Stella Fitzsimons's Blog

Never trust a man prettier than you.   Mom’s serious advice, wrapped in a thin veil of humor, had echoed in my head since I was thirteen....

The Buffalo, the Witch and Ward row...

The battered sign hanging from a giant skeletal tree creaked in the howling wind. The words carved unevenly into the splintered green wood had chipped away at their edges but were still legible: TIME WASTED IS NO TIME AT ALL.

Just beyond the tree, a translucent boundary of wards guarded a wintery landscape. Red and yellow cottages spread across the land. Behind the homes, snow-covered fir trees led back to a frozen pond emanating an arctic mist. The Valkyries had claimed this enchanted piece of land in Lapland centuries ago and made it their home.

“Will Herja sense we’re here?” I said.

“Not likely,” Kirsi said. “She’s absorbed herself in a ritual of introspection for months. Her instincts have completely surrendered to a meditative state of consciousness.”

“Then how will we breach that enormous ward fence?”

Kirsi chuckled. “Nothing in life is easy. I’d be more worried about what lies behind it, to be honest.”

The cute Scandinavian style farmhouses and icy winter woods appeared as wholesome and safe as a Christmas card. Whatever danger it was that Kirsi alluded to was not visible to the naked eye.

Kirsi approached the fence, sword in hand.

I threw a side glance at Winter. “Any insight would be appreciated.”

He shrugged. “I’m not a Valkyrie whisperer.”

The fence flickered, changing colors multiple times as it did. I couldn’t latch onto the magic that propelled the wards. There was nothing familiar about their formation.

“Can you deactivate them, Kirsi?” Winter said.

“Herja was among the first Valkyries. I am no match for her powers.”

“Maybe if we all joined forces…” I suggested.

Kirsi shook her head. “That’s messy. It could take days to locate and defuse all her traps. Our best bet is that a few of her companions will feel the disturbance.”

“What disturbance?” I said.

And what companions for that matter?

Kirsi rammed her sword through the fence. The wards thundered and roared so loud we had to cover our ears. The sky above us turned dark purple. A viscous, black liquid spilled out of the fence like tar. I jumped back.

A huge and furry creature exploded through the fence. Standing at least seven feet tall at its shoulders and bearing thick, imposing horns, two camel-like humps and a furry midnight-blue hide that covered its entire body, including the eyes, it snorted as it came to a sudden halt.

The creature exhaled fire as its jaws snapped open revealing two rows of sharp yellow teeth.

I inhaled its foul scent as I tried to swallow.

The blue beast glided to us slowly like a giant buffalo-camel on wheels.

“Don’t hurt it,” Kirsi said.

The beast charged.

Don’t hurt it? Really? It’s about to gore us all to hell.

I swerved out of the beast’s way just in time, then planted myself in front of Winter to protect him.

He moved me aside and ran at the beast, locking his hands on its horns.

Oh shit.

I quickly formed a lasso of raw energy and hurled it at the beast, trapping its back legs. The beast’s body vibrated with energy of its own, quickly dissolving my energy lasso.

The beast snarled and knocked Winter back. Winter’s feet slid, his face straining, before he dug in and regained the upper hand.

Kirsi jumped on the beast’s back, grabbing the stringy mane.

Oh, yeah, I forgot. Both of them are idiots.

The beast shook Kirsi off its back and snorted. I reacted instinctively, pressing my hands together. A fountain of water spilled out, drenching the beast and extinguishing the fire pouring out of its nostrils before it hit Winter’s chest.

The beast wailed as if the water were hot oil.

Its tar-like discharge came to life spreading out on the ground in every direction like a burning moat. The beast retreated to the fence.

“Now!” Kirsi yelled out as a wedge opened in the ward fence to allow the creature reentry.

We dashed as one, then clutched to the beast’s fur to pull ourselves through the seam to the other side of the ward wall. I felt the surge of the wards on my skin as I slid through them, infused with a power both living and ancient—almost divine.

We hit the ground and tumbled onto our feet, sprinting in the direction of the first row of cottages. The cottages receded away from us, back toward the forest like a cruel mirage.

The blue beast charged after us, its heavy hoofs striking the ground with hellish thuds. I sensed the snow all around us puff up, forming shivering mounds like waves made of Jell-O.

Things drilled their way through the waves, springing to the surface. I focused on the moving farmhouses ahead. Whatever monstrosities Herja kept as pets, I didn’t want to know. My breath came out in clumps of steam that froze immediately.

“Herja!” Kirsi shouted. “This is urgent!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blood red snake uncoil to a length of thirty, forty feet, painting the snow a deep crimson as it slithered our way.

Holy hell, Kirsi’s warning was an understatement. Herja didn’t play.

The cottages stopped moving. The front door in one of them swung open. A magical shower of cotton threads rained down on the house like dispersed dandelion seeds, shrouding it in a soft white light, a stark contrast to the mess of fangs and horns all around us.

Herja stepped outside. Tall, imposing, with auburn hair pulled up into a ponytail and a strong, toned body with centuries of murderous muscle memory, Herja had that otherworldly feel about her that only the fiercest of ancients possessed.

“There better be dire cause for all this fuss, sister,” Herja said.

“This wouldn’t happen if you shared a key with one of your sisters.”

Herja frowned. “This is my solitary retreat, not a social salon for bored and gossiping Valkyries.”

Kirsi sighed. “Believe me, if there was another way…”

Herja glanced at Winter and me. “And them? Why did you have to bring your whole caravan?”

“I didn’t want to die alone. They make good chew toys for your beasts.”

Not funny, Kirs. (Okay, maybe a smidge.)

Herja huffed. “I suppose I have to invite you in.”

Everything went quiet. The creatures vanished back into the snow, all except for the humped blue buffalo who keeled over and began snoring.

Nice trick.

We followed Herja inside to a cozy living room with flower pattern wallpaper, a vaulted ceiling and a crackling fireplace in a corner.

Herja’s eyebrows came together. “So… what mischief is afoot?”

“Our enclave was ransacked,” Kirsi said.

Herja didn’t miss a beat. “Your council’s seal?”

Kirsi nodded. “Most likely.”

“I recall warning you not to get involved,” Herja said.

Kirsi bowed her head. “If I had refused, the task would have fallen on some other magistrate. I trust no one more than us.”

I sat down gently on the couch, trying to avoid drawing attention. Herja intimidated me. Winter stood by the fireplace. His eyes locked onto mine, clearly regretting the decision to come along.

“Now’s not a good time,” Herja said, almost as if talking to herself. “I’m not finished here.”

“We need you, Herja,” Kirsi said. “You are our greatest strategist.”

Herja paced the room. “You couldn’t have come to me with news of a wedding or a rare Loki sighting. No, my sisters always bring news of war.”

“Isn’t war what Valkyries do best?” I said, instantly regretting it.

Winter quickly glanced out the window.

Coward.

Herja’s inquisitive eyes landed on me. “We are more than moths to the flame, barely born witch,” she said. “War comes in with the tide, wave after wave. We merely have the courage to face it.” She paused for a moment. “I know of a place where the seal can be protected.”

“What place?” I said, not really expecting an answer.

“Curiosity can be molten metal, Luna Mae. Once cooled, you might find yourself chained to a heavy burden.”

Well, when you put it that way.

“Normally, I shouldn’t know where the seventh council seal is kept, but these are desperate times,” I said.

Herja studied me. “Desperation never validates. Prophecies are not etched in stone. All things are fluid, adaptable. But when one succumbs to things foretold, destinies harden—free will loses its grip—and, only then, does it become impossible to veer away from the predicted path.”

So Herja knew about Horror and me. I understood her intention. Horror wanted the seal. If I stood in his way, the first step in the prophesied rift between us would transform from a possibility into a fact.

Herja’s stare intensified. “Once you know, you know,” she went on. “You will have to fight for the seal with your life. Are you ready for that battle?”

“I’m never ready for battle, but when there is no choice…”

Winter walked to me. “There is always choice, I agree with Herja.”

I shrugged. “You’re both protecting me. I don’t need it.”

Herja grinned for the first time. “I had heard that you are as brave as you are naïve. Did witch school ever teach you of Ideon Andron?”

I nodded. “Not witch school. San Diego State. Ideon Andron is a cave on the highest mountain in Crete where Zeus was raised according to the myth.”

“It is no more a myth than any of us. Zeus’s mother, Rhea, hid him in the cave to protect him from his father, Cronus. A group of demons shielded Zeus so Cronus would not sense him. Lucky for us, those very same demons owe me a favor.”

I stared at her, not sure how to respond. In a single sentence she had informed me that the story of Zeus was based on real events and that she hung out with demons.

“I thought the Ideon cave was off limits,” Kirsi said. “Didn’t the Great Eternal Magistrate himself block all entrances?”

“He did after the Fire Giants tried to take residence in the cave. The Eternal Magistrate could not allow them access to such potent enchantment. That’s where the favor owed comes in,” Herja said.

“And should we really be consorting with demons when so much is at stake?” Winter said. “In case you’ve forgotten, a demon’s favorite past time is manipulation.”

Herja’s face slipped into a stoic state. “I forget nothing. That’s why I meditate. It becomes unbearable. You must trust me on this, Shadow Winter. We are to fight fire with fire. Unless you lot have a single other idea.”

Winter looked to Kirsi. “It’s your head, and ultimately your call.”

Kirsi looked like she wanted to bury her head. “I trust Herja’s mind over any other. Let’s do it. Whatever keeps the seal from Horror.”

“I’m finally getting my trip to Greece,” I said. “I was thinking more bikinis and martinis than demons and caves, however.”

Herja slipped on a black cloak, pulling the hood over her hair. “Let Kirsi and me deal with that.” She stopped in front of me. “The seal was not your secret, and it is not your fight, but now you must stay the course. Killing your father won’t be easy, but your deciding to kill him may prove even harder.”

Herja’s words dizzied me, but I managed to steady myself. “Perhaps, but compared to letting the world fall, it won’t be hard at all.”

Kirsi clucked. “Sometimes it’s good to be an orphan.”

© 2022 Stella Fitzsimons. AllRightsReserved

On my way to the coffee shop, I came upon a goose family about to cross a busy street and the incredible thing was... THEY KNEW WHAT THEY WERE DOING.

I stayed long enough to make sure they’d cross safely and saw how they stopped once they reached the divider and waited for the traffic to stop before they continued.

I’m happy to report, the family crossed safely and went for a swim in the pond on the other

side of the road.

https://youtu.be/5kkN_-g8AIo

With that out of the way, here's a poll for you. If I was to write a free novelette about any Mist Riders character other than Luna, who would you like that character to be? (If you don't see your pick in the choices, leave a comment!)

Water works...

“Impossible,” I told Winter. “There’s no chance I can extract drinking water from my own cell energy. That’s not a thing. Stop messing.”

He pulled my back against his chest as we lay in bed. “It most certainly is a thing,” he insisted. “And I promise I’m not messing with you. You only need to have a little faith.”

Right.

He took my hands. “Good,” he said. “Keep your hands sealed, just like this, and let your core latch onto the humidity in the air.”

I squeezed my hands together. Nothing. I sighed. “You’re not funny.”

He turned my head to peer into my eyes. “The trick is to bypass the outward energy burst, then force moisture to your skin. Mix that with a hyper fluid elemental source and… Shazam! You’ll have water. It will literally flow from your fingers.”

“Have you ever done this?”

Darkness crept up his face. “It’s a mist rider thing.”

“So, if I’m getting this right, if I am ever stuck in a desert, I’ll just be able to suck my thumb, like this, and I’ll never go thirsty.”

I winked.

“Stop that,” he said, swallowing hard. “You’ll need some elemental source, even if it is only a few drops of morning dew, or the last drops of water in a flask, but basically, in theory, yes.”

I laughed. “Sometimes you’re all theories and no fun.”

He reached under the sheets to attack my midsection with his fingers.

“Stop,” I protested as I squirmed away. “You know I hate tickling.”

“Then don’t be a brat.”

Uh, no. It’s too fun being a brat.

We kissed. I never wanted this simple, sensual state of happiness to end. And I never wanted to put clothes on again. For three days, we’d stayed in bed, ordering food delivery, catnapping and making love.

“How much longer do we have?” I said.

Winter shrugged. “Not long. I can try to prolong my mortality if that’s what you want.”

Yes, please! Mortal Winter was the most fun.

“I’ll take as much as you can give,” I said, hopeful.

A mischievous light played in his eyes.

“All men have the same mind,” I said, maybe blushing a little.

He squeezed my hands again, pushing my palms flush together. Water sprayed from my fingers like a tiny fountain, then stopped abruptly.

Holy fu--!

The doorbell rang.

Winter furrowed his brow. “Kirsi.”

I slipped into loose shorts and a t-shirt and headed for the door. Kirsi’s grim expression warned of bad news.

She looked over my apartment. “It’s great that you guys are getting it on like rabbits, but maybe check your phones every now and again.”

My eyes darted to my phone on the floor. Dead. I’d figured the world could take a backseat for once.

“What manner of mayhem do you bring to us?” Winter said, pulling on an Aztec t-shirt I bought him at the bookstore.

“The Society of Immortal Sisterhood is under attack,” she said. “Our central enclave was ransacked last night. We fear our coffeehouses could be next.”

The sisterhood ran several bookstore coffeehouses around the world.

Winter raised an eyebrow. “Who? And for what possible reason?”

Kirsi hesitated. “It’s just a hunch, but we think maybe it’s a necromantic sect coming after the Seventh Council Seal.”

Necromancers? If Horror was behind this, I swear, I’d skin him alive.

Kirsi was the official guard of the seal, but she didn’t exactly carry it in her purse. Last time I checked, the seal was safely tucked away in the magistrate court vaults along with other potentially hazardous magical artifacts.

“Why would they think the seal would be with the Sisterhood?”

Winter looked away. He knew something and hadn’t bothered to share it with me. What else is new?

Kirsi exhaled noisily. “Düsternis asked me to hide the seal.”

“Wait, the Grand Magistrate asked you to remove the seal from the court? There’s no way that’s allowed. It makes no sense.”

The magic of the seal was instrumental in safeguarding the council from supernatural intruders and augmenting the council’s access to powerful ley line energy. Removing it from the grounds would make the magistrates more vulnerable. Every council and every order in the magic realm had at least one seal bonded to them, some more powerful than others. The Seventh Council Seal was one of the most powerful.

Kirsi struggled to get the next words out. “Düsternis added cyphers written in the Eternal language to the script at the core of the seal. When spoken, they can banish Eternals.”

Wow. I had no words. “Again, that can’t be sanctioned.”

“Of course not,” Kirsi said. “The council thought it a necessary contingency to put in place in case Horror came for us. But if the Eternals were to find out their archaic symbology was being used as a weapon by the council, the consequences would be dire.”

Yeah, Eternals would see this as a provocation. No doubt about that. They were a faction of hyper charged sourpusses who hated sharing. A rift between Eternals and the Seventh Council would lay waste to half the magic world.

I struggled to comprehend. “So, the seal is with the Sisterhood?”

“No.”

“Where then?”

Winter sneered. “She won’t tell you. She can’t. She must guard that secret with her life.”

I glared at him. “You better shut it. I can see you’re clearly keeping a closet full of secrets from me yourself. I’ll deal with you later.”

Kirsi was amused until she received my glare.

“Are you entirely sure the seal is safe wherever you’ve hidden it?” I said.

“It is, but all bets are off if an Eternal goes after it.”

Shit. “And what if it’s Horror himself?”

Their silence confirmed what I already knew in my gut. Horror was suspect number one. So much for stepping back and giving me space.

What are you up to now, Daddy from hell?

I asked the obvious. “And we think he’ll use it to banish any Eternal who might wish to stand in his way?”

Kirsi shrugged. “Who knows what’s in a maniac’s mind? He might want access to the exact combination of the banishing symbols, or he might want to protect himself from Düsternis, or use the seal for some still darker purpose. There’s no way to know what shade of crazy he desires.”

“Either way, we’re fucked.”

They both regarded me with blank expressions.

“Sneaky bastard,” I said. “It explains why I couldn’t connect to his essence or locate him when I tried the other day. He’s locked me out.”

“The only thing we can do now is defend the Sisters and our coffeehouses,” Kirsi said. “It won’t be easy.”

“Count us in,” Winter said.

Kirsi arched an eyebrow. “In your condition? I don’t think so.”

“Kirsi, I might not be a magistrate anymore, but I’m still your friend.”

“Yeah, an all too mortal friend.”

“Mortal or not, I have access to a significant amount of power, not to mention I can still kick ass with my good old bare hands.”

Kirsi hardened. “I will not be responsible for your death.”

She was right. He was the strongest man I knew, but being mortal made him forever vulnerable. All mortals hung by a thread, but most of them didn’t have deathless gods as enemies. Powerful entities were lined up to vanquish him. Everything was fine and dandy as long as we hid out in our little love nest, but the moment he stepped outside it, he’d be in perpetual peril. Hell, he could even die in a car crash or slip on wet pavement.

I cupped his shoulder. “Switch back. Reboot your immortality.”

“That’s not how it works. My core isn’t there yet.”

“That settles it,” Kirsi said.

Winter looked pissed. “Does it?”

“Yes, you thick-brained man,” she said. “You’re sitting this one out.”

Winter’s eyes flashed with frustration, but he said nothing.

“Are you going back to the coffee shop?” I asked Kirsi.

“No, I’m off to alert Herja.”

Herja was co-founder of the Sisterhood, along with Sigrún, and she was among the high order of Valkyries who possessed the rarest supernatural powers. The Sisters trusted her, even deferred to her. When Ölrún died in the Nightwood battle against Horror’s necromantic forces, Herja had blamed herself. Soon afterwards, she retreated to her land in the old Valkyrie realm to cleanse her aura and mourn the passing of a beloved friend.

“I thought maybe you’d go with me, Luna,” Kirsi continued. “Herja is unreachable by design. We’ll need all the magic we can muster to penetrate her wards and subdue her pets.”

Uh… pets? What now?

Winter stood with a pained grimace.

Kirsi blinked. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I am her shadow and therefore am forever by her side,” he said.

“You may be her shadow, but you’re not now a Shadow Warrior.”

“Come on, Kirs,” I said, “at least give it up for his play on words. If we’re just going to Herja’s fortified dwelling, there’s no harm in bringing along a little arm candy.”

Kirsi hissed. “Okay, that’s gross. The only lovesick dove I want to see is one roasting on the tip of my spear. And if you think no harm can come from breaking into Herja’s retreat, you still have much to learn, mist rider.”

© 2022 Stella Fitzsimons. AllRightsReserved

So maybe you thought that living in a canyon in southern California can’t be all that exhilarating. Well, not so fast.

I took the cat out for a walk yesterday (yes, you read that right, I walk my cat every morning around the neighborhood) and he was doing his usual why don’t I hide behind those bushes waiting for some lizard to show up shtick and then a door opens and a neighbor comes out.

“I should warn you,” he tells me. “There was this big animal prowling on the trail behind the houses last night.”

“What big animal?” I ask.

My neighbor shrugs. “I don’t know. It looked like a very big cat. A mountain lion maybe.”

“You mean a bobcat?”

"What's the difference?"

Big, big difference.

I quickly google bobcat on my phone and show him a picture.

“That could be it,” my neighbor says. “There’s a bobcat in the neighborhood. Keep the kitty safe. We should call animal control.”

Another door opens and another neighbor comes out to greet us. “That was no bobcat,” she says. “It was a coyote.”

Neighbor #1: "I think I know what I saw."

Neighbor #2: "How could you? It was pitch dark."

A conversation ensued about checking out tracks and claw marks. I picked up the cat, made a silly excuse about making breakfast for the kids (neither kid was in the house) and waved goodbye.

Revenge is best served wet

I STARED AT THE ANNOUNCEMENT pinned on the wall. Apparently, Cyrus had scheduled our wedding for September 5th, just two weeks from now, without bothering to tell me. Classic toxic alpha-male power move. I’d been waiting for something like this since our colossal fight last week when he ordered his goons to move my things to his room—a posh and pompous suite fit for a royal couple. After I put a quick end to that battle, I knew Cyrus would go about finding some feeble method of exacting his revenge.

To be fair, his haste to tie the knot was probably part of a bigger effort to have me stay put in his tacky shifter compound instead of roaming off every chance I got. He must have thought that being my husband would give him some additional leverage to… I don’t know, have me redecorate the entire Keep, or participate in the endless uber boring pack council meetings, or maybe take up origami or some other docile bullshit.

I’d grown bolder as the weeks went by. I left the Keep almost daily to meet up with Kirsi or Lily or Faion—sometimes all three of them. It drove Cyrus crazy. It drove Darius crazy, too, when Cyrus informed him during one of his weekly reports. At least twice, the Persian King of Kings had chewed me out for taking unnecessary risks.

I shrugged it all off. I knew what they didn’t. Horror wasn't going to pop up out of nowhere to wipe me out. He needed me very much alive. He had beheaded Cerber just for trying to hurt me and had eagerly offered to kill Darius as well. And making me his captive would ruin his grand design. Horror intended to lure me to him, so I would willingly become his right hand and openly offer up my mist rider powers to aid in his absolute dominion over all realms.

My gut told me as long as I let Horror believe there was a chance I’d join forces with him, he’d let me be, at least for a while. And for someone as old as Horror, a while could very well mean decades.

I turned around, sensing someone watching. Cyrus stood right behind me, staring intensely. His skin glistened with a post-workout sheen.

“Dude,” I said, “why you got to be a creeper? And what’s the meaning of this?” I pointed at the bulletin board. “I told you, I need at least one year of…” I searched for a word for this charade. “Betrothal.”

He grunted. “You need a whole year to wiggle out of our agreement?”

I waved him off and stepped away.

I could smell what he ate. Something raw.

He liked to shift into a huge black panther at dawn and hunt in the pack’s private woods.

“Your non-response concedes the point,” he said, licking his lips.

“Men and their imaginary scores,” I said, losing interest.

“It’s that very agreement that allows your mentor’s recuperation to proceed unhindered.”

I bit my tongue. I had improved at holding back, never letting anyone know what fevered thoughts raced through my head. The truth was I would do anything to keep Winter safe, even getting hitched to a megalomaniac.

“The pride of a blackmailer,” I said.

Cyrus gritted his teeth. “Let’s not argue in front of pack members.”

“Why? Wouldn’t arguing be the best way to pose as a real couple?”

A storm brewed behind his eyes. He motioned me to follow him up three flights of stairs. That wasn’t a good sign. His business office was up there, and he hated being in that office. There was something he had to tell me and whenever he had to tell me something, it usually sucked.

His receptionist, a slightly built man for a wolf shifter, stood at attention as we approached.

“My alpha, the Chicago pack’s been calling all morning—”

Cyrus cut him off with a dry, “Not now.”

We entered his large, open office. It was all mahogany and velvet with arched windows overlooking a duck pond, and a case of expensive Habana cigars sitting on the heavy desk. Cyrus kicked the door shut.

I jumped straight to offense. “It’s fucking bullshit, Cyrus. It’s not enough that you took me from my life and forced me to stay in your putrid velvet Xanadu, you also want to monitor my every move and keep me on property all time? Is this some sick form of revenge?”

He glared at me. “Revenge is the wet dream of weaklings. Nothing will change between us after the wedding. Our communication will remain limited to these occasional trading of barbs if that’s what you wish. My focus is on the meeting of the five biggest packs in the country at the end of September. There’s pressure to realign the territories. I want to negotiate from a position of maximum strength.”

“So what? You’re going to aim your Lunar witch wife at them like a loaded gun and make them give you what you want or we’ll blow their castles down? That sounds lovely until they enlist their top assassins to take me out.”

His voice was dry, emotionless. “Let them try.”

“What? Let them try? Really? You’re not even going to try to lie? Huh,” I said. “Maybe I should be grateful you’re not hiding the fact that of course, they’re going to try to kill me! They’re fucking shifter alphas, Cyrus.”

“You’re a Lunar witch. You’re going to be hunted regardless of your circumstances. We might as well offset that risk with a reward.”

“Offset this,” I said while showing him a middle finger.

Not my best moment. Maturity is not a fixed state.

“You need to grow up,” he said. “Life’s not an Instagram page. It’s not all moral certainties and scented candles. In the real world, shit gets messy.”

“You’re telling me that shit gets messy?” I was stunned. “The same girl who, literally, you and Darius... you know what? Fuck you!”

We had become more than accustomed to these fights. We simmered quietly for a while to let the rage level off.

“Your safety is a priority,” he said as some sort of olive branch.

“Right,” I said. “I guess that means your security team has been shadowing my every move in and out of the compound. If only you had respected me enough to tell me that.”

“I respected you enough that I believed I didn’t have to, Sophie. And if you somehow didn’t realize you were being followed, that would mean you are clueless enough to need protection.”

“Gee, that didn’t sound like respect,” I said, stating the obvious.

He sighed. “You make me crazy. I actually have a plan and this whole scenario is a pain in my ass as well. I don’t have bedside manners, but I’m doing right by you. Trust that.”

“Trust is the favorite word of the duplicitous.”

He held his eyes closed a long time, biting his lip. “Horror is on the loose and keen on eliminating all competition,” he finally said. “Which, I’m not sure why, but Darius thinks you’re potentially Horror’s nemesis. I promised Darius that you would remain in one piece. I plan on being true to my word.”

The bastard sounded sincere. My mind started churning to come up with more stalling tactics to delay the wedding.

“The wedding’s happening, Sophie. I suggest you let your people know and be convincing while you’re doing it.”

Someone, please, kill me now.

My phone buzzed. Thank God!

It was a text from Kirsi. She never texted. Her brief need to talk message convinced me it was urgent.

I flashed my eyes at Cyrus. “I need to take this. We should both try to be a little more civil to each other.”

He shrugged. “Fine.”

I hurried up the stairs and texted Kirsi back from my room.

“Me too. Need yr stealth skills. Meet outside the gate in 1 hr.”

© 2021 Stella Fitzsimons. AllRightsReserved

Viral Sensation

,

THE SUMMER TWILIGHT in Stockholm never gave way to night. I closed my eyes to enjoy the cool ocean breeze and imagine the energy darkness would bring to the city. We were on the wine bar patio of the NOFO Hotel. My eyes re-opened to the midnight sun and glimpses of the Church of Katarina that peeked across at us through the trees of its cemetery.

Elsa raised her glass of ice wine. “Another semester bites the dust, my little droogs. Just two more to snuff out and then bliss!”

Göran grinned. “And three cheers to no more of Professor Lundberg’s deathly-long lectures.”

“Hell, yes,” I said as our glasses clinked together. “Skål!”

Elsa batted her long eyelashes, laughing the way I imagined old-time movie stars laughed. She had a face full of the restrained certainty I noticed in women whose lives have always gone just as planned. “Tell us, Sophie, my delicious crumpet, will you stay with us for some lovely summer debauchery or will you limp back to your kingdom of cheeseburgers and bankruptcies?”

Göran put down his Lager, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I hereby solemnly declare you must stay. We’ll go camping up in Lapland, get stoned in a place where you can truly see the sun at midnight. We might even venture over and troll the Fins during their midsummer celebration.”

“Yes,” Elsa agreed. “Like Vikings.”

I shrugged. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the idea, but firm plans never seemed to work out for me. I had successfully completed the first semester of my master’s degree in Ethnology at the University of Stockholm. I wanted to celebrate that. There had been a dozen times when I thought it wouldn’t happen. I wanted to be in the now, a now completely of my own choosing.

My head spun a little with the liquor and the realization it had only been ten months since I had received my acceptance letter. In that time, my extracurriculars included discovering I was a mist rider, the rarest of all breeds, a legend nearly forgotten, the oldest of all human forms.

In antiquity, it was believed only one was born every five centuries, but when none had surfaced for the past thousand years, the prevailing thought became that the era of the mist riders had come to an end when the last one had abdicated in favor of a mortal life.

Despite my initial shock, I had learnt to use ley lines both for drawing energy and kinetically, my body had figured out how to regenerate, and I had traveled all the way to the forbidden Sacred Vault in arctic Alaska to annihilate an undead army of dwarves and troglodytes and break ancient Eternal wards.

I mean, I couldn’t even fit it all on a postcard.

There was the whole bit about having a sibling, who was not merely Immortal and deranged, but also the Lord of the Black Demon Hounds—the most feared supernatural army the magic world had ever known.

What else? Deadly skirmishes with soul swallowers and dust monsters and, through sheer recklessness and blind luck, I had somehow killed a being who could not be killed.

I had also come dangerously close to losing my heart to a man who crashed into my life as a colossal opposing force and turned everything upside down, a dangerous Immortal Magistrate and Shadow Warrior, a man who possessed insurmountable power and about whom I knew very little—all bad news.

And maybe I was already, you know, a wee bit in love but being with him was quite impossible. Our energy cores and etheric essences were so unique and potent that physically bonding with him was out of the question unless I wanted to announce to all magic kind that I possessed the rarest, most powerful morning magic, a fact that would entice legions of assassins and heinous monsters and, I don’t know, colossal ancient sea turtles.

I had tried to convince myself we could be together in a platonic sort of way, but we were borne ceaselessly towards each other’s light like moths. We would destroy each other and, likely, put the entire world in jeopardy. Horror would one day find a way to break free. I needed to lie low. I needed to grow stronger.

“I’m not convinced,” I offered my college friends. “What else you got?”

“Oh, we have plenty,” Elsa said. “Where should I begin?”

She kept talking, but I only half listened. An electric current tingled my fingers and toes, making me shiver. An unmistakable sign of raw supernatural power rushed through the vicinity.

I took in a few quick breaths. I hadn’t sensed magic or the faintest sign of an etheric essence around me since I returned to Sweden two months ago to complete the semester. Winter had kept his promise and had pulled my Immortal watchers. Stockholm was not a hub for the supernatural. The few that called the city their home resided in the northeastern island-suburb of Lidingö near the region’s only portal to the Deep Down.

Across the street, above the trees, a murky silhouette stood on top the Katarina Church bell tower, glimmering in the silvery twilight. In a blink, the figure leapt onto a lower cupola, then onto a balcony and vanished from sight.

My breath caught in my throat.

I heard Elsa’s voice from far away. “It’ll simply be divine.”

“Sophie,” Göran said. “Earth calling. Hello?”

What are they even talking about?

“I’m here, sorry, I…”

My friends took on a look of concern.

I rose from my seat. “I need the restroom.”

Elsa quickly followed. “I’ll join you.”

I stopped cold in my tracks. “No need, Elsa, I’m suddenly vanquished. I think I’ll head back to the dorms to crash out.”

“Okay,” Elsa said, “but I actually have to go to the bathroom.”

I gave her a quick hug before she walked off.

Göran raised a scolding eyebrow at me. “It’s not even midnight, Cinderella. Stay for a night cap.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night,” I said, squeezing his shoulder.

I knew I had disappointed them both, but it couldn’t be avoided. I dashed out into the street. Instead of heading the other way like a sensible person, I crossed the cemetery grounds to the sublime Church of Katarina and its elaborate baroque architecture. I strained my neck to look up to the tower where the figure had appeared out of thin air moments ago.

A whiff of magical essence teased my nostrils, making me sneeze. The cemetery, which was opened for the victims of the Stockholm Bloodbath in 1520 after the Danish King Christian II executed a whole slew of Swedish nobles, stretched all around the church.

Following the magic, I scurried around headstones and green leafed oaks and birch trees until I came onto a narrow cobblestone alley between two burgundy brick buildings. On the far end, the alley became plank steps that descended all the way down to the ocean.

The sky above my head darkened with heavy clouds spreading out like the wings of gigantic vultures. A viscous, shadowy presence slid down the walls, carrying a cold mist onto the ground and my shoes. The dim moon greeted me with silver energy. I drank it up as fast as possible.

Inhaling, I shuffled my feet along the alley to get to the water, the tingling in my hands spreading to my core as I moved closer. The increasing certainty that I was being followed began to feel like an Immortal etheric essence.

Something rustled ahead, the sound rippled through the ground and the walls around me. I focused internally, steadying my energy for battle.

A shape glided out of the dark at the end of the alley to block my way, engulfed in a shimmering electric blue aura. Something familiar, yet unknown. It called to my core as if it had known me since before I was born.

“Hello, Luna Mae of Astoria, she who was born of mist,” Winter said, grinning from ear to ear. “I hoped you would notice me.”

“Yeah, I saw your Parkour theatrics,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Nice gothic backdrop. You should make YouTube videos. You could be a whole vibe.”

He smiled, knowing full well what that did to me.

© 2021 Stella Fitzsimons. AllRightsReserved

Mist Riders #4

,

A LOT OF PEOPLE HAVE ASKED me about the publication date for Shadow Fall. The book is now available for preorder and if all goes well, I'm aiming for a late October release.

Cover reveal will follow shortly!

Book Description:

Running from the biggest threat she’s ever faced, Luna has no option but to seek shelter in the darkest chambers of the Umbra Order.

Only problem is, the secrets she will uncover there might be far more lethal than the ancient enemy she’s trying to escape.

Preorder here:

Amazon.com

Amazon UK

All other Amazon sites

Mist Riders #4

,

A LOT OF PEOPLE HAVE ASKED me about the publication date for Shadow Fall. The book is now available for pre-order and will be released in April.

Book Description:

Running from the biggest threat she’s ever faced, Luna has no option but to seek shelter in the darkest chambers of the Umbra Order.

Only problem is, the secrets she will uncover there might be far more lethal than the ancient enemy she’s trying to escape.

Pre-order here:

Amazon.com

Amazon UK

All other Amazon sites

Apple

Kobo

B&N

Google Play

Elegy for a Wind Mage

,

WINTER SPRANG to his feet as soon as he saw me, his six-foot-two frame looming over me. He was rather disheveled with his loose gray sweats, fitted black tank top, sweat-glistened biceps and messy blond hair. Apparently, he had been hitting the gym often and I doubted it had anything to do with physical conditioning. No, Winter was trying to work through stress and tension.

I shoved him aside to get to the door. He uniquely triggered my most primitive, immature responses.

“Is this how it’s going to be now?” I said without looking at him. “You’re just going to pop by uninvited?”

His warm breath on the back of my neck sent a shiver through me.

“When I call, you don’t answer,” he said. “So, I stopped calling.”

“I’m not a prisoner to my phone like everybody else.”

I unlocked the door, stepped inside and started to close it behind me.

I laughed when he wedged his foot between the door and the frame. I let go of the door and let him follow me inside.

“This is urgent,” he said, darting his eyes about the place.

“Isn’t it always? That’s like the stalker’s creed. The concept of boundaries means nothing.”

He placed his hands on my shoulders and spun me around until we came face to face. “The attacks have escalated. There have been five assaults in the past twenty-four hours. Five, Luna!”

The concern on my face must have been obvious because he released my shoulders and softened his approach. “There’s something else.”

I felt my heartbeat surging. “What else?”

“A death,” he said. “The first.”

“What? Who, Jonas?”

“A wind mage slipped away after three days in a delirious state.”

I buried my face in my hands. “Oh, the poor soul. Listen, you’re not chasing me back to Europe. I’m staying.”

He fought the urge to respond but, instead, exhaled forcefully. “This is going to spread from the basic world. I believe all this is a test of power and the real target will be the Deep Down.”

“If you had told me sooner, I might have been able to do something. Your spies in Stockholm could have told me any day.”

“Let’s keep it in the present,” he said.

“Fine, the present,” I said, losing my patience. “Tell me exactly what happens during and after one of these attacks.”

He walked to the window. “The victims are isolated. They probably feel a tingling sensation like their limbs are falling asleep and then they are paralyzed in place. If they’re standing, they do not fall. It’s painful and feels like the pain lasts for an hour, but it’s over in a matter of seconds.”

“With unresponsive victims,” I said, trying to understand, “how do you know such details? Was there a witness?”

“Not that I know of,” he said.

“Okay, then a seer must have been brought in?”

“No. I mean, yeah, I’ve been told that in some cases seers were brought in, but they saw nothing. There’s a total lockdown of the victim’s consciousness.”

“Then what? This is a theory you pulled from where? Your ass?”

He turned and shook his head. “Is that how a lady should talk?”

“In this world? Yes.”

He sighed and stared into my eyes. “There are a few cryptic references in surviving archives mentioning similar events almost 5500 years ago during the Neolithic decline.”

My jaw dropped. “And you just jumped from there to this thing six millennia later without hesitation? Have you ever heard of scholarly method? Because your proof is so damn anecdotal and useless. And, besides, the Neolithic decline was about a huge drop in human population, not a few catatonic magical beings.”

“It’s just a theory,” he said.

“No, it’s really not,” I said. “Alright, forget that, what happens to these victims after the attacks?”

“They lose their ability to access magical energy from anywhere and become comatose. Out of twenty-four known cases, twenty-three have remained in the exact state in which they were found. The wind mage took a turn and was gone within ten minutes. The only clue we have is the fine silver dust that hangs in the air at the scenes of the attacks. The dust is toxic to anyone who uses magic. For this reason, the Seventh Council has decided not to get directly involved. Officially, we’re monitoring the situation from a distance.”

“Ah, convenient isolationists,” I said, not one bit surprised.

“Immortals are not the most altruistic beings.”

“That’s an understatement,” I said. “You guys are like supercharged survivalist nut bags.”

“I’ll assume that’s not a compliment,” he said. “And I agree, it’s a mistake. This silver dust is potent enough to affect Immortals, to a lesser extent. I felt its power while at a scene. It was a nagging force, scratching at my etheric essence. I did manage with some effort to block it.”

“I know where this is headed. I told you I’m not leaving.”

He hesitated. “Okay.”

Huh?

“Did you just say, okay?”

He nodded. “I wish there was another way. I need your help, Luna. We need to act fast. This will spread if we don’t neutralize the attacking force before they grow too strong. We don’t know much about silver dust, but I doubt it has anticipated the rare morning magic of the mist riders. Your growing command of mist craft and earth energy could be our secret weapon.”

I picked up a couch cushion and held it to my chest. The Deep Down Board of Supernatural Orders had been fearful of this kind of scenario ever since I could remember—an invisible plague, an airborne menace that would attack our essence and our power centers, which are intimately connected to our consciousness. Our subterranean world hadn’t faced such a malignant threat in over a century.

I gave Winter a weary stare. “And you told the magistrates what you’ve told me?”

“Of course. It didn’t matter. They’re keeping a watchful eye. That’s it.”

“How has the Deep Down responded to the crisis?”

Winter shrugged. “Don’t know. I’m persona non grata in your magic realm, I’m afraid. I might have reached out to Iris, but you’re here.”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her.” I held the cushion and yelled into it before tossing it back onto the couch. “I’m so sick of evil idiots.”

Faion was obviously clueless of the attacks when we spoke. The silver dust threat must have been kept classified in order to avoid panic.

“In every era, the final dance partners are always good and evil,” Winter said.

I rubbed my temples. “Do we have any of this dust?”

“One small vile in my lab, completely shielded. It’s toxic to all magic users, Luna. It sucks up etheric energy like a fusion reactor. Get too close to it, and the effect is almost certainly irreversible. Basics seem to be unaffected as their essence is so primitive and impotent.”

A supernatural dust that robbed witches, mages, diviners and all other wielders of magic of their very essence before it killed them. What malevolent bastard could even think something like that up?

One name comes to mind.

“Düsternis,” I said. “Don’t know why, but his name just popped into my head. That would explain why the Seventh Council is staying out of it… because they’re behind the whole damn thing.”

Winter pushed back his sweaty hair. “No. It’s not him.”

“You just rule him out without a doubt? I see. Blind faith. He’s the leader of your cult and all that. He’s given up on you, but you haven’t given up on him. Is that how it is? Really? You know what, true believer? He probably has his best boy Argos out dispersing Shaervas with cannisters of the evil dust to drop off at every Deep Down portal as we speak.”

The thought of Shaervas made my skin crawl. The ancient ice snakes were instruments for clandestine witchcraft that could adulterate magic sources, infusing them with dark energy. Argos had tried to use them before to infiltrate the Deep Down, on Düsternis’ orders, but Chaos had put an end to that plan.

Winter paced the room. “That’s cute, but I’m not drinking the Immortal Kool-Aid. I told you, the dust is not impartial to my kind. The only reason I can shield my etheric essence is the resistance and discipline training only the Umbra Order practices. Most Immortals don’t have that ability.”

Shadow Warriors were the most skillful controllers of elemental magic and ley line energy among Immortals. They were also quicker to violence and could kill other Immortals by dragging out their essence. From the handful of apprentices who tried, only a few ever managed to get through all Umbra rites of passage and become initiates. Among that small number were Winter and Chaos. They had a very useful and timely skillset for such times.

I stared at him. “And once again you’ve gone rogue from your own council. Why?”

Winter stepped closer. “I think you know that answer.”

I knew part of the answer. He had proven more than once to be on my side and an ally to the Lunar Order.

“But us working together is not ideal, you must admit,” I said. “Why not bring in Kirsi or even Chazona, for all I care?”

Ugh. I hate when my subconscious betrays me.

Why on Earth did I bring that wicked bitch up? Her utter delight at taunting me with her possible intimacy with Winter still burned deep red holes in my brain.

Winter’s eye twitched. “Perhaps it’s time you extinguish all petty rivalries that serve no purpose, Luna. Just because our dalliance didn’t pan out as you had hoped, doesn’t mean we can’t come together in a time of crisis.”

Dude, what? I can’t believe he went there.

I stared at him, dumfounded. “First, I can’t unpack all the delusions you loaded into what you just said. That better have been a failed joke. I mean, get over yourself. I could write a book about the reasons I don’t want to partner up with you for anything. Anything, Winter. Sheesh. Every time I try to put the broken pieces of my life back together, you’re always right here in my face wanting to rip it all apart again. You lie, manipulate, annoy, stalk, mislead, withhold key information and drip with arrogance. And you’re sweaty. Why do you come over here and sweat all over everything? This is not the resume of my ideal partner, okay? I think we can agree on that at least.”

He peered into my eyes, wearily. “I misspoke. Forgive me.”

Talking to him was like racing through a minefield. I walked to the door. “Yeah, it’s time for you to go. You wear me out. Man. I’ll sleep on it, okay? Best I can offer right now.’’

He walked past me without a glance. “It’s not about me, in the end. Luna Mae is a mist rider and mist riders never turn away.”

Winter closed the door quietly behind him. He was wrong. It wasn’t the mist rider who wanted to turn away, it was the girl. It was self-preservation.

I needed a drink, a stiff drink or three. And then I needed to talk to Celia’s friend, Penelope Osvaldo, seer extraordinaire.

© 2020 Stella Fitzsimons. AllRightsReserved