Bad Luck Titan

A Par Impar Story

Mary Kit Caelsto

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Newsletter CTA

Par Impar Front Matter

Also by

Part 1: Lucky Streak Over

Part 2: Bad Luck Titan

Healing Luck Back Matter

Hidden

Tonic Chords

Songs and Horns

About The Author

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

BAD LUCK TITAN
Copyright © Mary Kit Caelsto, 2019
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Cover Art © 2020

Cover art by My Author Home

Book formatting by My Author Home (http://www.myauthorhome.com)

Electronic Publication Date: July 2020

A previous version of this story was included in a collaborative project; however, this story has been revised to remove any refrences to them.

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

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Also by the Author

Women’s Fiction

Noble Dreams Series

Steady on Course
Standing on Course
Correction on Course
Walking on Course
Course Perfect
Shadbelly Faults
Husband On Board
Double Clear

Riding Double
Rosettes & Rompers
Crossed Rails
International Obstacles (coming soon)

Western Star Series

Spins Are Wild
Turn & Burn
In the Chute
Back In The Saddle

Racehorses & Romance

Racing Home

Fantasy/Magic Realism

World of the Musimagium and Radio Arcana

Hidden
Tonic Chords

Of Songs & Horns

Songs & Paperwork

Chasing Neptune’s Cat

Tempus Magic
The Pegasus Project
Pegasus In Flight
Draco Magus

Radio Arcanum (In the LE Boxed Set Of Steel & Steam April - July 2020)
Racing Luck (in the LE Boxed set Myths & Monsters May - August 2020)

Part 1: Lucky Streak Over

Illegal race tracks looked the same the world over. Some kind of oval scraped into the dirt and starting gates hooked up to a truck or tractor to pull into place at the start of each race. This one happened to be at a long ago abandoned greyhound track at the edge of some town that had been left behind in the rush to the beach. Instead of going back to Nassau when I returned from Greece, I flew into Tallahassee International and rented a car to head somewhere toward Gainesville. I’d know it when I’d found it, and indeed, I was here.

So was he. Dressed in an old plaid blazer that looked like the 1950s called and wanted it back, wrinkled slacks, a hat that would have been properly found in a Perry Mason episode, Iapetus stood with his back to the track, yelling at a horse who looked as if he’d seen far better days to run faster.

I squared my shoulders. Never mind that I saw acts of kindness here. Old trainers, long shut out of the upper echelons of the sport by those with money and fame, patting the neck of horses or whispering words of encouragement to jockeys. A few I recognized as pros who had squandered their good luck. I ignored them.

“Hello,” I said, sliding into an empty spot on the rail just as the horses crossed the finish line. His horse won. I glanced at the race sheet in front of him. He’d been winning--a lot.

“Lady Luck.” He glanced in my direction, then turned back to his race sheet. “Afraid of a little competition?”

“You’re not competition old man. You and your sons thought they could wreak havoc. The father of mankind’s worst ambitions, if my memory serves me.” I longed to laugh and snort, to give him the derision he deserved. I knew better. His age and power clung to him like cheap cologne splashed on too heavily.

Horses loaded into the gate. A bay mare with a star on her forehead caught my eye. Daintier than the geldings and stallions in the race, her jockey, a determined redhead with freckles across her nose, settled herself in the irons. I liked them. I sensed the power, the determination to make a name for themselves no matter the slop in which they’d landed into, and I liked it. I winked at the jockey, though I doubted she saw. The gods did and that was all that mattered.

Iapetus had a leggy gray horse circled on his sheet and it loaded into the gate next to my bay mare. “Care to make a friendly wager?” he asked me.

“What are you thinking of?” The Titan had drawn me here, his winning streak an affront to my gifts of luck and good fortune. He twisted them, using them to sate his appetite for chaos. He worked with Kairos, the God of Opportunity, taking advantage of humans. I found it distasteful. I refused to have Iapetus warp our powers even more. Good fortune meant good will--not greed.

“Your horse wins and I go away. My horse wins and you go away. A simple wager. Nothing more.” He shrugged and gave me his best “be a good little girl and run away now” look. It made my blood crawl.

“I accept.” I took him at his word. I’d pass along the information that I’d see him. If he messed with good luck again, I’d also know and could take further action. Something told me Iapetus probably had a gambling problem.

The final horse loaded into the gate. It stamped its feet, pulling its head into the air and chomping on the bit, anxious to get going. The weight of expectations, of people who had put too much hope onto these horses, bred to run just fast enough to make a few bucks, never to win it big, settled in the air along with the thick humidity. A dog howled from the vicinity of the horse trailers.

The freckled young woman put her head down. She patted the horse’s neck. The gray’s rider sat determined.

I held my breath, trusting my powers of good fortune. It was the Titan standing beside me whom I didn’t trust.

The gates opened. The horses bolted forward. The one on the end bobbled into the horse next to him and they almost went down. They recovered, but not before a black horse shot to the front, then a length behind the gray ran followed by the bay mare. The rest of the field fanned out, clearly not a threat in this race.

The black horse acted like a rabbit, setting a hard and fast pace for the gray horse who clearly liked to chase. The bay mare followed right at the gray’s flank, a nice stalking pace. I liked the way the mare looked, her rider quiet and still on her back. The jockey stared straight ahead, and the way she’d avoided the pile up at the gate only impressed me even more. She seemed to carry some luck of her own and I sensed the favor of Epona upon her. Subtle, and something I doubted Iapetus would have noticed being a greedy man.

“Yes! Run dammit, run!” He whispered the demand, sending it with a push of his Titan energy.

Oh no he wouldn’t. Granted, no rules about deity powers had been made with this wager, just a simple win-lose proposition. The bay mare held her own, and I held my tongue.

They rounded the corner.

Iapetus leaned on the rail, shouting now. The gray’s rider went to the whip. Too soon considering that they weren’t even in the stretch. But two taps sent the big stallion past the fading black horse and into the lead.

“Steady,” I whispered. The bay had energy in reserve. The mare stalked the gray, coming within a neck-length of the lead. “There!” They hit the stretch and I saw the female jockey’s lips move. At this distance I couldn’t see what she said, but it appeared to be something like “now” and I agreed. “Go, baby go!”

The two horses dueled down the stretch, the bay taking the lead by a nose, then by a neck. The gray struggled to catch up; his jockey whipped him hard. Too late, the finish line came and the bay won by half a length.

I turned to Iapetus. “I won.”

“So you did.” He folded the race paper and tucked it into an inner pocket of that hideous plaid coat of his. “There are other tracks, you know. Other places for a man like me with a taste for luck and betting to go.”

“I know.” We were in Florida after all, with numerous horse racing tracks--legal ones--not to mention casinos and resorts. “But you’re not here to play the ponies or a hand of poker, are you?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re trying to steal good fortune. We really don’t care that you’re here making money by screwing with an illegal race track. It’s that you’re upsetting the balance of luck.” Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the horses walk back toward the trailering area. “I have business to attend to.”

His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist as I turned to walk away.

“What are you doing?” I hissed. “Unhand me.”

“We’re going to win. You know that, right? Your silly gift of good fortune isn’t worth anything when I have the Titans on my side. You think you’re high and mighty. You think you rule the world. You don’t and you haven’t had things under control for a very long time.” Iapetus released me.

I resisted the urge to rub my hand or get a bottle of hand sanitizer out and wash his stench away from my skin. “Many tried and many have failed. You’re not worth it and your luck is gone.” I snapped my fingers, then with a bitchy sneer, turned and strode quickly to the trailering area.

I found the jockey giving the mare a rubdown and checking her over for strains. “Excuse me,” I said. “I couldn’t help but admire your riding. You two make a great team.”

The woman turned. I guessed her age to be older than my initial estimations, maybe mid-thirties, and the freckles across her nose matched with the long strands of wavy red hair tumbling from the edges of her helmet. The chin strap swung freely, unhooked, and I caught a glimpse of a wide pink headband poking from beneath the brim.

“Thanks. I’ve had Lady here since she was a yearling. A trainer couldn’t pay me, but gifted me with this filly. We’re going to go places. I’m Brie, by the way. You are?” Brie held out her hand, the palms calloused from working with horses, dirt underneath her well-trimmed nails.

“Tyche.” She shook her hand and in the touch, sensed the presence of Epona and Fortuna upon her. Of course the Celtic horse goddess would have a hand in this lass of Scottish heritage if her red hair was any indication. “I wanted to give this to you.” She handed a business card for Lucky Lady Farms, a venture in which she had a business interest. “We’re always looking for good jockeys and good horses. I think you’d fit in nicely.”

Brie’s eyes widened. “Thank you. I get the feeling this place is going to get raided soon, so I was thinking about heading up north. I really appreciate it.”

“Just take good care of Lady and congratulations on your win. If you’ll excuse me…”

“Yes. Of course. Thank you.” Brie turned back to the horse, and I searched the grounds for Iapetus. He’d gone, just as he said he would.

Not far though, and I took out my phone and composed a text to Minerva. Business has delayed my return to Par Impar. I’ll keep in touch. I won’t be long. I promise.

By the time I reached the parking lot he was gone.

Would you like to read more about the jockey and her horse? Check out Rota at https://marykitcaelsto.com/rota

Part 2: Bad Luck Titan

What was it about someone who was the father of all of mankind’s bad impulses and former greyhound tracks. Instead of returning to Par Impar, I tracked Iapetus to Tampa Poker Room, a former greyhound track, since they’d all finally shut down in the state of Florida. He should have left, gone back to Tartarus or at least quit trying to be a thorn in my side. If Hephaestus wasn’t busy, I would have had him make me a set of cuffs that would have done just that--send Iapetus back to Tartarus. But when I’d texted, he’d apologized and said he was in the middle of something. I understood. He had a lot of technical irons in the futuristic fire these days.

I walked into the poker room. The steady ding-ding of slot machines where little old ladies grabbed the lever and pulled it like a chin hair came from one side. Tables where suited men and bedazzled ladies sat with cards in their hands, piles big and small, of chips in front of them. Had I not been on Iapetus’ trail, I might have wandered around and sprinkled good luck on the pensioners and those with high hopes alike. Sadly, I had business to do.

I saw him at one of the poker tables sitting with his back to me. He’d traded the ugly plaid jacket for a navy blazer and dockers, his black shoes shined to a gleaming hue. The cards in his hand were passable, not a winning hand, but one that would keep him in the game a few more rounds. Three other men, all middling mediocre middle aged management types, played with him. The dealer held the chips, and noticed Iapetus’ pile wasn’t the largest.

“I’ll raise you.” He pushed chips across the table, but with his back blocking my view, I couldn’t see how much.

The man to his right nodded. “I’m in.” He pushed more chips into the growing pile.

A charge of energy, barely perceptible hit the man to the right of him and he frowned, then blinked as if seeing his cards for the first time. “I’m out, damnit.” He put down his hand and crossed his arms over his chest.

The dealer gave cards to the remaining players.

The first man shook his head. “Out, sorry.”

The game remained just between Iapetus and the guy with salt and pepper hair to his right. The one on his left stood and left. I moved just out of Iapetus’ peripheral vision to take the seat when the game ended. Though I tried not to play in other casinos--it never seemed fair with my powers--for this, I’d make an exception.

“I’m in.” Iapetus pushed the last of his chips into the pile.

This would end soon. The man to his right did likewise. “Call.”

Both men flipped over their hands. Iapetus, as I’d suspected by the use of his powers, had the winning hand. We’ll I’d see about that. Putting on my best smile, I slid into the seat next to them. “Starting a new round, gentlemen?” I glanced at both men.

“Sure,” said Iapetus’ opponent. “Always a pleasure to game with a pretty lady. You?” He glanced obviously at Iapetus’ pile of chips, most likely hoping to win a few of them back.

“Well, I, uh--”

“Surely wouldn’t leave. Not when the cards are getting good.” I laid a well-manicured hand on his coat, fire-engine red nails curling against his forearm. “You wouldn’t leave me, now would you? Abandon a lady?” Though I lacked the charms of some of the other Goddesses, I wasn’t without my own fair share, and I did enjoy turning them on to make men squirm. Especially when those men should have been rotting in Tartarus rather than sitting at a Florida poker table.

“Well, I guess I can’t refuse a lady.” The emphasis he put on the term sounded probably gentlemanly to a human ear. I knew what he meant. That I was no lady. And indeed, I wasn’t. I was a goddess, and I was sick and tired of this game of cat and mouse.

I passed my casino card to the dealer. “Why don’t I get $5000 in chips? That should give me a good start.”

The human player’s eyes widened. He swallowed hard, suddenly realizing that he might be in over his depth. Oh, he was. So deep that he might as well be swimming in the Mariana Trench, and yet, I admired him for not getting up and leaving. I might even let him win a hand. Maybe.

The exchange was made and I had the chips in front of me.

“Opening bet is $250,” the dealer said.

I nodded and put the appropriate chip in the center of the table. The others did likewise and the dealer handed us our cards. My hands tingled with a hint of deity energy.

My hand proved playable, quite possibly winnable. When the dealer indicated Iapetus was to go as the winner of the previous hand, he made a modest wager, merely fifty dollars, and accepted a card. The human did likewise and it came to me. I followed suit. We went silently around the table, receiving and discarding cards, upping the wager. I sensed when Iapetus thought he’d had the winning hand.

I smiled and nodded as I accepted my card. Perfect. Exactly what I needed.

Iapetus made a larger wager and the human folded, leaving just the two of us around the table. I upped the wager once more, $250 this time.

“Four of a kind.” Iapetus laid his cards down, and indeed, I saw he had four 9s.

I smiled innocently. “Royal Flush.” I laid my cards down.

“The lady wins!” The dealer pushed the pile of chips over to me.

“No! You had to have cheated. You’re the goddess of good fortune after all.”

I laughed because we were in the presence of mortals, plus the look on his face was priceless.

“Sir, calm down. I was watching the entire time,” the dealer said, reaching across the table.

“You don’t know what she can do.” Iapetus turned to me. “This is the last time.”

“Oh is it?” I reached for him and grabbed his wrist. I turned to the dealer. “My apologies. I couldn’t resist. Keep the chips. This man has violated his parole and needs to return now.” I tightened my grip on his wrist. “Let’s go.”

The dealer stared wide-eyed as I led Iapetus out of the poker room. Luckily, few other patrons paid attention to us, focusing instead on their suddenly winning games. I kept the players occupied until I had taken Iapetus to a dark corner of the parking lot.

“What are you going to do to me now? Send me back to Tartarus?” He sneered down his formerly broken and bulbous nose at me. “Don’t you need a magical portal or something?”

“Nope.” In truth I didn’t know. I hoped that if I focused my goddess powers on him that he’d just pop back to Tartarus, though I honestly had no clue. I also couldn’t exactly call up someone and ask right now. Maybe I should have thought about that before I got myself into this situation.

I focused my energy, my will, the kind of luck dust that I often sprinkled around people or infused into objects on Iapetus. I saw him back in Tartarus, locked behind bars once more. The clang of the cell door, the whoosh of his passing as he was sucked back into place. He remained in front of me and I thought perhaps I did need something.

Send him back, I thought. Go back to Tartarus. Get out of here and go back to where you should be, where you’d been put. I forced the thoughts at him as if they were daggers poking straight into his heart.

His form shimmered. He wavered, as if he were a hologram trying to show himself.

Was it working? I hoped so! Please, please, please go back. Please. My thoughts grew more frantic, more pointed, and I swore I glowed with my god energy. Luck dust swirled around me, around us, as if we were props on the set of the original Star Trek back in the 1960s.

Iapetus blinked out of sight.

I gasped and reached for him in case this was some sort of Titan trick of invisibility or something. It’d been so long I wondered if we really knew what their powers were. I waved my hand through the empty space and the glittery glow around me faded. Whatever had happened must have sent him--somewhere.

I sincerely hoped it was Tartarus. And I so very much wanted to go back to Par Impar.

~* * *~

As soon as the plane’s wheels touched down in Nassau I finally felt that I was well and truly home. Oh, our little homestead outside of Olympus, the place I’d share with Aggie, was lovely. Perfect in all the right ways that a goddess ought to find inviting, and I supposed I should have settled down there.

I couldn’t. I knew it. Talking with Plouto, my sister, knowing she had a place in Brussels, made me only cherish Par Impar even more. This was my home, my shelter, the place where I worked my skills and brought mortals joy the way in which I could.

I took a private car from the airport and stepped onto Par Impar’s manicured grounds once more. The late plane put me here well after most of the main staff would have left for the day. I doubted even Minerva worked this late. I hurried to my villa, pausing to admire my koi beneath the setting moon. Then, I unlocked the door and went inside, left my luggage by the door, reengaged the lock, then went to my bedroom. I washed my face and changed into my favorite nightgown. Tomorrow, I’d talk to Minerva about her vacation and that would no doubt bring its own set of difficulties.

I didn’t care. Releasing a deep sigh of contentment, of finally being in my own bed after an overlong vacation, I simply cherished being home. And somewhere, I knew Aggie was settling down, preparing once more to bless the crops. Each of us, bringing luck into the new year in our own ways.

Healing Luck (Rota Rising Book 1)

A council of goddesses calls a healer, a warrior, a bard, and a monk to fight for them.

When an iguana falls at Sean Mulligan's feet on an unseasonably cold Florida day, he thinks it's interesting, especially since things like that don't happen in Chicago where he'll be returning after his spring break. Unable to leave the animal frozen on the ground, he takes it back to his rental and when the creature wakes up he announces that he's an envoy from the god of healing and Sean needs to come with him.

Arguments of finishing med school or even his lease refuses to sway the iguana, who introduces himself as Hank. To appease him, Sean follows orders and soon finds himself on an uncharted Carribean island and face to face with nine goddesses--all of him want him to heal those who are coming to fight. If he doesn't? He goes back to Chicago and dies as fate intended.

Left with no choice, Sean has to make his way in his new life. His only allies? An iguana named Hank and the goddess Tyche.

Become a Muse Star and get this story and more: https://marykitcaelsto.com/muse-stars/

She's going to have to learn to stay and fight if she wants to protect what she believes in.

Studying for a semester in Costa Rica led clarinetist Tory McRains to stay in the country and make her life there. Things were simpler on her little piece of lowland rain forest with her cabin and playing gigs with her band. Then the Great Dividing occurred and magic was unleashed on the world. Secluded in the rain forest, Tory ended up with enhanced musicianship, a sometimes-sarcastic talking bearded dragon, and membership in a secret amateur radio society designed specifically for supernaturals.

When a stranger approaches her one night after her gig, she learns she's not alone and someone is after her. She'll have to learn to use all the tools at her disposal if she wants to save her rain forest home, because this is one battle where she's not allowed to run.

Learn more at http://marykitcaelsto.com/go/hidden

The lizard was always right. Even now, laying on my chest, his eyes closed in bearded dragon bliss, whatever Pito was thinking, it was right. As for me, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the dappled rays of sunlight through the forest canopy. My skin hummed with the magic of this place. My magic. Pito’s magic. It soothed me and created the little whistle in my mind that gave my lizard his name.

They’re coming, you know. You can’t escape it. Bask in the sun while you can. For soon we will chase. Pito’s sleepy words filled my mind, quite astute for such a little lizard. His mental smirk came through loud and clear.

I knew the truth in his words, had sensed it while I’d been playing the clarinet. When I didn’t lay around in a hammock and talk to my bearded dragon, I played jazz in a local club. Pito often came with me, wrapping himself around my neck and shoulder, loving the hot lights of the stage. I hummed a few bars under my breath and he bobbed his head.

The wind increased, cool outflow from a nearby thunderstorm. I turned my face into the breeze, feeling it whisk away the sweat beading on my forehead. Birds hurried into branches, anticipating the storm. This one came from Mother Nature and I knew it would leave us unharmed. It did mean, however, our time on the hammock had come to an end.

I cupped my hand over Pito so he wouldn’t fall off my chest as I stood and headed for the covered porch next to my small home. I wasn’t quite ready to go inside yet. Being in the rainforest gave me peace of mind I couldn’t get in the city. I had a gig to play tonight and needed all the quiet I could get. Alamar, the sax player in our little group, and I were joining with some Calypso musicians for some improvisation. It’d be fun, but it’d take a lot out of me.

The storm broke overhead, sending ran down in a heavy sheet. I watched it drip from large palm fronds into the fire pit where I often sat in the evenings and off the edges of my roof. A few sheets of tin protected my stone patio from the worst of it, so I stayed a few moments longer, until Pito nudged my shirt in his way of telling me he wanted a heat lamp again. I didn’t blame him. The cool wind made me shiver and I went inside.

I put Pito in his habitat and he immediately crawled onto his rock. Thanks. I was getting chilly.

“Sorry,” I said. I turned to my radio setup in the corner of what passed for my living room. The storm would interfere with signals even though being closer to the equator than my American friends meant I have a lot better luck than they do on open frequencies. It’s also difficult to reach them sometimes, so for that I rely on good old fashioned email. I needed to talk to Ricky in Rio. He had a better lead on things than I did, and he’d been the one to warn me about the threat to my rain forest haven.

I sat down at my rig and scanned the common frequencies Radio Arcanum used. These special frequencies had been set aside by the ITU for use by the God Touched and other paranormal creatures—their words, not mine. I hated being called God Touched. It made me sound special or something. I wasn’t. Just an ex-pat living in Costa Rica with her magical bearded dragon and protecting this little haven of rain forest that connected directly to…whatever it was that made us God Touched. Magical. Rumor had it someone else in the Midwest protected one of these glades that had unicorns living in it. I snorted. Unicorns, now that was crazy.

As far as I knew there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary living in my little piece of paradise. If there were, it hadn’t decided to show itself to me and that was just fine. I liked my privacy and my isolation.

I sat down and checked my email answering a couple that needed attention. Someone wanted to book our band for a gig, so I forwarded that one to Alamar. You really should get out more. Pito’s voice filled my mind. I laughed. Really, he was one to talk living alone in his habitat. He couldn’t even cohabitate with another beardie in case of aggression. Or that’d be the case if he weren’t as magical as me. A conduit to…whatever…yeah, that again. Seriously. You’re going to need allies. They’re closer than you think. I shook my head at the old argument. I’d tried that before; it never ended well. I’d been with my band for nearly three years—the longest I’d stayed with anyone. Then again, I’d been in Costa Rica for seven, choosing to stay after coming over my sophomore year at college for a session studying abroad in Costa Rica. I canceled my return ticket back and never left, transferring to the university in San Jose and finishing my Bachelor’s Degree here. I probably should have made some friends in college, though five years out, who really stays friends with the people they knew back then. Besides, I’d learned early on people only friended me for my name and what they thought my family associations could do for them, never with the intent of getting to know me. Solitude was easy. People were hard.

When I glanced at the time, I needed to get ready. A quick shower and a change, more time than I wanted to styling my short spiky hair and doing enough makeup to pass as stage ready, then I dressed in wide leg black and white pinstripe trousers with a matching vest over a white blouse. I added a chunky belt in bold colors to break up the monochrome palette of my outfit and put in the matching earrings, trading out my usual silver studs for bright coral-esque pieces.

Knock ‘em dead. I’m going to sleep. With that Pito announced his intention not to accompany me tonight. “Sleep tight.” I turned off his lights, grabbed my gig bag and slipped my wallet and cell into a hidden pocket in my vest. I texted Alamar. On my way.

~* * *~

The set lasted nearly until midnight. I squatted and tucked my clarinet away in its case that sat on the floor near a back wall and grabbed a swig of water from my filtered bottle. The music buzzed through my body, making me sense the energy of this place. I liked the club. It sat between two ley lines and they funneled patrons and energy toward us. I tapped into them with a thought, letting off some excess magic. No sense in going home sparking and not being able to sleep until dawn.

“The God Touched usually don’t show themselves so boldly. You must be very gifted if you feel safe doing so,” a dark, male voice said above me.

I stood, not recognizing the man. I didn’t need to wonder how he recognized me. Power rolled from him in waves; no doubt he’d sensed my quick grounding even though I’d been discreet. My first instinct would be to deny the name, dismiss his claims. One look in his eyes told me he wouldn’t take kindly to such foolery. “I don’t believe I’ve met your acquaintance.” I held out my hand. “Tory McRains and if you call me Antonia I’ll punch you. And you are?” I kept my voice sweet, almost saccharine.

“Dewain Barras, and I know who you are, Charlie Romeo Charlie One Five Zulu.”

I glanced around, hoping no one else had heard my call sign. “And you are?”

“Bravo Romeo Echo Five Nine Alpha.” He shook my hand. “Nice to finally meet you face to face.”

“You’ve come a long way if you wanted to see a show. You could have caught one of my shows on YouTube.” I grinned.

“I needed to meet you in person. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

My stomach sank. I knew this was going to be a conversation I didn’t want to have. Pito’s words haunted me. I need allies. I guess that meant Dewain was probably going to be one of them. “Yeah, let me finish here and tell my band mates I’m leaving.” A woman like me probably should have had second thoughts at leaving with a relative stranger from another country. Not everyone was a woman like me. Besides, the call sign he gave was part of Radio Arcanum and that meant something. I sometimes rag-chewed with non-magical people on the regular ham radio bands if I got bored or felt the need for human companionship. Those who liked to make distant contacts always were happy to talk to an English speaker from Costa Rica. It meant they could mark a country off their list and if they wanted, even get a postcard with my call sign on it as proof. I had a clearinghouse handle all of that for me and I had a traditional call sign for when I wasn’t on Radio Arcanum, so no one could tie the two together unless they recognized the voice.

I told Alamar I was going, then bundled my clarinet case back into my gig bag and slung it over my shoulder. Dewain still stood where I’d left him, looking far too put together with polished shoes, dark wash jeans, and a turquoise striped button down short sleeve shirt over a yellow t-shirt announcing a surf shop. I hadn’t heard of it, not that I was much of a surfer, so guessed it was in Brazil.

I stopped next to him. “The bar usually clears out after the band stops, or we could go somewhere else.”

“How late is this place open?”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “How late are you planning on talking?” I sketched a wave to Alamar as he walked by, his saxophone case already strapped to his back. He drove a scooter and didn’t live far.

“This might take a while. If you don’t mind, I know a place.”

At the first sign of things turning funky I planned to leave. I nodded. “Can we walk or do we need to drive?”

“It’s just a few doors down if you don’t mind.”

I thought about putting my gig bag in the car, then decided against it. Sure, nothing had happened in this neighborhood for a while, but I’d be leaving my car here and I wasn’t taking any chances. My clarinet was my baby. I’d had it since I’d started college, a real professional model, and I didn’t want to lose it. I followed him out the side door and onto the street where young couples were going to and from various restaurants or bars. Dance music pumped from a nearby building with brightly lit neon signs and swirling lights. I let the music put a sway in my step.

A few buildings down, he nodded to the doorman in front of Rojo Bruha, who let us pass without a second look. There wasn’t a line, but I bet there had been earlier in the evening. We no sooner had stepped into a multi-tiered venue where I suspected a mixture of musical styles were played, the band currently playing reggae, when a tall woman with long red hair wrapped up with a scarf came over and clasped Dewain on the shoulders.

“What have you brought me?” She asked in a bright Scottish accent, then looked me over. “Is this the one you were telling me about?”

“Tory this is Sorcha Maclughlin. She owns this venue.”

Sorcha didn’t reach out her hand and I didn’t offer one. Most of us in the magical community knew better than to go around shaking hands with strangers. I’d just been being a bit of a bitch when I’d offered mine to Dewain. Refusal wasn’t taken well. “I’m sure we’ll be getting to know each other.”

I sensed…I didn’t quite know what I’d sensed, but it was as if someone were testing my abilities. My shields usually kept people at bay. Perhaps the name of this place had some meaning behind it. I hadn’t dealt with witches before, but from what I’d heard, I didn’t want to.

“Mind if we use the naranja room?”

“It’s empty. I’ll put the word out that it’s in use. If you need anything, you know how to call me. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go mingle with the party that just came in.” She smiled, inclined her head in my direction, then hurried upstairs to the balcony that ran the circumference of the room.

“This way. It’ll be quieter,” he said, cupping my elbow and guiding me around the edge of the main level until we reached an orange door. He opened it and led me inside.

The room had to be soundproofed because none of the music from the floor filtered in, though I saw speakers set up in the corners and a small control panel so we could tune into the musicians if we wanted. I sat on one of the black chairs. The tile on the floor was orange and black flecked stone or marble, most likely artificial, and with the orange walls and black table and chairs, and black leather coverings on the bench which ran along three walls, it was like being in some strange Halloween-land. “So what’d you want to talk to me about? And why here?”

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Tory McRains thinks learning how to be a good Musimagia and following their rules would keep her out of trouble. She agrees to teach Alamar how to play the saxophone as a way to atone for her sin of accidentally wiping his mind, and his ability to play music. A local homeless man, Diego, reveals that he's a Mad Bard, which leaves Tory wondering if she has yet one more group of musical magic wielders to worry about, and when the giant anaconda guardian of her rainforest, whom local folklore calls Mother, reveals herself, well Tory realizes she's in deeper than she ever imagined.

Add in increasing magical attacks, the fact that Alamar isn't living in a hostel like she thought, and the fact that the danger stalking the rain forest is now coming from within the Musimagia organization.

Tory knows one thing. She's sick and tired of getting cryptic messages from those who wish to use her power as her own. It's time for her to take a stand, not just for her own life also but for the future of her rainforest home and those closest to her.

http://marykitcaelsto.com/go/tonicchords/

Chapter One

If I’d wanted to go back to school, well, I would have gone. I wasn’t a stranger to learning. I loved school. What I didn’t love was this feeling of propaganda being shoved down my throat. My gigs had become pretty much nonexistent since Alamar had been well, wiped. Whoops. I hadn’t meant to destroy his memories, all of them including the ability to play the saxophone. I stared at the instrument, purchased off of some kind of Radio Arcanum eBay-lite program, in my lap. The clarinet I knew. Remembered fingers, tips, tricks, embouchure, even the way it felt to work my way from beginner to intermediate books. If I were to teach Alamar how to play again, I had to figure this thing out myself.

You’re not going to honk again are you? You’re not a bird. Pito poked his head from the sling I wore across my front to hold him against me. With the stranger in the house, never mind that Hazel had been here for four weeks and I still considered her the interloper, Pito preferred to hang out with me whenever possible. I didn’t blame him. We had to band together. Especially since one wrong move on my part could have my music and magic ability stripped from me.

I tried not to laugh. Since Hazel had arrived, laughter seemed like I was having too much fun, not taking this seriously. We sat down for two hours every afternoon to go over the books, starting with The History of the Musimagia, as if I were some kind of elementary student. Not even my college instructors had talked down as much to me. I suspect she wanted me to learn just how serious this was, how close I’d come to having everything taken away. I knew it. I also knew that I’d had to do whatever it took to protect my haven, my node as I was learning to call it. And honestly, if I had it to do all over again, I would. No questions asked. Not even the part about wiping Alamar’s mind.

Dewain had gone back to Brazil. Armis business he’d said. I didn’t like it, not when Hazel and I had fended off two minor attacks while Dewain spoke about a group, Aquari Testimoni, who may or may not be a branch of Noctis. Apparently no one in the Musimagia hierarchy knew either. Only that they’d infiltrated some of the Auxiliaries and Musimagia operations in the US and had started overseas. Nothing here in Central or South America, but then again, one thing I’d learned about being an ex-pat was that mostly the big players ignored us unless we could prove to be useful. Still, Dewain kept his ear to the ground and I was allowed on Radio Arcanum to get information. Sometimes.

Hazel was moving around in the living room. Not her daily tai chi practice; she did that outside on the back patio. No, this was most likely setting up another exercise for me. Yay, me.

She is helping you hone your skills. You should be more appreciative.

I frowned at the lizard cuddling against me. If he weren’t so cute, I might—

No you wouldn’t. You need me.

I did. I admit it. A discordant note of magic drew my attention, nothing from inside the house. I set the saxophone on my bed. I’d figure it out later, and ignored the laugh that Pito gave in my mind. Hey, I’d pretty much self-taught myself a lot of the clarinet. The YouTube videos I’d watched made saxophone seem not that much harder. At the moment it didn’t matter. Not when something wasn’t right. Out of reflex, I held my hand over Pito as I stood and went to my bedroom door.

I opened it to find Hazel sitting down on the floor, feet pressed together, bent forward as if she were in child’s pose. Except, I didn’t think so, and when I glanced outside the sun shone, so it wasn’t like she couldn’t do yoga outdoors, her usual location. I opened my mouth to speak. She held up her hand in the universal gesture for quiet. I knew then, she sensed it too.

I stood for a long moment staring at her, then decided this might require my going outside, so I took Pito back to his habitat. He scurried up to his log with a mental thanks and began to bask. By the time I closed the glass door and turned, Hazel had stood.

“Check the defenses,” she said, and I knew this wasn’t a training exercise, though we’d started many with those words.

I closed my eyes and sensed along the barriers I’d placed along the perimeter of my cottage and the yard, then reached into the rain forest to follow trails and check various points that Dewain had helped me place for a secure perimeter. There, not next to the node, but rather close to the road, something lingered. I wouldn’t have called it malevolent or even dangerous. Certainly it wasn’t right. I turned to Hazel and her gaze met mine.

“Should we—”

She held up her hand, stopping me from asking my question. For a moment I stood there confused. Maybe I wasn’t meant to ask, that knowing was part of my training and I ought to have known what we should do by now. So I closed my eyes and followed the source of the oddness until I realized it was a person, someone I didn’t know—I’d gotten better at remote sensing individual people—and it seemed as if their thoughts were jumbled. A homeless person. I knew now, because I remembered seeing him. I actually thought he might live closer to the main road in the lean-to I’d seen there. He’d never come this far before, though I’d often seen him scavenging along the road, perhaps even hunting. A moment later I realized he was coming here.

My eyelids flew open and I stared at Hazel. Had she done something to call him? She knew how much I valued my privacy.

“This isn’t my doing,” she said. “I know of him because I’ve made it a point to make contacts as I’ve gone into town. It’s vital after what happened that we know who everyone is.”

And what side they’re on. The unspoken words, especially with the arrival of the Aquari Testimoni, hung between us. It wouldn’t do me any good to ask why he was here and what he wanted because we didn’t know. I wasn’t that good of a reader, not yet. Deciding it was better to face the danger head on, I opened the door and stepped outside. I paused, expecting Hazel to follow me, she didn’t, and that made me wonder if this were some kind of a test.

I stopped about ten feet in front of my house and waited. When I focused on him, I sensed him growing closer, his agitation growing. I heard him, before I saw him, his muttered words under his breath as if he were having an argument with someone. “Mad bard. Mad bard.” He kept repeating the phrase over and over again. I’d heard about the Mad Bards in my history book. They were a splintered group of the Musimagia who thought that the magic should be much more tied to the natural world rather than run by councils and hierarchies. They hated the pomp and circumstance of the Musimagia and frankly, I didn’t blame them.

I recognized his shuffling gait and long, knotted black hair. Not quite dreadlocks, but possibly needing a comb, a long blue denim coat that seemed incongruous with the rain forest weather, but maybe it was all he had, and a pair of jeans and black boots with holes in the toes. He held a sack that must have contained his worldly possessions. I didn’t see an instrument or any other evidence he could have powers. Yet, my history books told me the Mad Bards did have the same powers we did.

“Hello,” I called and waved what I hoped was cheerfully when he approached. “How are you?”

He grunted and walked forward half a dozen more steps, then stopped. “Need permission to come closer.”

I would have made a vampire crack, except lore said they needed permission to come into houses and I didn’t want to find out if they were real or not. Heck, if a talking bearded dragon were real, then vampires might be too. I realized I was staring and nodded. “As long as you don’t mean any harm,” I said in what I thought was a joking tone of voice.

“Girl, if I’d meant to harm you it would have been done. You’re new.”

Yeah, I was pretty used to that. Around here if you weren’t born in the jungle then you were a transplant, and the newness never wore off, especially if you’d started out as an American. “Thanks,” I replied. “Can I help you with something?”

“This place you’re guarding. It’s pretty special,” he said as he came forward. “You have help here but they want to bend you to your rules. I’m here to offer another way.”

Well this would have been nice a few months ago. I bit back the retort that came to my lips. He’d just arrived, and until now I’d thought he was just a crazy old guy, not anyone who could have helped. I suspect that probably said more about my privileged American upbringing than it did about him. “I’m not sure I can take another way,” I said and sensed, rather than heard, Hazel moving behind me. The rules were simple. I had to learn how to be a good little Musimagia and follow the rules or I lost everything. “I’m sorry.”

“You always have choices. She just didn’t tell you that.” He looked behind me as I heard the door open and Hazel stepped out onto the front porch. I moved a bit to make room for her. “You Musimagia think you have all the answers, that your rules make you civilized. Instead, you topple and steal like the white men who came to our shores so many centuries ago. Your rules are the smallpox that wipes out creativity and joy. You create lassos of power and snare the unwilling like our young girl here. You will not win.”

“We’ll see about that,” Hazel said and laid her hand possessively on my shoulder.

I kept quiet. Not that I was sure it was the right thing to do because I knew what it made me look like, a weak person who couldn’t stand up to a single member of the Musimagia. The fear in my veins made me leery of doing anything to rock the boat. I swallowed hard. “Can I know your name?”

“Diego,” he said. “My name is Diego, Tory.” He spoke the words aloud, as if he’d recently just rediscovered the simple fact of his name. “The vipers no longer pump me full of chemicals just to make me appear like them. I talk to the spirits and the trees tell me that you are on dangerous ground. That the path you think will bring safety will bring anything but. I came here to warn you, should you decide to hear it.”

Hazel’s fingers tightened on my shoulder, and I got the impression she knew far more than she’d let on. “Thank you,” I said, thinking that was probably the safest and the most polite response. I curdled inside. I hated giving the safe answer, the one that was designed to keep me out of trouble. That reminded me too much of my childhood, of what you do when you’re the daughter of wealthy people. “I know where to find you if I have more questions,” I added, thinking that, too, shouldn’t raise any ire. He lived between me and the main road. Of course I knew where to find him. Never mind that one of my first questions would be, if he’d known about me, why had it taken him so long to reach out. Because if he’d come to me sooner, there’s a good chance I wouldn’t be in this position.

http://marykitcaelsto.com/go/tonicchords/

Left for dead when the Great Dividing happened, Olivia Santos retreated to her small southern Ohio acreage and her horses, including her longtime companion, Lady. Her home also hides a magical node, one whose energy supports a small herd of unicorns. As their guardian, she vows to protect them at any cost.

A series of magical attacks on the node come from a rogue group within the Musimagium, one that wants to destroy the node and send the unicorns back to the magical realms from which they come for good.

Olivia refuses to let that happen and when she discovers the group is backed by her old boss—the one who left her for dead—she’s forced back into the world of Armis and the Musimagium. They almost killed her once. Lady fears it will happen again.

But Olivia has no choice and thankfully she’s not alone. Even with help, she knows if she can’t stop the attacks, she won’t live long enough to protect those she loves.

https://books2read.com/ofsongsandhorns

Chapter One

Looking out my east window to see unicorns frolicking by the bird bath never ceased to amaze me. After four years of guardianship of both the herd and the magic portal they protected, I ought to have gotten used to the sight. I hadn’t. Beyond them were the fifteen acres of my horse pasture, just starting to turn lush and green with the arrival of spring. Lady, my gray mare who’d been the schoolmaster tasked with taking me through three levels of dressage, grazed next to her gelding buddy Danny. Shadow, a horse I’d rescued a year ago from a bad situation, grazed not too far away, growing bolder now that he’d realized that there’d be no pain here. His black and white splashes appeared like an abstract artwork against the impressionist painting the others appeared to be through the rain-streaked glass of the window.

They’re worried. Lady’s voice filled my mind, and that too, still startled me, though it’d come right after the Great Dividing. Something isn’t right.

A lot wasn’t right. I didn’t extrapolate. Lady didn’t care about the ills of the world, only her connection to the unicorns who didn’t talk to people, not even those of us with the power. I may not be a member of the Musimagium, but I could have been had I wanted to be. I didn’t. For a great many reasons. I know, I told her. I’m not seeing anything.

I lifted the silver flute to my lips and blew a few experimental notes until I gave into the music flowing through my veins. Today’s tune was a variation on Bach’s Partitia in A Minor, and I suspect it bore only a passing resemblance to that original work. The complicated fingerings tested my skill and concentration. I sensed Lady hovering in the back of my mind, and suspected if I looked out the window, her tail would be swishing in tune to my music. Oh we’d danced, my old gray lady and I. We’d danced. Now, I played and she savored her retirement.

Movement outside the window forced my attention to falter. The unicorns bolted, racing back into the woods that surrounded what I believed to be the source, and a portal, to connect to…something. A malevolent presence swept across her sanctuary and I shivered hard enough that the flute tumbled from my hands to bounce on the carpeted floor. I muttered under my breath and picked up the instrument, quickly checking it for any damage. I set it on the music stand and went to the window. What had just happened?

The unicorns were gone. Lady stood at attention in the pasture staring off to the south as if something had caught her attention. Shadow and Danny stood nearby, also keeping watch. I would have dismissed it as deer—they startled the horses all the time—except for the evil that had crossed my senses. I didn’t like it. I caught Lady’s eye through the window and she gave a sharp nod of her head. Go check it out. I didn’t need to hear the words to know that was exactly what she wanted me to do.

I slipped my feet into heavy boots and grabbed a light jacket, the days weren’t that warm yet. Snagging my hiking stick from its place near the front door, I slid a small piccolo into the sleeve on my staff that would hold it. I had no idea what I’d need and I’d learned early on to be prepared. I stepped outside.

A stiff breeze buffeted me, whipping my long hair and threatening to pull it free from the braid that contained it. The jacket might not be enough as icy tendrils of wind darted down my collar and across the nape of my neck. Hurry! The sense of urgency came not from Lady, though she still stood guard, but from the forest and the unicorns. I darted off my front step and followed the path that led into the woods, my dread growing with each passing moment. Something was still out there. The trees grew thicker along the path, and I held up my arm and staff, as if they could bend them away. Normally I’d sing, expend a little magic, and the trees would listen. Not today. Not when I might need that power for something else.

I reached the clearing, pushing through the last few branches nearly at a dead run. Normally I approached the unicorns carefully, slowly, certain that any move would startle them. How or why they chose me as their guardian, I didn’t know. No one ever said. When the Great Dividing was over I had what could only be described as a magical power source sitting in the middle of my woods and a herd of seven unicorns. When I stopped, I only counted six.

And then I saw the six unicorns stood not just around the stone, but also the fallen body of the seventh. I searched, frantically, thankful to see the shallow rise and fall of the creature’s sides. It still lived.

Moved to do something, I asked, “may I?” I bowed my head reverently and waited for a sense of wary acceptance. It took a moment for me to register that the unicorns had stepped back enough to allow me to pass since I’d never been this close to them before, and I dropped to my knees next to the creature’s head. Its eye was closed, nostrils tinged red with whatever exertion had caused this. I dare not touch it, feared defiling such a beautiful and magical creature with my action. For a moment I closed my eyes and reached out to Lady. What should I do?

A sense of sorrow at not knowing came back. Play?

Of course. I pulled the piccolo from its holder and brought it to my lips. Immediately a piece sprang to mind, the overture from Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries. I played the opening notes, wishing magical strength to flow to the creature. Not from me or any living creature, but perhaps from the stone, from the portal, and from the earth itself. The best I knew, my property lay next to this major node, and though I didn’t speak about my unicorns, I knew others had experiences with mystical creatures near their nodes.

After about ten minutes the creature’s eye fluttered open. It lifted its head and regarded me with a long stare of that impossibly blue eye, then, it rolled to get its legs beneath it, and a moment later, stood and shook itself. I hurried back, the notes only faltering just a bit. My marching band training had kept me nimble, the classical orchestra I’d played with before the Great Dividing giving me a large repertoire of music.

The unicorn walked up to me and touched its muzzle to my chest. Thank you, Olivia. The other members of the herd bowed, then moved deeper into the woods.

I stood, only aware my hands shook when I went to put the piccolo back in its holder. Whatever had just happened seemed disjointed in my mind, though the music, and the magic, lingered. I stared at the stone, startled when I saw a black line creep from the base. That couldn’t be good. Whatever had caused it had also injured one of the unicorns and I…I was completely out of my depth to deal with it. We need help, I told Lady, then turned and went back to the house.

Once inside, my piccolo wiped down and put back on the shelf next to the door for easy reach, I sat down at my ham radio rig. If anyone knew what might have happened, or had felt it, then Radio Arcanum would be the place to look. I listened for the frequency to be clear. “Listening USK15J.” I spelled out my call sign with the phonetic alphabet. Uniform. Sierra. Kilo. One. Five. Juliet.

A moment later a man responded. “USK15J. This is USLMUM. You okay out there?”

I paused. I knew the call sign, though not the person behind it. That he was Musimagia I’d guessed from previous conversations. Which meant I didn’t know how much I could trust him. “Fine. Some turbulence. That’s all.”

“Pretty rough turbulence from what we measured. Knocked out three of our best over at the Akron auxiliary. You sure you’re okay?” The voice sounded worried. I was flattered.

“I think so,” I replied honestly. I wasn’t into macho positioning just to be macho. I also wasn’t much into lying. “Interesting things I’d like to speak with someone about on a private channel.” There. I’d danged that bait into the water.

“Copy that. Someone will be in touch. USLMUM signing off.”

“Understood.” I gave the usual sign off, including my call sign, and shut down my radio. The memory of the dark line through the stone, the node stone I’d been calling it, though I didn’t know if it had any specific name, worried me. The unicorn lying on the ground worried me more. A direct attack? Someone trying to leech energy out of the ley lines and not knowing what they were doing? My main computer sat next to the radio and I logged the contact in my electronic log, then opened up a blank document to start typing what I knew.

Could I even trust USLMUM’s contact? Probably not. I knew better than to trust any member of the Musimagium. The ends justify the means, after all, and it doesn’t matter who gets hurt. Sure, that’s not what the brochures and the propaganda said, but if they got orders— I refused to let my thoughts go down that path. Instead, I channeled my nervous energy outside, haltered Lady, and began to brush her.

She leaned into my strokes, eyes closed, lips slack as she released a sigh. I found the sweet spot just behind her withers and gave it the hard kind of brushing she enjoyed, then switched to a body brush and went over her coat until she shone. Still not quite settled, I brushed out her mane and tail, appreciating the time spent outdoors now that the wind had died down. Or maybe it was just the sense that something, whatever, was out there had gone and left us, alone. I sighed and relaxed along with my mare.

Stay vigilant. It’s gone for now. Even Danny sensed it and he’s dull.

I smiled. Lady’s disdain for the big, dopey appaloosa gelding was well known. She made her feelings very clear, though she tolerated him around the hay bale. The big guy had been a rescue, a foal that had come from the auction barn who looked as if he’d be a beautiful prospect once Lady slowed down. But then she kept going and the gelding proved to be an idiot, and they both ended up retired together. I loved my horses, and when the Great Dividing had happened, they’d saved me. Literally. The Musimagium hadn’t—

You’re thinking again. Go check your email. As if she needed to punctuate her words, she turned her head and pushed me.

“Okay. I get it.” I grabbed the brushes and put them away. “Check my email. Don’t judge the Musimagia who shows up until I get a chance to meet this person. Maybe it won’t hurt to give the benefit of the doubt.”

Lady snorted and I knew she thought that was as realistic as I did. Hey, at least I tried. I carried the grooming bucket to the barn and slid it back onto the shelf. I turned and a wave of energy hit me. I staggered, going down on one knee, hitting the concrete floor hard. I winced, then reached for something as the world lurched beneath me. The unicorns!

Aren’t anywhere near the node. They’re riding this out.

I breathed a sigh of relief, and wondered if their riding this out was as bad as mine. Probably not. They were creatures of magic and had four legs on the ground, not two. I drew a deep breath and the push of energy receded. I pushed myself to my feet, then took a few moments to steady myself.

You all right?

Yeah. I’m fine. I sent the thought back to Lady, ignoring my smarting knee and my shattered nerves, and headed back into the house.

Good. Oh and the unicorns say thank you.

https://books2read.com/ofsongsandhorns

About The Author

Mary Kit Caelsto never grew out of the phase of being a "horse crazy girl". Though she's now over 40, she's finally fulfilling her dream of writing equestrian books for others who haven't grown out of being "horse crazy". She lives in the Ozarks with her four very spoiled and very opinionated horses, as well as a large flock of poultry and enough cats to qualify her as a crazy cat lady. Her husband, though not an equestrian himself, understands and supports all her equestrian dreams.

She's convinced three of the best things in the world are the smell of a sun warmed horse, the smell of leather tack, and making sure to hug her horses every single day.

Picture of the author and “SuperDuck” taken 3/2019. Hair color varies depending on mood.

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