Two Blue Wings

Photo taken on a visit to Brookhaven Mississippi Train Station Researching “The Unicorn Rider: Book I …

4th Day – Going to Travel – 1^st draft – The Unicorn Rider: Virgins, Unicorns & The Dead…

(WARNING SENSUAL MATERIAL… first part of this chapter…)…

Author Not:  A long chapter, but needful to introduce what both Candice and Whybow are up against. Then you must ask yourself, who is Mags really? On a more personal level do you know who you are… because you are more than what you see. I know this from personal experience. 

 

After a coffee together Mags began her walk home in the bright early morning light. “You wouldn’t even know there had been a storm,” Mags said to Candice as she waved good bye.

“See you tonight to watch the place, OK? Dinner is on me here of course!” Candice said as she waved back to Mags, watching her round the corner toward her place.

Way off down Canal Street Candice could see a figure slowly walking up the slight incline of the long street from down on the pier. “Looks like Toni will be up for coffee after all.” Candice hesitated thinking that maybe she should call Mags back to talk about their finding the note, but then decided against the idea.

“Hey Candice,” Toni said in greeting and then placed the tool box he had brought with him, down on the ground. “That antique mail slot finally came in to Pete’s shop. I thought, since it is still early before opening that I had a bit of time to put it in your door and talk about some news I got for you.”

“What news?” Candice said, now distracted from her thoughts by Toni’s arrival.

“Apparently Yvette got tired of playing phone tag with you and took your travel plans into her own hands. She said that there is money in a grant she runs for traveling students, who give presentations at the University there in Victoria. She said she thinks you would not mind coming to San Francisco during Fall Break, so she got you some train tickets, round trip of course.” Toni stopped to take a breath and then walked over to the mail slot of the open door. “She called me last night during that spell of bad rain we got. So I thought you would want to call the Amtrak Reservations and see if the deal was legit. Isn’t the first day of break tomorrow?” Toni took out his tape measure and began measuring the door, while writing down numbers with a golf pencil and small spiral note pad from out of the pocket of his grey polo shirt.

“That was unexpected,” Candice said, “Wonder when I am suppose to do the presentation to pay back the grant? It is break after all.”

“She told me nothing about that,” Toni said as he multi-tasked between the conversation and his need for exact measurements.

“I will call this afternoon when I come in to work at the club to confirm the reservations. I may have to do some quick packing too, if the trip is tomorrow,” Candice said as if talking more to herself than to Toni.

“Candice I will be ready to take you anytime, will close up the club to do it too if you need it,” Toni said, stopping his work to emphasize his willingness to provide transportation.

“Oh that reminds me, Toni I have something I want to show you to see what you make of it and a favor to ask you,” Candice said going back into the entry way to fetch the note off the wooden side table.

Candice handed the note to Toni, who had put down his measuring tape to give his full attention to what he sensed was a potential problem for Candice. “Where did you find this kid?” Toni said, as he shifted is weight from one white leather tennis shoe to the other.

“I and Mags found it down in the basement nailed to an old wooden trunk. We had the fright of a time the night before last too. With the wind threatening to lock us down there because of the small door in the parlor acting up. The door opening on its own once I got the lock open.” Candice said, using her hands as she spoke to emphasize the importance of what happened.

“You shouldn’t go down there,” Toni said, now with his full concentration held by each word Candice spoke. “No one has been down there, since your Uncle Osbert left town. He’s got some stuff down there in storage. That old well can be a dangerous place for people not familiar with wells. It is just old and dangerous down there.” Toni held the note tightly in his hand attempting to feel each line in the note, while delaying reading it out loud to Candice.

“We will not be going down there anytime soon that is for sure,” Candice said, impatient for Toni to tell her what the note said.

“Oh yeah, you want me to read it. Cursive writing takes a knack in the reading. Let’s see,” Toni said as he attempted to distract Candice by his banter as his eyes raced over the open note’s faded penciled writing. “Even I am having a time reading this. Looks like he wanted you to know to stay away from that well, that he would have it repaired and wanted to show it to you once he had it done.” Toni cleared his throat looking up at Candice to see if she was buying what he was saying. “He also said he was very happy to leave his place in such caring hands as yours. That he wishes he could be here to see you receive the keys to the house from your Grandmother on your 21st birthday.” Toni said, now feeling relief Candice was buying the message he was reading aloud. He stopped for questions.

“Was my Uncle Osbert my legal guardian?” Candice asked, looking Toni in the eye.

“No, your Grandmother Barisha is or was up until you were eighteen. Why?” Toni said, hoping the follow up question would not be too difficult to field.

“I just thought it weird how he signed the note as Uncle and protector, that’s all.” Candice said, attempting to read Toni’s reaction to her question.

“Oh that. Your Uncle Osbert was a wealthy and eccentric sort of guy. He liked drama and make more of situations than most. A letter to a young woman he may never see would be something he would want to make meaningful by how he wanted everything to turn out for you Candice,” Toni pointed out, while handing the note back to Candice. Hoping with the note now in her hands there would be no more reasons to answer questions. Having handled that note made him moody. Toni was not good at psychometry of man-made objects. He could never get a clear image of the what’s or why’s surrounding them. Give him a natural object like a stone or a broken twig, he was good as gold in knowing who had been near it and what had happened. Maybe too he thought as he stared at Candice and her disappointed face, maybe it had been too long since Osbert had handled the note to be able to read any energy from it. Or maybe Osbert had made it that way too.

Toni turned to begin again his work on the brass mail slot on the door. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Candice pick up something off the paver stones, that glinted oddly in the morning sun light. He said nothing about it. He did not want to show his interest in the object, which he suspected had been misplaced by someone with a dangerous interest, as far as he was concerned, in Candice. Sooner or later he thought, she would show it to him anyway.

Candice held the polished lens with her fingertips, then palmed the item, when she saw Toni look her way. She felt there was something familiar about the object, though she did not know what the thing was. It looked like a round eye glass lens or a piece to a magnifying glass, but it did not magnify the surface of her palm, when she had glanced at it.

Toni said, “I don’t think I would mention that note to your Grandmother Barisha, with how she feels about the things that have happened to you and her. Most certainly I would not mention you found a trunk or that you were even in the basement for that matter.”

“I figured you would not want me to tell her,” Candice said, now paying complete attention to Toni and his handiwork on the door. “I won’t go back down there Toni, but could you while I am gone on this trip. Go down there and get that trunk and haul it up to the entry way for me to take a look at when I get back?” Candice now smiling at Toni.

“Sure, kid, I can do that,” Toni said as he fitted in the wider mail slot finally into the door snugly. “Is Melinda going to watch the place, while you are gone Candice?”

“Yes, I will ask her to do that for me. Watch the mail. She can let you in anytime you need to do what you need in the house Toni,” Candice said, now in planning mode walking into the house to leave Toni to concentrate on the details of the door and get him his black coffee, before he had to leave.

Candice open and closed the new door over the ornate window next to the heavy front door with a satisfied smile. Then her hand fell down on to the tarnished brass mail slot with the hinged door hanging like a curtain on the out side over the opening. She thought this wider opening into the entry way will take some getting use to as the wind from the narrow street swayed its’ door slightly.

As Candice inspected the outside of the entry way, amazed at Toni’s work, rounding the corner off the street she met Mags. Mags had said she would stay the evening, since Candice was going to help out at the jazz club in return for the work Toni had done on the front entrance. Candice pointed out the changes to the front entry to Mags who was impressed by the size of the mail slot. With a finger and then her whole hand Mags pushed easily past the brass plate and into the house pretending she was making a large delivery of important papers.

Mags said, “I can even see the floor through the slot, this is much different than before.”

Candice said, “All you have to do this evening ’till I get home is make sure no one has any questions about leaving mail or messages. And it is understood that if they need something that they put it in writing, since no one comes into the house. That they understand that this is a mail drop only.”

Mags wrinkled her nose and leaned over at the waist with a hand holding down the back of her short black skirt pretending to look into the house and talk through the mail slot to someone on the other side. Candice laughed at Mags’ acting.

“Yes,” Candice said, “That is about what it will be like if people do want to talk about something, but at least you also have the old window to use there beside the door to not have to lean down yourself to answer back!”

Candice invited Mags into the house, then to the kitchen. “There is a big salad in the ice box. On the counter you will find a half loaf of fresh french bread I baked this morning. Butter is over there on the counter,” Candice pointed out. “And of course there is a whole bottle of Chianti in the ice box for you Mags to round out dinner.”

“Well coming here to watch the mail slot can become a habit if there is a meal associated with it,” said Mags smiling as she washed her hands in the deep sink and then grabbed the linen tea towel off the wire rack attached up on the white cupboard door to dry her hands.

Candice felt confident now about leaving Mags alone for this evening. Business had increased amazingly enough of recent Candice thought as she picked up her red floral shawl tying it around her waist and pulling her purse strap on to her shoulder.

Candice said over her shoulder, “There are businesses from outside the area expressing interest in the mail drop services. The advertising in cafes and the newspaper is doing the trick.”

Mags said as she saw Candice to the door, “I wonder who will turn up this evening? I never see their faces, but only hear the mail slot bang and find mail on the floor.”

Candice, smiling said quickly, since she was running a bit late, “Just keep it that way; your imagination to entertain yourself and not the customers!”

Mags pushed the heavy door shut behind Candice. Then Candice heard Mags push the bolt lock into place.

Mags then opened the side door over the ornate window; trying the hinged action out; while peeking out the window looking at the spot where she expected to see her customers. Now she was hungry and decided to get her dinner, while there was light enough to see before lanterns should be lit for this evening.

Mags having just eaten and washing up her few dishes began the process of lighting the lanterns in the kitchen and parlor. She would also take with her the long brass torch to prepare lighting the one gas lamp outside the front door and the two gas lamps on either side of the small foyer that surrounded the front door giving the mail slot business its home.

There were no customers, so far dropping off mail. It was getting late. Maybe Saturday night was a slow time and that is why Candice allowed her to watch the mail slot Mags thought to herself.

Mags bored put down her book that she had been reading and moved out into the foyer. The foyer was dim in the golden light, though there were two gas wall lamps. Mags glided around on her stocking feet as she danced on the smooth hardwood floor. She cast long twin shadows with each move. She saw there was still no mail dropped yet. Mags then hitched her bottom up onto the long narrow heavy wooden table along the foyer wall. The table was cool on the bare skin exposed around her thong. She tried to work her skirt down a bit as she sat swinging her legs. Mags began to talk to herself with one foot on the floor and the other foot up on the edge of the table pushed-under herself. She moved out of the way on the table a long black lint brush that Candice kept there for last minute adjustments to her jackets. There was also a low wicker basket on top of the table, that Candice used to store newly arrived mail.

“It is late and almost time to close up,” she said. Mags continuing to talk to her imagined customer.

She moved to the edge of the table with a widening of her pelvis as she place more weight on her tucked foot. She was now tip-toed with her other stockinged foot on the floor. Mags’ skirt yielded up to her waist and her light weight blouse became untucked from the edge of the skirt with this extreme maneuver. Her nipples felt hot braced by her low cut bra. As she bumped them with her up tucked thigh there came an urgent need to touch them. She also felt the chill of the air on her moistening labial lips. There was a warming inside these folds that she had not been thinking on, but it was there.

Mags went on talking to herself “What is it you want? No,… I am too busy right now. Just leave your mail there,” she said. Moving her fingers around on the top edge of her black lace garter she pulled it up slightly to have free access to her mound.

Her legs appearing to lengthen as she stretched for more openness to her warming twat. Mags then found her access blocked by the crotch of the thin thong. With a gliding strong finger she grabbed the loop and pulled it outward and to the side. The thin edge of the thong move over her clit with some force causing her to move her buttocks into the force.

Mags whispered, “Yes, I like that, what are you doing… No don’t stop.”

Now with both hands on the table behind her she pushed up her opening to the unseen force she hoped would enter. Her hand bumped into the thick handled lint brush that sat on the polished wooded table top. She put the handle to her mouth moistening it from hilt to tip. She then with red fuzzed mound tilted up ward pushed the long handle slowly into her wet opening. With her free hand she made circular movements with two fingers passing over her clit and down to the now fucked twat. She was focused with her quiet moaning not to see the mail slot slowly open.

Mags totally lost in the stimulation of her twat glanced over to see four muscular fingers gripping the mail slot edge. She pushed in the handle of the brush faster as she saw these fingers move in a tapping rhythm along the brass opening. She thought to her self if only these face-less fingers were on my clit and fucking my twat. She was dizzy hot and leaning back on the table barely able to keep her balance on the edge. The orgasm tantalized the edges of her vagina without a plunge that would satisfy her, once she has seen the fingers so close for fucking.

Mags hopped down off her platform and moved over to the mail slot. She grasped the long brass torch and with its cone extinguished each gas lamp in the foyer. The mood changed to one of hot excitement as the fingers continued to linger on the edge of the slot. Mags then leaned down her face to the mail slot and felt the warm even breath of the man out in the darkness on the other side who had been observing her masturbation.

Mags whispered, “Yes.” There was no sound from the other side of the mail slot. Mags turned bent over hiking up her skirt exposing her hot vaginal opening pressing her buttock on to the mail slot. Two large hands reached through to her fevered amazement and grasped her bare hips. She felt his hot quick breath on her wet folds. Then suddenly as she had hoped she had three of his strong moistened fingers in her twat. She was being fucked deeply by the unknown man. She leaned over further to take all he had to give. With one hand she pulled up her blouse pulled down her bra exposing one tit grasping at the nipple she squeezed it. She reached between her drenched thighs, then found her thickening erect clit between her fingers she moved it with the rhythm of his fucking hand. He seemed to mount her with each stroke of his skilled hand. His rhythm pounded deep into the opening. He kept pace with her desired fucking movements. His other hand seemed to guide her hip pulling her close and not letting go until she had come hard on his hand. When she came her eyes rolled uncontrolled, her breathing stopped and she felt her hot twat grip the fucking fingers now wet with her female cum.

Once the waves of orgasm had stopped the man pulled back his large fucking fingers and gently rubbed the moisture of his hand over her labial folds. He with drew his hand from her twat, then the hand from off her hip. Mags turned facing the mail slot leaned against the door with both breasts pressed firmly against the unyielding wood. A hand reached in grasped her hot twat with his middle finger entered her once more with a parting fuck. He pulled his hand back slowly. She heard the grinding of the paving stones as the man rose then turned walking away quickly from the door. Weakly she responded by grasping the knob to open the small door of the ornate window, but it was too late he was gone and there were only shadows coming from the lamp lit street.

Mags felt drained and thought she should now go back to the parlor to await Candice. She turned the old key in the lock on the door, then pulled it from the lock. She pulled back the bolt on the door in preparation for when Candice would use her key to enter the house after work. She wrapped up in the flannel quilt that she found over the back of a chair. In the overstuffed chair she fell into a drugged-like sleep.

Candice was near the table where her Mac sat when she heard the chimes alerting her to a Skype call. She laid the white wash cloth in the small pail she had been using to clean up after the last of the customers at closing time for Toni.

“Cheol, how is it going?” Candice excited to see her friend’s face on the screen of her laptop. “Did you finally get that package I sent you?”

“Sure did, I feel like I own a piece of a real swamp!” Cheol said, holding up six inches of smooth twisted tree branch. “I picture Bacchus wielding his thyrus at a gathering, when I hold it.” Cheol moved the wand like object in small tight circular motions in front of his laptop camera watching his own image in the corner of the screen.

“Wonder why you thought of that particular use of a souvenir twig?” Candice quipped. “Must be your reading to much mythology in all of those libraries you like to crawl with friends!”

“Well I can tell you right now no one has ever given me a twig or any part of a tree before, let alone mailing one to me.” Cheol said, with a smile and laying the twig near by on his desk.

“It was something my Dad said he found on a picnic with my family and gave to me, along time ago. I like how smooth it was and its gnarled surface reminded me of all the stories I had heard of creatures who lived in the swamp.” Candice said, “I thought you would enjoy it too, maybe inspire your writing.”

“I will keep it near by to guide me through all those paper rubrics to divine the way!” Cheol fired back.

“I just confirmed my reservations on Amtrak that Yvette made for me. I am getting things together to come to San Francisco and will be there in a few days.” Candice shared with relief in her voice.

“I will find out when you are to arrive and we can go out to eat. Doesn’t matter day or night.” Cheol said.

“You may need the twig to find me or maybe to recognize me,” said Candice.

“I will bring the twig with me, but I won’t need it to recognize you Candice,” Cheol said, “But of course I have the next best thing to find you with and that will be Yvette!” Cheol laughed, which then turned into a few coughs, which he moved through with continued laughing.

Candice laughed, thinking Cheol can never be out done in the use of irony. “Its late. Club closing and I am heading out the door Cheol. I will Skype you tomorrow if the train has Wi-Fi.” Candice knew she would have to hang up first as the screen when dark.

Candice made it home and found Mags tucked asleep into the oversized chair. “Mags, I am home”, Candice said tapping Mags on her shoulder. Mags breathing remained even in her sleep. Candice decided to leave her there and ask her about her evening in the morning.

Candice checked the foyer, the lamps and the door one last time before going on up to bed. Over in the corner of the floor under the ornate window was something pale white. It was a business card. It was hard to make it out at this point, but Candice mouthed the name slowly in a whisper, “Jorge Alvarado… Actor’s Guild Representative…. Badajoz, Spain.”

Candice placed the card over on the wooden table. She was too tired to be puzzled for right now of the what’s and why’s involved with the appearance of the card in the foyer. A bath awaited her and then bed.

Gaet Gozzi, a short wiry framed blond haired man arrived back to the passenger side of the silver 2012 Lexus LFA. He had on a calf length leather cloak, that he pulled tight around his knees as he slid into the low sports car.

“Well what happened? What did you get done Gaet?” said Jorge Alvarado. Alvarado was of much the same muscular wiry build of Gaet, but with black short hair, black eyes and a well kept short black beard.

“It went better than you thought it would. The ‘what’ of the matter is, she should be dead now,” Gaet said in a high pitched voice boasting a thick Venetian accent.

“What do you mean she is dead? Who is dead?” Jorge said, sitting more forward in his seat grasping the steering wheel of the car now with both hands in a strong grip. His eyes attempting to see over the distance and through the door of the house up the street in the darkness.

“The girl, the one who you were sent to handle, a unicorn rider.” Gaet snorted boastful and demanding of Alvarado’s approval.

“What? How did you do this thing? I only wanted you to make contact. You realize you can not ‘kill’ an immortal being? If you wounded her this will bring the Physiologus into our situation and make what it is we wish to do impossible!” Alvarado said in a staccato of sharp English flavored with Castilian intonation.

“No Jorge, I know what will kill such a thing as this. She was pleasuring her self and I offered to help. This is in line with the legends, that if the rider is pleasured by a man, she die not a virgin any longer. Her immortality hinges upon if she remain unknown by a man and her work depends upon being pure and virgin to tame the unicorn that guides the souls.” Gaet speaking slowly as to impress his fellow mage with his exacting knowledge of the role of the Hunter.

Jorge fell back into his seat in limp exasperation hoping to find a remedy in the words or actions of Gaet. “So tell me how did you, Gaet without getting into the house violate the unicorn rider? How is it that a man such as yourself, endowed as any other man, was able to have intercourse with a young woman through a locked door?” Alvarado said, now waving his hands around to emphasize each word.

Gaet smiled so widely in the dark of the interior of the car that his teeth glinted in the light of the near by street lamps. “I did not use the phallus of my cazzo, I used my hand to do the job.”

“Just your hand? And she let you do this?” Jorge said, thinking over the implications of this possible voluntary sex act Gaet was describing.

“Yes she accepted my hand and her pleasure was strong and complete. She consented to me, because I saw her pleasuring her self on the table from where I could see her through the opening of the mail slot. Fortunately she was ready and saw my willingness to help her. I am certain this all means that she is dead now without will or way to fulfill her needs as a virgin for the unicorn. All souls directed to her or the well will be lost. These souls will be those gained by the masters then, do you not think Jorge?” Gaet said now thinking and questioning his present situation there in the car.

Jorge rubbing his beard with his right hand thinking spoke his thoughts, “Virgins do not have sex with men and stay in that state long. But masturbation by a man that could be construed as different or the same to leave a woman in the state of having known a man?”

“Yes, the opportunity presented and I took it,” Gaet remembering with a smile clinging to his lips.

Alvarado straightened himself in the leather bucket seat. “I sent you to retrieve my water elemental that apparently lost it self in this village after our meeting that ended the Stanhope mages and their Guild of Physiologus work with souls. Did you sense a well near by that could have attracted to it this unicorn rider and the elemental?”

“No, I did not sense a well and as for your elemental I have trapped it within the phylactery you said it belonged to,” Gaet said, as he reached into his leather cloak retrieving the small human fleshed box, then giving it to Alvarado. “I did not sense for that matter a rider either, until I laid eyes on this female pleasuring herself and I knew then she was doing as all riders do due to their ever virgin condition.”

Jorge said, “You may have done something stupid with you masturbated that female, Gaet. There were two females that I saw going in and out of the house. Neither one did I sense was a rider. If you serviced the wrong women we could be paying for this error from both the direction of our own Guild and the Guild of Physiologus.” Jorge sat stewing over how to change the situation, to one of benefit if but only himself.

Changing the subject to one he wished he was having with Alvarado, one were he had did what he was told, Gaet said, “You asked if the Elemental had left evidence of contact with riders or mages, there was none I could sense at the time I captured the being in its phylactery.” Gaet left off the part where he had left Alvarado’s calling card to take credit for the demise of a unicorn rider by the Guild Maleficia. A detail he could tell about later if the rider was found dead.

“I am sure you were in no condition to know anything, I am sure if all you say is a truth!” Jorge said, as he turned on the car. He took a chance to drive slowly by the house on the off chance a woman would be outside to question or that he would be able to sense any information before withdrawing from this mess. There was nothing to sense, which Alvarado found odd, then dismissed in his frustration as he drove off at great speed.

Sitting high up on the edge of an adjoining building sat a small Brown Falcon. Anyone who knew the birds of this area of the country would have known it a native of Australia and not of this hemisphere. Whybow had sent his familiar Boz to watch the makeshift circle he had thrown around the house after the attack. The circle now protecting the occupants of the house as they slumbered.

Whybow in his Porsche had gotten an early start on his drive to Brookhaven to catch the train at the Amtrak station. He sipped his coffee, when his pad changed from it GPS function to accepting a video call. “Edita, Good Morning,” Alastar said as he handled the sports car around a curve in the road with his right hand, the other hand still in recovery lay in his lap. “Have you had your coffee yet Edita?”

“Yes, and having more to be able to follow you and your early morning outings Alastar,” said a smiling Edita, her thick dark brown hair pinned up on her head revealing the high collar of an oriental influenced blue ceremonial robe.

“I think I will surprise you with my next idea and a change of plans,” Whybow said, taking a sip of his own coffee with careful use of his wounded wrist. “I just have time to make it to the station after taking a look at our rider’s home of origin. I am hopeful to take a look at our Ana Barisha in the process.”

“Really,” said Edita, showing a focused interest. “You may find more than you can handle if time is that tight. You do not want to miss the long train trip ahead of you.”

“It is worth the off chance I would miss the train. It is that important, if what I suspect is true Edita,” Alastar said.

“And what could that be?” Edita said, as if to take a cue from what Alastar was saying. That it was now time to begin a scrying session. A blue glow once again began to appear to her left as she gazed with concentration into the mirrored surface she was invoking.

“You well may see soon,” Alastar said, turning the tablet on its swiveling clip to face the direction he was driving, hoping to give Edita another vantage point of unfolding events.

Alastar drove for some time until he saw a faded sign to his left. It indicated the entrance to ‘The Stanhope Morgan Horses’. Having missed the turn due to his speed, he drove for about a mile down the road. Turning onto a side road preparing for a turn around, Alastar stopped the Porsche and parked over looking a cypress swamp. It was dawn and there was a mix of rising mist and dancing shadows out over the waters, just off the turn around area where he sat.

“What is it Alastar?” Edita said, as she both sensed and saw he had stopped.

“I am not sure,” Whybow said, as he sat there attempting to feel out the situation. Alastar rolled down the window and taking his iPhone off its stand he snapped a photo out the driver’s window of the car. Bringing the cell phone in, he placed his palm over the GPS marked image. Whybow closed his eyes, with focused breathing he slowly raised the palm of his hand up off the screen of the phone. Opening his eyes he saw the image was now drawn upward, rising above the glassy surface. Productive of an exact miniature image of the area in real time, that was out in front of his vehicle. Placing the iPhone into its holder horizontal to the dash, Whybow backed out of the dead end road, on to the highway, driving back to the entrance of the Stanhope stables. Then turning on to the sign marked narrow gravel road, he drove within far visual range of the house. Being mindful he may have to turn around on the narrow road, he found a spot a bit closer than he would have liked, to the house at a white wooden field gate. The fence had turned into white painted wood at this point nearer the house. The image on the phone displayed an area of about 600 feet wide and 500 feet ahead of the car. Whybow’s lips were moving as the image on the surface of the phone appeared to bounce, covering the ground in front of the car moving towards the house and stables. He stopped his recitations and the image stopped moving, hanging over the circular gravel drive out front the estate. “Edita,” Alastar whispered. “Watch if anyone appears in this area. If I am right someone will take notice.”

“But how Alastar?” Edita said, as she continued to scry the area focused around his car. “How would a person know you were translocating visually the area?”

“A very good question, Edita,” Whybow said.

Suddenly a figure appeared both within the image of the phone’s surface and in the far distance in front of the house. From the phone’s surface it was obvious who the image was. It was Ana Barisha moving quickly around the yard and toward the stables looking upward, then from side to side. She was running as if she were chasing something or someone, but never catching up with what she was looking for. Alastar bent closer to the phone image and said “Alterius Angeli character est …”

Edita said,”I get it now the who. What happened just now?”

Ana Barisha shouted, “Who is evoking me? Show yourself magus! I will kill you for I am not yours, ever!” Barisha rushing to the back of the house with fists raised went out of visual range, but remained as part of the moving raised image on the top of the iPhone surface.

“Time to leave before she is able to deliver what she says,” Whybow said, shifting the gears on the Porsche turning tightly on the narrow road, then straightening out picking up speed to the main road ahead. He pulled out without stopping and looked back in his rear view mirror to see the old woman standing in the middle of the road staring in his direction.

“Who’s familiar is she?” Edita asked as she stared at the glowing blue light coming from her scrying mirror.

“She is more than likely Osborn’s since she took the doppelganger form of the mage Ana Barisha or she could be Ana’s own familiar too. But by both accounts this familiar is the who, and the what, that raised Candice, hid and protected her all those years,” said Whybow as he shifted his concentration from the rear view mirror and on to the changing road ahead.

“Why did you take a chance to find out if your hunch were true? Couldn’t this have waited, you took a risk,” Edita said, the blue light to her left disappearing as she closed her scrying mirror.

“I may need that information to convince our unicorn rider, that I know what I am talking about, possibly.” Whybow said, as he felt the need to now make time toward the village and on to his appointment.

 

Next Chapter…

5th Day – Traveling in a straight line… The Unicorn Rider: Book I…

Previous Chapter…

3rd Day – Wet… The Unicorn Rider: Book I…

 

Table of Contents | The Unicorn Rider: Book I | Virgins, Unicorns & The Dead