative design and ad placementt
Marketing, PR, Creative design and ad placement. Also a speaker _ the conference
Logo Design
Logo design & website design
Co Production and Creative
CREATIVE WRITING
Noirciret Blanc Club in Paris, France. A sanctuary for every weirdo that considered himself or herself unnatural, or in touch with the spirit world, and those who actually were. Knowing Jessicas passion for the occult I should have expected something like it, but I was taken aback just the same by this dimly lit dungeon and its patrons.
The club was situated in the cellars beneath a beautiful mansion in the vicinity of the Palais de Justice, a part of Paris still reminiscent of the late 1780s revolutionary period. The house had been undergoing renovations when a wall to an antechamber crumbled exposing a dark corridor that had led the perplexed workers into catacombs used to house prisoners during the French Revolution. Capitalizing on the history and atmosphere, the murky corridors of the vault were quickly renovated into a spacious club.
From the outside, the club's outer building resembled any other establishment in this part of town: im-posing, beautiful and majestic. Three massively build guards loomed outside the wooden double doors which comprised the front entrance to the club. The line of clientele dressed in a variety of attire and black leather covered a myriad of styles from the modern to something that might have been in fashion several centuries past. I was impressed with some of the Victorian inspirations I spied in the line and wanted to examine them closer, but Jess skipped the waiting clientele all together and with my hand clasped tightly in hers, she pulled me to the lead guard, unperturbed by the looks from the not so pa-tiently awaiting crowds. She caught the eye of the bouncer who had been scanning a clipboard of names, who, and there was no mistake in this, was one of the largest human beings Id ever seen. She tugged at his sleeve until he leaned down to her so that she could whisper something into his ear. Then, he beamed her a bemused expression. It resembled more of a snarl more than a smile, but Jess did not seem to mind. He looked us over once, raised her brow when he saw me and then with a shrug, moved out of the way to let us in.
The two rearmost guards just as intimidating as the one we just passed opened the double doors and we stepped into a dark corridor and down a wide windy staircase that led us to a balcony overlooking the cellar hall from which the music emanated.
The grotto below was cut into a gothic cruciform floor plan with a long nave marking the body of the club and ending in two apses. It was flanked on either side by two wide aisles. Private dining booths converted from prison cells lined each wall of the aisles. A small battalion of bartenders busied themselves behind an enormous bar at the head apse. A large gothic chandelier hung high above the crossing, bathing the seductively moving mass of dancers in a shimmering light. Numerous wall torches finished off the ambiance of the club. The thick, sweet scent of black lickerish permeated the air. Absinthe seemed to be the main choice of poison for the night.
The abundance of power that reverberated from within was riveting. The air was thick with magic. It emanated from everywhere. Witches, druids, vampires, lupins, faes and even some creatures whose aura I did not recognize mingled openly while other beings too unnatural to be seen by this assembly surveyed the clubs patrons from their darkened private dining-cells. A chill ran through me and bile formed in my throat as I watched the people below. Most humans who entered these sorts of establishments did not know what they were dabbling in. They came for the atmosphere, or to catch a taste of the paranormal they should have feared. I found out first hand the travesty that magic in the wrong hands could cause. And magic was not the only thing to fear here. If these humans prized their lives at all theyd avoid places like this. Noirciret Blanc was like a five star restaurant with an amazing dinner menu live, ready and willing to be served.
Jessica was one of the true minorities in the crowd a powerful witch even at her young age. Magic was strong in her family, and she was especially gifted. I, on the other hand, could sense, taste and recognize magic, but beyond that, nada. It wasnt always like that. I too was born with the ability to wield the power and showed much promise right from the start. But the ability evaporated the day my parents died some ten years ago. It was an awful time in my life and it was thought that the pain I experienced locked the magic deep inside me, so deep in fact that I could not draw upon it. The Ministry of Magic and the Guardians Guild did try to reverse my bound state. They tried all of their tricks: powerful spells, mind probes, crap that Id rather not remember, but nothing worked.
Jess never gave up on me though. At every turn she drew at her bottomless bag of optimism to keep me tied to this world of paranormal I was born into. Thanks to her I became an encyclopedia of useless spells, wards, and rituals without the ability to bring them to life. It is one thing to know magic, another to wield it. The sudden withdrawal of it almost made me mad. Going cold turkey from hardcore mind control and amazing abilities to nothing was absolutely devastating. Hell, I could not even raise wards. Even humans dabbling in the occult who know nothing of the hand of power can do that. Me? Nothing. The wards never kept, they just cracked like flies caught in a fly zapper then simply fizzled away. As to salt, ever the symbol of purity and a binding agent, in my hands was only good in the kitchen.
Eventually, with reluctance I accepted that the path of magic was closed to me and I moved on with my mundane existence, enjoying life and the simple pleasures it offered. I had a great career, my hobbies, was surrounded by people that loved me. I even had a studly fiancé...until a few hours ago.
Oh hell. Coming to places like Noirciret Blanc constrains my soul every time. After all, I was born with power, was filled with it, wielded it; it was a part of my nature, a part of me. When I lost it, I lost a part of myself. But here we were nonetheless. I watched the darkly attired crowd mesmerized. Noirciret Blanc was nothing like the Goth clubs I attended with Jess in San Fran. For one, Ive not seen so many beautiful, spellbinding people in one place at one time, ever. Most women were garbed in Victorian-influenced couture, hairstyles to match. Men by their side wore similar period-style garments. Most were in their twenties. A decade older and certainly not dressed to kill, I stood out like a sore thumb.
The crowd on the dance floor moved sensuously to an arousing beat of primarily Goth-ish Euro techno renaissance mix, some in Latin and other languages that I did not recognize. I recognized some Delerium and Lesiem, but most of the repertoire was too dark and loud for my taste. Where tastes were a topic again, I was in the minority. This was definitely an in crowd, and we most certainly were the outsiders. They all gawked at us and our little dark corner. We invaded their sanctuary. Jess at least was somewhat accepted. Her reputation preceded her and her magic was recognized wherever she went. Those who wielded power knew who and what she was, and left us alone. But the crowd surveyed me with something that boarded on disgust. I did not explode with magic and considering I was still garbed in my equestrian attire, dirty and smelling rather strongly of my horse and manure, not to mention Ive not had a chance to look at myself in the mirror in hours, where they were concerned, I was probably something revolting to behold.
Of all the places to pick, why did she drag me here? 'Cause for just a second I was persuaded I wanted blood and Jess thought this would be a perfect place to get it After all, humans are so easy to manipulate when you dangle a carrot of power in their face.
And so here we were getting plastered and disturbing the atmosphere of the French spiritual underground thinking up ways we could repay pain with pain. Except that with every drink my anger subsided; which pissed off Jessica to no end. Totally drunk now, actually first time Ive seen her in this condition, she was out of control and I wasnt sure what to do. . She cursed loudly in French, English, or Latin the whole of male race. At least she did not cast spells. Her tantrums, however human, did not sit well with the establishment. It took some courage, but the manager finally did approach our table and asked us to leave. First time Jess just waved him away. The second time he approached she just pierced him with a look. She must have probed him because the red color drained from his face. Few words into his sentence he gave up all together and he left. Jess would not budge. I did not either, I couldnt without her.
"Men suck!"Jessica yelled again and hiccupped. "Bastards, theyre all firkin bastards." Her mascara blackened most of her face and she looked horrible. I actually felt worse for her than myself at this moment. The silly git was taking the whole situation so much worse than I. Then again, I had practice in getting my heart broken and she, the ever fervent romantic, could not believe that shit like that happened to friends of hers, especially me. Im a pretty private person even a recluse to some, so she did not realize the emotional baggage I was holding onto until she faced it herself. I smirked and shook my head. Poor gal. Welcome to my fucked up world.
Jess sat down to the table again and poured herself another glass alcohol. I wanted pass out so bad. I needed some time to think and her loud and obnoxious attitude really was beginning to piss me off. And then of course there was this club she dragged us into. The cold daggers I felt cast in our direction were beginning to make me feel really uncomfortable. The unwanted attention was really making me cringe.
I lifted my glass taking another sip of whatever she poured. It tasted hot and spicy. Jessica brought it after her last turn with the bartender. He cut her off already but when he wasnt looking she grabbed two bottles closest to her and smuggled them to the table. I wish I knew what she obtained before taking that first swig. I almost choked as the burning, vile liquid as it swept down my windpipe. I truly believe that my ears actually rose in temperature by about 5 degrees and some of the nerve ending in my pupils must have shriveled up and died when the hot tears filled my eyes. But, I liked spicy things and the taste improved with each following sip I took. Now I was simply drinking it because the hot liquid actually kept me awake rather than getting me drunk and staying awake was what I intended to do.
Her drink? Vodka. Damn light weight finish your drink and pass out, I thought, still embarrassed by her earlier outbursts. As if on command, she smiled, raised her glass, gulped down the rest of was left in her shooter and promptly hit her head on the table. I sighed in relief. Finally.
May I join you?
I was so absorbed in thought that I did not hear anyone approach our little dark corner. The husky voice belonged to a mountain of a man whose face I could not make out in the shadows. By the less than amused expressions of women who flaunted themselves behind him, in hopes that he would take notice, I was pretty sure that my stranger was either very important, a great looker, or both. A shiver ran up my spine as I felt a blast of power reverberate off my shields, but he did not penetrate and probe at me. My stranger was Otherworld and very powerful.
Without waiting for an answer he slid himself into the seat across from me, next to Jess.
I have not extended an invitation for you to sit down, so, aveatque vale, please. I ended the sentence in Latin, to underline the point, pretty sure that the words were not lost on him. The unwelcome guest only made himself more comfortable by leaning his back on the wall behind him. I felt the intensity of his eyes on me as he studied me in the prolonged silence. Finally he pointed at Jessica.
I hear your friend has man trouble. Anyone I can off? Im offering my services. His voice was light and filled with humor, and his demeanor took me by surprise. He had a faint accent that I could not place. It certainly wasnt French, German or Slavic, but definitely European. Hungarian perhaps? I groaned inwardly. I was not in the state of mind to entertain smug, presumptive, studs.
If you showed up a few hours ago, you probably would have gotten the job. But the more I think about it, I dont think he is worth the trouble.
Isnt that up to Jessica?
Like I expected, in these circles everyone knew who Jess was. I looked over at my drunk friend sprawled on the table, snoring lightly. My best friend was a full package: gorgeous, intelligent, fun with a captivating personality and power most could only imagine. I on the other hand was thought strong, prudent, always in control. No one ever thought me a damsel in distress; I never gave off such a vibe. Thats probably why his comment stung. Actually no. Im the offended party. I think I noticed him raise an eyebrow in surprise. You see, my best friend here and I have found my fiex fiancé in bed with another woman earlier today.
You must think me a total ass. he said finally leaning forward for the first time offering me a chance to study him. He was in his late thirties, and, as I expected, ruggedly handsome. His black mane siluetted his chiseled facial features and settled on his broad shoulders in small waves. A few strands of his indigo locks fell over his eyes and I swallowed as those pools of dark yellowish green met me straight on. There was something unnatural about them, something about their depth; they did not belong on the face of a man this young. They belonged to someone who lived for centuries, someone hundreds of years old on whom the knowledge of centuries past wasnt wasted. I saw amazing power in those eyes, so much power and magic in fact a cold shiver ran through me, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. The gentleness that protruded from his orbs was just as strong and surprising. A crooked half smile on his lips too was reassuring. But didnt the most dangerous predators usually look most inviting?
I groaned inwardly, raised my glass in mock salute and emptied the contents hastily. I regretted doing so immediately. The drink was tall, and the thick hot liquid coated my throat burning all the way down. I felt my eyes water then my throat locked up. I could not take a breath. My hands latched around my throat as I started gasping for breath. Anguish, confusion, pain filled my senses and red tears filled my eyes. I pierced him with a horrified glare and a plea for help.
In seconds he was next to me. He firmly pressed me to his back, wrapped one of his hands around my shoulders while the other settled on my forehead. He pulled my head upwards. Breathe, you need to breathe through this. Adara, breathe. he whispered urgently. I fought hard for the control of my body and finally managed a tiny gasp. He pulled a small box out of his pocket, thumbed it open, placed it under my nose and made me take a whiff of its contents. With difficulty I managed to take in the vapor. The cooling sensation of something resembling vanilla filled my nostrils then spread through my insights and almost immediately my throat started relaxing. Just as it did, he smeared a tiny portion of the salve on my lips. I licked at it as he instructed. His soothing voice guided me through breathing as the ointment melted and coated my burned mouth and insights.
He waived towards the bartender who immediately brought a bottle of sparkling water to our table. He diluted some of the ointment in the glass and guided it to my lips. I downed the liquid as he instructed. I dont think I ever tasted anything so wonderful. He whispered soothingly in another language, and once awhile I heard him speak my name, his hand lightly caressed my cheek while with the other he drew me in close. He locked his fingers with mine and held me tight. The weight of the day settled on me heavily and drained me emotionally as well. In that moment it felt good to be just held. I closed my eyes and relaxed into him. I was lulled into a sort of serenity by his voice and the warmth of his caress. It was awhile later, when I heard him whisper my name again, did I return back to reality.
How do you know my name? I managed coarsely, my throat still throbbing.
I felt his chest raise and fall as he murmured into my hair. Jess brother Steve. Seems that Jess hasnt been answering her phone and she also blocked him telepathically. He had asked for my help in finding her and you. Noirciret Blanc is Jess regular hang out place. The bartender called me when you two arrived.
Ah I managed. That was just like Steve. Hed never intrude on his sister, but would keep an eye from afar to make sure she was all right. He was always ready to come to her aid. Jack and Mike, her two other brothers, were just as attentive of their youngest sibling and just as protective of me. The feeling of warmth spread through me as I thought of them. Demarion shifted and reached for the almost empty bottle of the liquor I was drinking. He examined in the light.
That was awful. I managed sparing it a glance.
Yet youve managed to empty most of it. He said teasingly. What I cant fathom is how didnt kill over some time ago.
Huh? I jerked away from him and looked at him sternly.
Incandia is not meant to be drunk in gulps, its meant to be sipped. And in small quantities, even by my kind. The ingredients are harsh, can burn a hole right through you if you dont build the necessary immunity.
Your kind? I knew he would not reveal to me what he was, but I could not stop myself from teasing. When he did not say anything, as I expected, I continued. I guess the fact that Im fond hot foods saved me. Demarion only narrowed his eyes at me, and finally nodded.
The lights slowly brightened. The music too was gone now and a number of dancers were heading for the door. I raised my eyebrow and gave Demarion a questioning look. The club will be closing in half an hour for a druid ritual. Club members only.
I started to panic. I was not interested in going anywhere. How the hell was I going drag Jess dead weight at this hour all over Paris? Hotel was not an option, the stable would draw too much unwarranted attention. I could rent another place somewhere, but I did not have any idea of where I was. And sure enough, like Demarion noted neither of us had our phones on. I actually threw mine at Mal when he managed to tear his face away from the woman he was banging; I missed the jerk and the phone shattered as it hit the wall behind him. Jessica too stunned at what she was seeing dropped her handbag to the floor. We bolted after that, trying to escape the pursuing naked Mal and a litany of apologies. I did not remember any numbers in the cell phone either. Technology sometimes it makes you brainless.
Freakn great.
Come, I will help you get your friend into a taxi. He started getting up when I caught his hand with a raised a plea. Please, we I cant go back to the hotel tonight.
He took me in for a few the without turning away he raised a finger and a hulk of a man approached the table. The man towered over both of us, and thats an accomplishment considering I was 59, my rescuer around 63. Based on the style of dress and the mannerism, I assumed this was Demarions bodyguard. Demarion said something in another language to his man. The goon never even shot me a glance, just listened to his orders and left with a nod. Demarion proceeded to unceremoniously drag unconscious Jess out of the seat and into his arms. You two can stay at my place tonight. Gregri will take you to the hotel tomorrow and help you square things off.
Ok, this was an unexpected turn of events. I was about to protest when Jessica woke, wrapped her arms around Demarion the moment she realized who was picking her up and jumped into his arms. Demi, I knew youd find us, she whispered dreamily. She game his a warm peck on a check and snuggled into the small of his heck only to fall asleep again.
Demarion shot me a winning look and preceded to move leave the club. I shook my head and followed.
Outside the club a long black limo awaited. Demarion was standing in front of it, holding the door open for me. I could see Jess inside slumped on the seat where he deposited her. He expected me to join her inside, but my legs glued themselves to the sidewalk and would not budge. So, Jessi knew him, but I did not. My face betrayed my thoughts, my mistrust, and at last my resignation. Wind picked up a little and a chill ran up my spine. With a rather apparent sigh, Demarion took a step towards me. He brushed a strand of my auburn hair out of my eye. Then relinquished his cell phone from my grip and opened it to dial. Who would you like me to dial?
Thoughtlessly gave him the number that popped into my mind. It was the only number I could remember under the circumstances. He set the phone on speaker mode, and raised an eyebrow as the answering machine picked up and Amanda Atteros attorney at Law voice rang through the dial tone. My name is Demarion Virent. Im here with Jessica Bategranand and Adara he looked at me awaiting my last name.
"Fallon."
Adara Fallon on July 22, 2008 somewhere around 1:23am in Paris, France. I found the girls stranded in my club and will be taking them home for the night. I and am planning on returning them unharmed tomorrow at their desired location. Im making this phone call as a gesture of good will as Adara here believes that Im some sort of a monster looking to snare her into my layer where I will have my way with her. I blushed hard and tried to suppress a groan that made him only grin harder in return. I leaped for the phone, but caught only the air as Demarion like a cat stepped out of the way. Though the thought has crossed my mind as she is absolutely delectable and Im a sucker for a pretty face in an intelligent woman. But, I solemnly swear to keep my fingers off her, until Im given permission.
I blushed hard and shook my head watching his performance. He left his contact information next then handed me the phone. Amanda, Ill call tomorrow.
With that I tossed the phone back to him and swept inside the limo to take the seat next to Jessica. Demarion settled himself across from me.
Please let Jess brothers know that were fine. I blurted out moments later.
Consider it done. He pulled out the phone and started texting. Anything else youd like to let him know? I shook my head.
The limo started to move slowly though the narrow Paris alleyways. I peered outside to study the buildings we were passing. Ive seen so little of Paris since weve arrived and every new street we turned onto presented another delicious splendor to take in.
The driver took one of corners sharply trying to beat the light and Jess limp body slumped onto me. I pushed her away and as I did so, she moaned. Then before either of us knew what was going to happen, she hurled all over Demarion. I pierced him with a horrified expression. He growled something in another language and reached for the window button. I rolled down the other.
I noticed a napkin dispenser in the door and pulled out a few to help him clean up the mess. Still think picking us up was a good idea? I said, trying to bring some levity to the situation.
He returned my grin Im still trying to size you up however Jess here is stacking up one heck of an IOU. In the least, I truly hope she wakes with one hell of a head ache.
He took the napkins from my hand and begun dabbing at the mess on his attire, but quickly he gave up. Rather, he pulled off his jacket and proceeded to unbutton his shirt and with them began cleaning the seat and other visible signs of vomit. It took me a moment to realize that I was guilty to the charge of the egotistical male stereotyped felony of gaping. My ex Mal was an exceptionally well-built man, but Demarion here just blew him out of the water. Demarions frame was amazing; his broad chest, chiseled abs, biceps, shoulders. My admiration of him was simply lustful. It took all my self restraint to clench my jaw shut and I return back to working on my own clothing, without back at my male companion like a lioness admiring her dinner.
Jessica moaned for a second time then and slumped back into my shoulder. Lord, not again, I thought to myself and gazed up at Demarion. By the revolting, murderous gaze he shot my friend I knew his thoughts mimicked mine. Thankfully, she didnt.
When it seemed safe again I pulled out another batch of napkins from the dispenser to continue helping clean up the mess. This is silly, Demarion uttered. Before I could gather my thoughts at his meaning I felt the air fill with magic. I felt it prickle on my skin as it pulsated through and off him ever so lightly. As it did, the air in the limo started to clear. The disgusting smell of vomit evaporated and was replaced by the sweet scent of lavender. The stains on his pants disappeared and his shirt and jacket disintegrated into powder and escaped in a small cloud of dust through the window. I looked down an my own clothing and noticed that even my stained riding pants and shirt where Knight slobbered on me some hours earlier also returned to an immaculate, clean condition.
He took a deep breath and smiled. Thats more like it. Then he met my weary expression and grimaced. I thought youd be more comfortable with our ways, considering the company you keep.
I wasnt sure how to respond or how much to reveal to him. In the world of supernatural there were rules of etiquette everyone adhered to. Asking personal questions that dealt with magic or the like was impolite. Information, after all, like in the mundane world, was power. Beings did not reveal facts about themselves openly for revealing too much or to a wrong person could prove lethal. Any friend could turn into a foe one day. Magics, spells, even names of objects or beings were weapons.
It pained me how obvious I was with my fear of paranormal. Thats why I stayed away from clubs like Noirciret Blanc and beings that exhibited any sort of supernatural qualities. Magic is a beautiful thing, but in the hands of the wrong person, it can hurt, mime, destroy. I did not want to act like a victim, flinching at even the slightest show of it, but with everything Ive been though, the fear was so ingrained I did not know how to get over it. Jessica was surprised that I survived it all without losing my mind. But I did lose something dearer: trust.
I raised my eyes to consider how to answer him. What I saw in his face was interest fueled by genuine concern. Nothing diabolical or sinister, just curiosity. I had a feeling that Jessica would tell him all about me anyway, if Sebastian didnt already and then Id have to deal with the pity. And so, with a shrug I let words spill from within.
I dont wield magic like you do. I havent in years. I have no defenses against it, against you. Knowing that Im around someone who has such power, who can use it without my knowledge, against me, make me do things, do things to me the thought is horrifying. Its like putting myself willingly in the path of Jack the Ripper, hoping that I got him on the day he does not crave to kill. I fixed Demarion with a measuring look, but softened before continuing. Power radiates of you, Demarion. Ive never seen so much power and magic in one being. It is both alluring and terrifying. On the one to ten scale of danger youre smoldering at something like a19. What bothered me most though, what I was afraid to tell him, is that his aura, his magic was faintly familiar to me, like I should know it, know him.
You think I smolder? Just like a man. He had to zone in on that one word rather than what I was trying to tell him. There was that sheepish grin again. And those eyes certainly did smolder.
Youre terrible! I grinned shaking my head, turning to the window to take in the view instead. No I wasnt going to blush. Sensing my annoyance he squeezed my palm reassuringly bringing my attention back to him. All amusement was gone now, replaced with serious resolute.
Sorry, I could not resist, nor can I help who or what I am. He leaned forward, took my hand and squeezed it lightly. Im not Jack the Ripper, not some wolf in sheeps clothing, and once more, there is no reason for you to fear me. He shot me a poignant look. Should there ever be a reason for you to fear me, you will know it. I gawked at him unsure what to say. As if aware of the tone he took, he raked a hand though his hair and smiled. Dont apologize for wanting to protect yourself. You have every right to be cautious. Knowing that there is so much more out there and not being able to protect yourself, if the need arose must be in the least frustrating. I dont know how you do it. Your strength is commendable.
I was surprised by his words, by his look. I sensed respect and pride? Ah, and, most definitely, desire. I gulped and my cheeks burned with the heat of the color that spilled there. I was going to kill Jessica for putting me in this situation. And so I drew on my practiced cool. It was time to change the subject.
How long have you known Jessica?
We met briefly at the International Occult Mixer a year ago and have kept in touch ever since. We were going to try to get together in a few days but we havent solidified a schedule. She indicated that her schedule was tight. Shes taking part at some kind of an event or something, am I right?
Yes, the Medieval Iron Man.
Thats it. Ive seen some adverts. Sounds interesting. A revival of the Sport of Kings or something like that. He scanned my attire, and eyed the MIM logo on my shirt. Youre on the team? They let women compete?
I grinned. Was there a touch of a chauvinist I detected? There are quite a few women competing in these sort of competitions, not just in sword fighting but also in the joust. The English, Canadian and Australian teams each have a woman riding in the heavy armor division. Ive seen Cecilia ride against some of the hardest male competitors and knock them off the horse. She won the US Open last years. Shes the Canadian team captain actually and she doesnt enter competitions unless shes certain she can win.
Interesting. Whats the difference between lights and heavies?
The light armor style dates more to medieval times. Knights carry a shield that takes the brunt of the force of the lance hit. In the Renaissance era they upped the ante a bit by attaching a small shield to the body and the breastplate. In this style the body takes the hit, not the hand and the shield.
Women let themselves get hit like that? When I nodded, he shook his head in genuine disbelieve. You too?
No, Im just the manager for the American team. I produce similar shows in US. Someone asked me to pull the team together, I accepted and here we are.
But you dont compete.
Not my thing. Ive done the equestrian games in the past. Theyre fun, but not my thing. My fian, I corrected myself, ex-fiancé will actually be riding my favorite mount.
Silence fell between us again and I looked back to the passing scenery. My thoughts traveled to Mal and my horse and with them, another series of worries. A few days prior to our departure Mal pushed his mount so hard that the animal stumbled and shattered his canon bone. The injury was so severe that the horse had to be euthanized. Mal blamed Bajirs injury on me and on the fight we had a few days earlier. Actually, he always blamed something on me. Knight was one of the alternate horses we were taking. He was also the only one that could hold Mals weight.
Ive always been good with horses. Riding, training came easily. Jess thought that the bond I formed with animals had something to do with magic. I wished to believe her, but I knew better. I got the skill from my father, that was all. He too had a special touch where it came to horses, though hawks were more his speed. He loved to hunt with them. As for me, I just loved animals. I trusted them on every level possible. Unlike humans they did not lie, were not devious. They trusted and gave. I gave back. I loved Knight more than anything. With Mal riding Knight now after what happened earlier today, I was scared that hed do something stupid to my horse.
Adara? I felt Demarions hand on mine again. He was moving his fingertips absentmindedly over my forearm watching me speculatively. The caress felt so good and relaxing it took all of my self-control not to give into it after the day I had. Youre miles away Dara
Dara, he called me Dara. It was about ten years since I heard anyone call me that. For some reason the gesture, warmed my heart. Yes, Im sorry. Its just that with what happened today, Im a little concerned about my horse. First thing tomorrow morning, I have to be at the stables. Can your driver take me?
Yes of course.
Thank you.
I turned my attention back to the beautiful scenery we were passing. You have an accent, Its faint, but its there
I was born in Hungary. I have estates there, but prefer the life here.
From what Ive seen of Paris I can see why youd make it your home. It is beautiful.
Have you been to France before?
No. And Ive not had much time to sight see either. I love to travel, but it has been a while since Ive had a chance to. Ive always been drawn to Europe, but beyond England, bit of Poland and Spain, Ive seen little of the continent. I wish I had more time to play, you know? Ive just realized that Ive been here four days and I still have not had a chance to see much of anything.
The look he gave me made me laugh. All right. We have to remedy this immediately. Let me know when I start boring you. I love playing tour guide.
He leaned closer to me and pointed at the imposing medieval palace that outstretched over the river. That fortress there is La Conciergerie. Built by Philippe the Fair it once served as a royal palace and a prison It is part of the larger complex known as the Palais de Justice, which is still used for judicial purposes. Among its more famous prisoners were Marie Antoinette, Charlotte Corday, Danton, and Chenie.
He paused for a moment, scanned the horizon then continued. If you have a chance you should tour Musée National du Moyen-Age Thermes de Cluny. He nodded at the beautiful Gothic building we were passing. It was built in 15th century and stands on the site of Roman baths, the remains of which can be toured. He pointed in between the buildings. The mansion contains a wide selection of medieval art, as well as a collection of original sculptures from the facade of Notre Dame.
Demarion was 100% absorbed with his role as a tour guide and I was equally captivated by his knowledge. As we continued driving he pointed out various other monuments, palaces, museums. He had broad knowledge and he fed off my excitement absolutely enthralled in his role as a guide.
I glimpsed at him a few times. He was absolutely immersed in what he was saying, eyes relaxed twinkling with excitement.
We drove like this for about an hour when the car stopped in front of large, gilded, wrought iron gates. A spectacular building outstretched beyond. Where the hell was I? Then the gates started to open and the car rolled forward. My attention turned to the grounds and then to the silhouette of an amazing summer castle. The sheer scale of the place took my breath away. The palace, as thats what I surmised we arrived at, was absolutely breathtaking. Ive learned something of architecture in recent years from a past client. This one reminded me of the blend of the Italian and the French themes so typical of the 1600s. The fanned design of the French château was morphed with an Italian star-shaped plan where the corresponding units were grouped round a central core. The palace was lit up by a hundreds of strategically positioned lights, each accentuating the different architectural plane of the building. I could make out intricate carvings in the dim light. The façade was adorned with sumptuous columns, sculptures, and plaster decorations. A great double wide staircase led to the lavish entrance. The whole place was sumptuous display of power and elegance, a summer castle fit for a king.
I did not realize my mouth was half open, gaping, until we pulled up to the front courtyard.
Demarion Virentso what is it that you do for a living? I finally managed.
He beamed me a proud, mischievous smile. Im a philanthropist. Come, lets situate you two inside. Tomorrow Ill give you a tour. With that he exited the limo. The palace doors opened as Demarion put his hand on the small of my back to guide me upstairs. A tall, silver haired, distinguished-looking butler dressed in black tuxedo tails stepped out. He exchanged a few words with Demarion in Hungarian who then with the driver proceeded to pull Jess out of the car. I watched as they carried the limp body of my friend up the stairs and disappeared inside. I was about to follow when something stopped me in my track. Magic.
Something to clarify I hated opening my mind to possibilities of touching the power. Depending on the amount or type of magic I was in contact with, it could make me violently sick. The amount of power that hit me now was staggering. It acted as a barrier to magic wielding beings. Its strength was something Ive never encountered before. I had to glimpse what was holding me back. I closed my eyes, and opened a small window to a very guarded part of my brain and channeled my energy. I entered the spirit plane and opened myself to the senses. Wards, intricately cast and tied together into a web that would snare and destroy its foe were layered one on top of another on the palace. The precision in which they were cast was incredible. They shimmered and glowed in my mind like droplets of dew in the morning sun. They were beautiful and of those I did recognize, just as deadly to intruders. I felt some of Jessica's magic intertwined in the pattern. Never to my knowledge did she give so much of her protection to anyone, safe for myself perhaps. Before I was surprised that she has never mentioned Demarion or this place before. This just heightened my unease. It was uncharacteristic of her to keep things from me. Her magic here only made things stranger.
Something else caught my attention and I looked deeper. This power shined with aura different from any I've seen cast before. Though most of the energy used was alien to me, something about the weave was faintly familiar. Instinctively, I knew it came from Demarion. It pulsated with more power than I've ever experienced in one place or from one man. His magic was brighter, casting almost a halo on the palace it protected. Then it stirred. I felt it surge in my direction as if examining me with the same interest I gave it. There was no hostility here, just simple curiosity. A thick luminescent strand of magic, like a breath of fire snakelike coiled around my waist, than one hand, than the other. A tip of it sprung to life in front of me. My eyes almost crossed as the strand moved closer and closer to my face. Then it touched my lips and in a caressing upward movement smoothed my cheek. The tip of the strand settled upon my brow. Here I felt the power pulse though me, though thankfully, I did not feel it invade my mind. Instinctively I knew that it was safe, that I would not be harmed. I dont know how I knew that, but I did.
But my mind rebelled against the caress with a pang, unwilling to accept the magic as deeply as it tried to express its assurance of safety. I turned my head slightly to the left where Demarion stood. I did not see his form at all, but a green ball of fire and light trapped in a human form. Ive seen auras of various creatures before but this was something different, something Ive never been in contact with, and yet, again it felt familiar even though it scared the hell out of me. I begun to withdraw. The sheer amount of energy and concentration it took to extract myself from the power brought on a bout of disorientation and a headache so severe I almost buckled to my knees. Demarion was by my side immediately. He caught me in an embrace, pulling me up and closer to him. Confused, stunned and scared of who or what he was I tried to pull away, but he only tightened his grip.
Please let go. I breathed eventually. He didnt obey instantly, just continued to hold me close as if I was a treasure he could not bear to part with. He searched my eyes, my face. I felt him touch my mind, but he withdrew without probing when he saw me raise my eyebrow in apprehension, even though every fiber of my being was trying to still me, to let myself go. The emotion was so intensely awkward to me, I did not know what to say to that, did not know how to respond and so I did the only thing I knew how to do well. I raised my shields against it. I looked inquisitively at him and finally decided to beak with protocol.
What the hell are you? I demanded pushing away as hard as I could. He finally let go and peered into my eyes. He was met by mistrust, suspicion, leeriness and again, fear. Demarion stiffened and straightened, his jaw tightened visibly and I could hear him grind his teeth. I decided taking a step was a good idea, but I wavered on my feet. Again he caught my hand to steady me. I slapped it away, but he did not let go. He was about so say something, but I cut him off.
"Don't. This place is a fortress. Why?"
"Protection."
"From what? The Devil himself ?"
"Something like that." Though eyes lost some of their warmth, I could see that he fought hard for control of his emotions. I sensed that he wanted to make a good impression and my fear of him, of what he was angered him. His words proved his sentiment. "Enough of this distrust, Adara. I've not done anything to earn it. You have already surmised that I'm a powerful man. And based on our conversation just moment ago, you know perfectly well of the thinkgs that can go boom in the night. In my position I have to take precautions. Jess has an exceptional skill at warding. You can ask her questions when she wakes. Now, Mivari has prepared a room for you next to Jessicas. The choice is yours: do you want to sleep on the steps of the house or shall we go inside?"
My options were slim. I was in the middle of nowhere, and it was way too cold to sleep outside. He extended his hand again and, resigned, I took it without another word and followed him over the threshold.
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The house was just as spectacular inside as its the façade promised from the outside. At the center of the main hall a beautiful French Baccarat crystal chandelier adorned the high vaulted ceiling. Shimmering blasts of colorful lights and shadows spilled everywhere. A grand hallway on the right led into a spacious lounge and then onto a magnificent dining room, both complete with fireplaces, high ceilings and more chandeliers. At the center a vast staircase adorned with a dark burgundy, plush carpet led up to the second and third floors. On the left, large hall doors closed the rest of the house from the view, but I was pretty sure that behind them more of the same splendor outstretched. Mosaic tiled floors richly added to the ambiance. Antique furniture, statues, spectacular paintings, heavy drapes and carpets provided a cozy and luxurious feeling.
