Over the next few days phillip was busy in preparing the army and ensuring they were ready for war. It made lisa nervous to think that there was now a real tangible enemy and they were about to ride off to fight them. “There’s a party tonight. A goodbye party of sorts.” phillip said as they lay wrapped in each other’s arms that morning. “It’s at the Courtyard.” “Are you asking if I want to go?” She asked.  “No, I’m saying you should.” He replied. “Don’t you think it’s a bit risky?” “It’s a private party, and it’s not like you’ve not b

They threw her onto the back of horse and she struggled against the bindings. In her mind she kept trying to connect not only to phillip but to her Magic but it was useless. It was like someone had shut the door on it and locked it all away. Every time she tried to reach out a piercing, white hot pain ripped through her and for the first time in a while she was scared for her life. They rode the horses hard away from the camp and up a hill to where they’d clearly set up in a cave. The hauled her off letting her hit the ground hard as she fell. She sat up and looked at them from the dirt but she knew she was defenceless. “Did anyone see?” Someone asked and a few men shook their heads. “Good. And you’re sure you weren’t followed?”

Lisa opened her eyes, aware that she was in a tent and that there were thick fur throws over her. It was dark but she could make the outline of almost everything in the tent. She shifted slightly and felt the pelts against her skin, realising that she wasn’t wearing anything except her underwear and she recoiled with fear. “It’s okay.” Phillip said moving to her side so she could see him. “You’re safe.” “Where are my clothes?” She asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. “The Agnai cut them off you.” He replied.  Lisa blinked and then looked away. She remembered the cave now. And the men who had all slit their throats. She remembered how she

I covered my mouth and nose with a hand as the smell hit me with the force of a Mack truck. I knew that smell. My job as a journalist had put me in more than one situation involving the dead or dying. I turned the corner and entered what was undoubtedly known as “the parlor”. Governor Welling lay motionless on the ground, a small, neat hole drilled through his forehead. I sat down hard on the floor, my legs unwilling to hold me upright. I tried to untangle my emotions as I sat there. I wasn’t exactly sure what I should be feeling, but I was fairly certain it wasn’t the mixture of relief and disgust that roiled through me.I heard the sound of wailing and it yanked me back to the here and now. I followed it to the back door where a woman in a pale-blue tracksuit sat on the steps, huge gasping sobs shaking her tiny body.“You’re the one who called me,” I said, knowing this had to be the housekeeper whose pani

Jason shook his head as he walked up three steps to the screened-in porch of the Craftsman he had purchased four years ago. He had just caught what was going to be the biggest case of his career and what was he thinking about? A chestnut-haired reporter who was destined to make his life hell for the foreseeable future. He could still feel the tingle where her hand had touched his and see the pain in those hazel-brown eyes. Pain he was sure she thought was well-hidden. Was that what had gotten to him? That vulnerability behind the tough protective shell? Or maybe he had imagined the whole thing. Maybe Jess was every bit the hard-as-nails journalist who really didn’t give a damn that her father was dead. In any case, he knew without a doubt they would cross paths again sooner rather than later.“Dalia! Tess!” Jason called as he shut the door behind him. A willowy blonde in yoga pants and a slim-fitting baby-blue tee hurried into the foyer wiping h