TheCrystal Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  The Crystal

  ISBN #9781419908118

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  The Crystal Copyright© 2007 Sandra Cox

  Edited by Helen Woodall.

  Photography and cover art by Les Byerley.

  Electronic book Publication: January 2007

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  The Crystal

  Sandra Cox

  Dedication

  Dedicated to Ryan, Meghan and Marc

  Acknowledgements

  The poetry used in this book is in the public domain.

  Special thanks to my editor, Helen Woodall and The FTHCritiquers.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Barbie: Mattel, Inc.

  Brut: Helen of Troy Limited

  Budweiser: Anheuser-Busch, Incorporated

  Chevy Camaro: General Motors Corporation

  Clydesdales: Anheuser-Busch, Incorporated

  Coors: Coors Brewing Company

  Diet Pepsi: Pepsico, Inc.

  Estee Lauder’s Beautiful: Estee Lauder Inc

  Estee Lauder’s Pleasures: Estee Lauder Inc

  Expedition: Ford Motor Company

  Ford Probe: Ford Motor Company

  GQ: Advance Magazine Publishers Inc

  Grand Am: General Motors Corporation

  Hummer: General Motors Corporation

  Jacuzzi: Jacuzzi, Inc

  Jaguar: Jaguar Cars Limited Corporation

  Jeep: DaimlerChrysler Corporation

  Jimmy: General Motors Corporation

  Lysol: Reckitt Benckiser, Inc.

  Merrill-Lynch: Merrill Lynch & Co., Inc.

  New Orleans Saints: New Orleans Saints Partnership

  Oreo: Kraft Food Holdings

  Palm: Palm, Inc.

  Visa: Visa International Service Association

  Prologue

  The stone was the size of a large man’s fist.

  Tamarilla, princess of the fairies, touched the fiery emerald in passing as she fluttered back and forth, her feet not touching the floor. Incandescent sparks of light flashed from her wings as they twitched in agitation.

  “The Future Stone has belonged to the women of my family for generations to prophesy and to foretell their lover,” the princess told a wizened old woman sitting against a masonry wall. “Zan, the prince of elves, is only marrying me to get his hands on my stone. To unite the kingdoms, my father is going along with it.”

  Tamarilla stopped pacing and stared wistfully at the flawless emerald, yearning for a vision of a young and handsome leman. With a heavy sigh, she straightened her shoulders and put away the dreams of youth. Her lips, likened by many to rose petals, thinned into a straight line. “Zan will not use it for good, can’t my father see this?”

  Her heart thudded against the wispy confines of the gown she wore, as if it would tear free of her body and fly away from the restrictions of royalty. She sighed at the fanciful thought then turned to the old woman. “I know my destiny is to marry Zan, that I will never have true love. I have foreseen it in the stone. I accept it. With royalty comes responsibility. But how do I protect the stone for the women of my family who are to come? Hundreds of years from now my descendants will be mortal. The fairy line will die out. I have seen this too in the stone. Somehow, I must keep it safe for them, safe from Zan.”

  She knelt beside the woman who, in Tamarilla’s seventeen years of life, had been her nurse, teacher and wisewoman. She put her head in the old woman’s lap. “What shall I do, Nimue?”

  Nimue touched the glittering strands of hair that fell like sheaths of gold over her faded purple skirt. “Be brave little one and embrace your destiny with dignity. Zan is not a bad elf. But he is a male. And they all have their failings.”

  The old woman stood and raised the princess to her feet. “Get up child. I will protect the stone for your line.”

  “How?”

  “Watch,” the nurse commanded, in a voice she had never used before. Electricity fairly crackled around her.

  The princess could feel her eyes widen as Nimue stretched out her arms, pointed her long bony fingers at the stone and began to chant:

  “Stone of light, stone of wealth,

  May the seed of this child’s future dwell.

  Only Women of her line

  May see their true love in their time

  Exception of the spell is this

  The Chosen’s mate shall know stone’s bliss.”

  As Nimue chanted a mist began to form in the room, purple and blue swirls of smoke danced through the chamber. The mist thickened. It formed and reformed, swirling faster and faster, until it settled around the stone.

  Outside, the sky grew dark as a wild green and black storm rolled in. Loud booms of thunder shook the room. A brilliant bolt of lightning shot through the open window. Like a thrown spear, it cut through the purple-blue mist, straight to the emerald.

  Then all became still.

  Tamarilla blinked and crossed her arms to control the trembling that shook her body.

  From outdoors, she heard the tentative chirp of a wren. She glanced at the window, surprised to see sunlight once more pouring through. The black and green fury of the storm magically dissipated, being replaced by fluffy white clouds and a soft blue sky.

  The purple and blue mist blanketing the room dissolved.

  The princess looked at the table and froze as fear and shock coursed through her. The Future Stone was gone!

  In its place sat a green crystal ball.

  “What have you done? Where is my emerald?” she cried.

  “I was once the lover of the great Merlin himself. He taught me much magic,” the old nurse explained. “Your Future Stone is safe. Look closely at the crystal.”

  Frightened, the princess forced herself to approach it. She reached her hand out stopping just inches from the beautiful orb.

  “Go ahead,” Nimue urged her. “It knows your touch like a lover’s.”

  Tamarilla leaned forward and traced its surface with her index finger. Her eyes widened and she smiled then encircled it with both hands, throwing her head back, arching her neck and closing her eyes in ecstasy. As she held the stone, colors inside it began to swirl with a life of their own.

  Feeling the globe pulsing in her hands, the princess opened her eyes and gazed in wonder as the swirls formed a pattern and the pattern became a child, a child that looked exactly like her.

  Nimue’s voice was gentle. “Yo
u will never know the wild excitement that comes from carnal knowledge of your one true love, but you will know contentment and love of a child that is purer than the love of a man. Your life will not be a maelstrom of passion but you will know quiet fulfillment. You and your king will reign in peace for many years. And that is a better legacy than many are given.”

  The princess studied her offspring. “And my beautiful child?”

  Nimue smiled and said, “She will know love and passion. She will have a good life.”

  Tamarilla tapped her shell-pink fingertips against the crystal. In its center lodged the emerald known as the Future Stone. “And this?”

  “It shall be as you wished. Passed down from generation to generation to the women in your family, who will see their true love in the stone.”

  “And if it’s stolen?”

  “It will find its way home.”

  “What if the globe is broken and the stone stolen?”

  “No one, not even a family member, can break through the protective orb.”

  Tamarilla watched it, fascinated. “What about women outside my family?”

  Nimue laughed. “Oh, child you were always one for questions. Only those of your direct line, those that mingle their blood with that of your direct line, or the children added by love to your line—the chosen ones—or their mates will ever be able to see the magic contained in the globe. Now come, it is time for the engagement ball.”

  Chapter One

  Springfield, IL, April 2004

  The wind keened and rain blew down in liquid sheets. Gabriella Bell clapped her hands over her ears and blinked as thunder boomed and lightning lit the sky.

  She had forgotten her umbrella, again. Head down, she turned the corner and ran full tilt into the arms of a stranger.

  “I’m sorry,” Gabby mumbled into an expensive, camel-colored raincoat, her nose pressed against a hard chest.

  She felt long arms wrap around her, steadying her. For a brief moment the clean smell of rain mingled with the scent of expensive aftershave and crisp cotton, before the man gripped Gabby’s upper arms and thrust her away, holding her at arm’s length.

  Icy green eyes, colder than the wind whipping her hair about, stared into her own. His rain-darkened hair was drawn back in a ponytail and beads of water glistened on his coat.

  “May I suggest you watch where you are going?” The stranger stared down his nose at her, his voice brusque, his manner arrogant. Letting her go, he walked away.

  Gabby stared after him, as he wove through the throng of pedestrians with the lithe grace of a cat. Still feeling the heat of his hands, Gabby rubbed her forearms as she watched him disappear into a sea of umbrellas.

  Determined to forget the whole unsettling encounter, she wiped the rain out of her eyes and looked around. A small store with a purple awning was just a few yards away.

  Seeking shelter, she made a dash for it.

  Reaching the awning, Gabby pushed past a couple standing under it waiting out the storm. She grasped the cool brass door handle and stepped inside.

  As she took a step forward, her sandals squished. Gabby grimaced at the puddle forming at her feet, stepped back onto a black mat and shook one foot then the other as she glanced around. She’d stepped into one of the popular little novelty shops that lined Main Street. Crystals glittered and winked. Pewter moons hung from the ceiling on silver chains.

  Bags of dried plants and herbs lined one wall. She picked up a little plastic bag and sniffed…lavender. Gabby put it back and glanced at the jewelry counter. Stars and pentagrams gleamed against black velvet.

  Starting toward the counter to get a closer look at the jewelry, Gabby paused as she caught a glint of color out of the corner of her eye. Shifting, she craned her neck to see, but the shimmer of color disappeared. Curious, she walked in the direction the flash of green came from.

  A row of black capes blocked her view. She pushed them aside and stared into the shadowy corner. Hidden in the gloom, was a sea-green crystal ball. It stood in solitary splendor on an antique claw-footed stand.

  She took a step forward and ran her index finger along its smooth surface. The globe felt toasty warm against her damp skin.

  Drawn, she splayed her fingers until her palms nestled around it. A delicious wave of heat ran through her, like sitting in front of a crackling fire on a cold winter night. Ecstasy coursed through her body.

  Transfixed, she watched the glowing green crystal change to blue, its hues dancing and sparking like moonbeams on the water.

  The crystal pulsed beneath her hand.

  By degrees, the feeling of warmth disappeared…and fear crept in.

  Her breath hitched in her throat as the color in the crystal fell away and a face formed. Its blurred outline moved back and forth, wraithlike and then sprang into sharp focus.

  She felt the color drain from her face, as her nerveless fingers dropped from the ball. The face in the globe belonged to the hard-eyed stranger she’d bumped into outside the shop, only moments before.

  Taking a quick step back, she jostled against the row of hooded capes, knocking them over. One of her heels caught in the slippery velvet. As she threw out an arm to catch herself, she hit one of the pewter moons hanging from the ceiling. The momentum of her hand sent it clanging in a cacophony against another, setting off a chain reaction as she sat down abruptly in a pile of black velvet.

  Her breath came out in short sharp gasps, as she tried to disengage herself from the pile of capes.

  “Here, miss, what are you doing?” A myopic young man hurried toward her, his glasses down on his nose.

  “I err, tripped.” Her teeth chattered like castanets. She was not about to admit she’d just had the hallucination of a lifetime.

  With a surprisingly strong grip, the clerk yanked her up. As soon as she was on her feet, the young man dropped her clinging hands and began picking up the capes.

  A long shudder ran down her spine. She cut her eyes toward the crystal. It was once more a calm sea green.

  She rubbed her eyes. Did I imagine it?

  With a hand that had a decided tendency to shake, she pointed toward the crystal. “How do you do it? How does that thing work?”

  The clerk gave her an odd look. Then remembering himself went into his spiel. “When the lunar pull of the moon hits the emerald ball,” he intoned, “it comes together pulling the stress of the day from its beholders.”

  “Hogwash.”

  “You asked.”

  “I’m not talking about your rehearsed stress relieving thing. I’m talking about the other thing.”

  “What other thing?”

  “You know,” Gabby whispered, narrowing her eyes and jerking her head in the direction of the crystal like a bad actor in an espionage film.

  “Oh, the other thing,” he nodded. He looked around and said in a low voice, “I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”

  She frowned, impatient. Mr. Myopic had no clue what she was talking about. It was pretty obvious no one had leered at him from the crystal. “How much?” she heard herself say.

  “Sorry, we’re holding it for someone.” He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose with his index finger.

  No. No one else can have that globe! A wave of panic swamped her. She swallowed it down then batted her baby blues at the clerk and gave him what she hoped was an ingratiating smile. “I’m sure you can get him another one. How much?”

  The clerk’s expression turned crafty. “Five hundred.”

  “Five hundred dollars,” she gasped. “Why I’ve seen the very same thing in catalogues for $39.95.” Well, maybe not exactly the same.

  The clerk crossed his arms and curled his thin lip. “Then order one.”

  Gabby’s shoulders sagged in defeat. The clerk had her and he knew it. “Do you take VISA?” What the hell am I doing?

  But even if she had been hallucinating, she had to have that globe. Regardless of what had caused the phenomena, regardless of the cost, she
wanted that crystal.

  She couldn’t even explain it to herself. For one brief moment, when she held it, the globe had been a part of her, had flooded her brain and coursed through her blood with more intensity than a sexual climax. And then she’d seen the stranger…

  The young man’s smile of triumph jerked Gabby out of her reverie.

  He took the globe and carried it carefully to the front, where he wrapped it in tissue paper covered with silver stars and placed it in a silver box.

  Gabby fumbled in her purse then handed him her VISA, praying to the gods that watched over fools and angels—and there was no doubt as to which category she fell in—that it didn’t exceed her meager credit line.

  He ran her card through then gave her a slip to sign.

  She signed it in a fever of impatience.

  The clerk placed the boxed crystal ball in a shopping bag, marked in purple lettering “Earth Religions” and handed it to her.

  Clutching the bag, she rushed out of the store. The deluge had slowed to a misting rain. Oblivious to the damp, she hurried along the sidewalk gripping her prize.

  The clerk whistled out of tune as the proprietor, a heavyset, balding man, came out of the backroom.

  “Did I hear someone, Albert?” The proprietor reached over and straightened the row of perfectly arranged jewelry.

  “I just sold that old globe your friend brought in for five hundred dollars, Uncle Nigel.” He held up his hand, his manner smug. “I know. You said we were just holding it for him and that was why you put it in the corner where it wouldn’t be noticed. But five hundred bucks! We’ll just give him one of those $19.95 crystals we’ve got in the back and he’ll never know the difference.”

  The man’s color turned ashen. “You did what?” he whispered.

  * * * * *

  Christopher Saint turned his coat collar up and burrowed into it, blinking against the sharp pricks of rain hitting his face and running down the front of his three-quarter length raincoat. He’d found the green crystal.