Once Upon a Quest Read online

  On the fifth day of their journey, they stumbled upon a smooth, compact dirt road leading up the mountain. They smiled in unison, appreciating the ease of walking on the road after picking their way through the forest for days.

  “This is promising,” Lazarus said, feeling in better spirits since sending Kate away.

  Lillian’s entire face lit up. Her gray eyes seemed to glow, and her hair shown a brilliant and fiery red without the forest’s dense canopy to block the sun.

  Eager to see where the road led, they hurried their pace, ignoring hunger and heat until the sloping road brought them level atop a summit overlooking valleys and forests. But the sight that caused their hearts to patter hardest was the stone archway and what lay beyond the thick walls. An elegant six-foot sign set in stone announced: BALMAR HEIGHTS.

  Lazarus and Lillian passed the sign and walked through the archway where they beheld the wonders within. Luxurious stone villas with brick courtyards rose across the plateau like rectangular mountain peaks. Every home had a pool and balcony with views that stretched for miles beyond. Fountains, no longer running, sprang from the cobblestone road’s median every couple hundred feet.

  Atop the mountain, there were no trees to fall on the homes, which would have held up beneath the weight of a dozen tumbling trees. The sturdy stone could last centuries, and the overgrown lawns, murky pools, and fountains needed only cleanup and maintenance. The wizards could produce enough electricity with their minds to power their small community, and the thick surrounding walls provided extra fortification.

  It was an oasis. A hidden paradise. A dream come true.

  Lillian spread her arms wide and circled in place, tilting her face to the sun. Her smile extended across her cheeks like an enchanted horizon without borders. Heart bursting with glee, Lazarus caught the jubilant redhead and spun her around.

  “We did it,” Lillian said after he’d put her down. “We found our coven a magnificent new home. It’s better than anything I could have ever dreamed.”

  Grinning, Lazarus said, “We will spend the night then go get the others, but first let’s explore our territory.”

  They surveyed the villas, each seemingly more stunning than the last, and debated the merits of everything they’d seen as though shopping for a home.

  “The view from the first villa was better,” Lillian argued.

  “But the pool in the last place was bigger,” Lazarus countered.

  “I like the décor in this place,” Lillian said, admiring the angular armchairs, silk curtains, vintage furniture, raffia rug, and art deco pieces adorning the dusty surfaces surrounding them. It was still hard to absorb such decadence after living for weeks in a barn.

  Lazarus looked around and smiled. “Then we’ll move all the furniture and art to the villa with the big pool.”

  “Or the villa with the best view,” Lillian tossed in.

  Lazarus laughed, feeling carefree for the first time since leaving behind his childhood home.

  It was as they were walking across the overgrown lawn to the next villa that Lillian pointed out the large paw print in a patch of dirt. The track stretched seven inches long and five wide and sank deep into the mud.

  “Grizzly,” Lillian whispered.

  As though conjuring him up with that one word, a turbulent roar careened over the mountaintop. A ferocious snout appeared from around a villa as the bear charged.

  Lillian had the invisible barrier protecting herself and Lazarus from the grizzly in place before the enraged beast reached them. The bear thudded against her barrier then tried again, scraping his claws against the concealed screen separating them. Spittle flew from his fangs as he roared at them from a foot away.

  Lazarus cracked his knuckles and narrowed his eyes. Having mastered spells manipulating emotion and elements, he muttered a calming incantation and the bear dropped to four legs, closed his mouth, and blinked.

  “What now?” Lillian asked.

  But before Lazarus could come up with a plan, the grizzly began to shake and bare his fangs, which turned to teeth before their eyes. His snout receded and brown fur dissolved; claws retracted into stubby fingernails. His body contracted into the muscular form of a man. Like the wolf shifters, his transformation left him naked. When he stood, he towered over them, nearly seven feet tall with brown shaggy hair that brushed his shoulders.

  “What are you?” he demanded.

  Lazarus squared his shoulders. “A wizard.”

  “There’s no such thing.”

  “No more than a shapeshifting man bear.”

  The bear shifter narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing in my territory?”

  “Your territory?” Lazarus repeated with a throaty laugh. “What need does a bear have of villas and fountains and pools?”

  “I own one of these villas,” came the rumbling answer of the bear shifter.

  Unwilling to give up such a fortunate discovery, Lazarus’s mind grasped for ideas to stall the bear shifter long enough to figure out a way to get rid of him for good.

  “There is only one of you and thirty-seven of us. I’m sure we can come to an agreement. Let us discuss it over dinner and wine. My powers include the ability to make spirits from mere water.”

  “You think wine is more precious than water?” The bear shifter looked down his wide nose at Lazarus and scoffed. “Foolish, wizard.”

  Lazarus bristled at that, not appreciating the insult, especially not in front of Lillian.

  “Besides,” the bear shifter continued, “I have my own wine cellar stocked from ceiling to floor. I have no need of your magic, nor company. Now leave here before I shift back and eat you.”

  The threat was all the justification Lazarus needed. Storm clouds gathered above their heads and lightning flashed in his eyes. Electricity sizzled in Lazarus’s veins and sparked at his fingertips.

  The bear shifter’s roar turned animalistic as fangs punched through his gums. He reared back, and his body arched. Dense, brown fur sprung over his skin, covering it completely as he transformed back into his animal form.

  Thunder cracked overhead, but Lazarus needed the barrier removed to strike.

  “Lillian! Now!” he cried.

  Elbows bent, she cupped her hands and dropped them to her sides.

  The wall fell, and the bear lunged. Lazarus sent a bolt of lightning between them and the bear. The smell of singed fur and burnt grass filled their nostrils. Electricity crackled around them and lifted the hairs on Lillian’s head. The bear bellowed then flipped around and ran down the cobbled road and through the arches to the wilderness beyond.

  As the crack of thunder echoed away and the clouds dissipated, Lillian turned to Lazarus with a wide smile.

  “You did it!” she exclaimed.

  “We did,” he returned, mirroring her smile.

  While they still had daylight, Lillian got to work warding the walls encompassing Balmar Heights from intruders and Lazarus kept a lookout in case the bear shifter returned, or any other unwanted guests trespassed.

  Night descended slowly, shadowing the forest below before slinking up the mountainside. Lillian was exhausted from warding their newfound utopia. Raiding one of the villa’s kitchen’s, Lazarus set out a feast of stuffed olives, rosemary crackers, assorted nuts, hickory-smoked sausage, salami, spiced mustard, dried fruits, and boxed cookies. Thanks to the bear shifter’s tip, he checked the cellar and found a bottle of French champagne. He even rummaged up a couple of candlesticks and lit them with a spell that sparked from his fingertips to the wicks.

  In the glow of the candlelight, Lillian’s hair shimmered like copper.

  He popped the champagne cork and poured them each a bubbling flute. Raising their glasses, they toasted the success of their voyage.

  “Your mother and the rest of the coven will be so pleased,” Lillian gushed, her cheeks rosy from champagne.

  As they polished off the delicacies and drank the rest of the champagne, Lazarus wondered why something still na
gged at him—the quest not yet complete. Then he remembered the test he felt certain his mother had put forth to find him with a worthy bride.

  Cecilia had been passionate, and Kate adventurous, but he had never felt more at home than he did with the loyal and resourceful Lillian.

  He reached for her hands and looked into her gray eyes.

  “Lillian, brave companion and most lovely witch, will you be my forever?”

  As she stared back, studying his face, Lazarus found it difficult to breathe as he awaited her answer. This woman he wanted above all others. This woman had been worth the wait.

  She moistened her lips and answered. “Of course, my heroic and handsome, Lazarus. You had only to ask.”

  That night they pulled a sumptuous, quilt-topped mattress onto one of the villa’s terraces and lay on their backs, fingers interlaced, watching the twinkling stars.

  Morning brought a sigh to Lazarus’s lips at leaving the oasis they’d found for even a brief time, but as they made their way back down the cobbled road, Lillian scooped up a smooth, solid stone and pressed it into his hand.

  “A little memento to remind you that we’ll soon return,” she said, smiling.

  He slipped the stone inside his pocket to free his fingers, so he could take her hand and hold it during the journey back.

  In many ways the world had ended.

  In many more, it was just beginning. And it was theirs for the taking.

  * * *

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The inspiration for “Blow Your House Down” came from one of my favorite fairy tales growing up: The Three Little Pigs. While working on Born Wild, book three in the Wolf Hollow Shifters series, I wanted to explore how the wizards of Balmar Heights—in particular Lazarus—happened upon the beautiful gated community in the mountains and took it from the bear shifters. This project presented an ideal opportunity to explore that quest and put a twist on yet another childhood tale that painted the wolf as The Big Bad.

  In this story humans have destroyed the world with overpopulation and environmental destruction that led to disease and collapse. For the humans who survived, it’s turned into a Mad Max, dog-eat-dog nightmare, while shifters and wizards have forged communities in the forest away from the violence.

  Much like Columbus, Lazarus is on a pilgrimage to find new land and get along with the natives or, better yet, push them out.

  In addition to the three home locations (the stable: straw; the cabins: wood; and the villas: stone and brick), another theme worked itself in with the three women (Cecilia representing straw; Kate, wood; and Lillian, stone and brick).

  It has been my observation on many occasions that the person who talks the loudest and acts the toughest—in this story, Kate—is oftentimes the one who breaks down before reaching the finish line. In this story, her bones literally break.

  Similar to The Tortoise and the Hare, Lillian is steady and constant throughout and ultimately succeeds in the quest and winning Lazarus’s heart. I also added the tearful farewell with her family because emotions are often viewed as weak, but I believe it’s our deep connection to family, friends, animals, and nature that makes life worthwhile.

  Thank you for joining Lazarus and Lillian on their quest. You are invited to journey deeper into this fantastical dystopian landscape in the Wolf Hollow Shifters series. I hope to see you there!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Nikki Jefford is a third-generation Alaskan now living in the Pacific Northwest with her French husband and their Westie, Cosmo. When she’s not reading or writing, she enjoys nature, walking, and motorcycling. Nikki is the author of the Wolf Hollow Shifters series, the Aurora Sky: Vampire Hunter series, and the Spellbound Trilogy.

  To find out more about her books or sign up for her newsletter, please visit her website at NikkiJefford.com.

  For new release alerts and sale promos, you can follow Nikki on BookBub and Facebook; or say hello on Twitter and Instagram.

  Bane and Balm: A Fae Tale of Eile

  Jenna Elizabeth Johnson

  Claire stood on the edge of the small cottage’s property line and stared at the gathering pool below the brook. Strands of her deep auburn hair tugged free of the hood she had pulled over her head, only to stream before her like ribbons on Beltane. She dropped the bucket she’d brought from the house and stepped forward, her thin shoes sinking into the saturated ground.

  “I don’t understand,” she muttered under her breath. A few nearby sheep bleated lazily, but did not bother to look up from their meal. “It was full yesterday.”

  The pool was only half-full, the tributary feeding it nothing more than a trickle. Worrying her lower lip, Claire followed the stream with her eyes up the steep hillside until it disappeared into Dorcha Forest. The cottage she and her aunt shared rested between the valley floor and those trees, and many in the village believed the wood to be haunted by dark magic. The water from the creek was the only thing to ease Aunt Ethne’s suffering from a mysterious wasting illness, and now it seemed the water had stopped flowing.

  “Might just be a temporary thing,” she muttered to a black sheep mowing grass beside her. “Let’s wait it out a few days. I’ve got some extra water stored in the barrel in the back.”

  Claire stepped back, kicking the mud from her shoes before turning and heading downhill toward the cottage.

  * * *

  Despite Claire’s high hopes, however, the thin trickle of water only grew narrower by week’s end.

  “The stream has all but dried up,” she said morosely as she stepped into the cottage late one afternoon.

  Aunt Ethne struggled to sit up in her small bed against the far wall. The fire Claire had built that morning before escaping outdoors still burned cheerfully, but she added a few more logs anyway.

  “Winter is still weeks away, so a freeze cannot be the reason,” she mused as she sorted through some wild nuts she’d gathered earlier.

  “You have managed to store a good lot of it,” her aunt commented, her voice dry and weak.

  Claire paused in her chore, her shoulders drooping.

  “Only one barrelful, Aunt. Had I known the stream would stop flowing, I would have filled three more barrels. I was counting on another month of good weather to get that task done, and now, the pond is nearly drained as well.”

  Claire turned worried eyes onto her aunt, but to her surprise the older Lorehnin woman did not look the least bit perturbed.

  “Does this not worry you?” Claire wondered aloud.

  Aunt Ethne merely shook her head. “You will find a way, my dear. You always do.”

  Claire sighed, wondering if this time her clever mind wouldn’t be able to solve the problem. Something was holding up the stream, she was almost certain of it. If only she could figure out what. But the only way to do so would be to follow it to its source.

  Claire suddenly straightened in her chair, causing her aunt to chuckle.

  “What is going through that tireless mind of yours, child?”

  “What if I travel into Dorcha Forest and find out what’s blocking the stream?”

  Ethne grew still, the humor on her face fading a little.

  “Dorcha Forest is no place for a young woman,” she stated.

  Claire’s pale gray eyes narrowed, and her mouth hardened.

  “Oh no, I know that look,” her aunt lamented. “You are going through with this hare-brained scheme, and there is nothing I can do to stop you.”

  Claire smiled and crossed her arms. “I am glad you have finally realized there is no point in arguing with me when I’ve made my mind up.”

  “But darling Claire, that forest is dangerous.”

  “I know,” Claire sighed, sinking onto the mattress beside her aunt, “but what choice do we have? I will not sit here and watch you waste away when the water runs out. Not when there is a chance to help you.”

  Claire reached out a hand and pressed it against her aunt’s cheek when she noticed tears glistening in the other woman’s eye
s.

  “I will be fine, Aunt. I’ll be careful and keep my eye out for faelah.”

  Ethne grasped her niece’s hand, squeezing it hard. “I know you will child, I know. But you will take Onyx with you.”

  Claire flicked her eyes to the corner where a small crow perched atop a tree branch. She had found him in the spring when he was practically a hatchling and brought him home to be a companion to her aunt. He had twisted his leg in the fall from his nest, so he limped around the cottage, cawing dolefully and begging for food most of the time. But he was a good lookout and a fine flyer.

  “Who will keep you company while I’m gone?” Claire asked.

  “The sheep, of course!” Ethne piped with a laugh.

  Claire grinned. “They are outside, you know.”

  Her aunt shrugged. “I have enough strength to walk across the room and sit outside in the fresh air. It will do me some good, and like you said, the weather is still fine enough.”

  Claire kissed her aunt on the forehead and made ready for bed. She would be leaving in the morning and needed to get an early start. Despite what her aunt said, she feared the source of their stream might be deep in the heart of Dorcha, and she didn’t know what obstacles might slow her on her quest.

  But Claire would not be daunted. She had always been a brave child, and she would not lose her nerve now.

  Just keep your wits about you, Claire, and your ears and eyes sharp.

  She hoped that would be enough.

  * * *

  The following morning dawned clear and bright, the mist already retreating back down into the valley. Claire dressed quickly and packed a traveling bag with spare linens and a few empty water pouches. She pulled on her sturdy boots and her warmest cloak, one woven from scarlet wool thread she’d dyed herself, then stepped out into the common room to find her aunt awake in bed, waiting for her.

  “I already packed plenty of food for you. It should last you at least three days,” Ethne said weakly.