The Realm

Chapter 3

Before she could scream or even think of moving, something pushed her aside a moment before the large chandelier crashed and shattered. Samantha ducked her face as candle stubs went flying along with shards of wood.

Holy moly. Talk about close, she thought, lying on the floor shaken and stunned. She looked up to thank whoever pushed her out of harm's way but there was no one nearby. Brow creased in confusion, she craned and saw Sinclair standing with a frown on his face down the hall.

"Are you all right?" he asked as he approached. He held out a hand to help her up.

"I'm fine, I think." She grasped the outstretched hand and noted she stood in a circular area miraculously free of debris. "I'm more surprised, than hurt. Something pushed me out of the way."

"Well if I hadn't, you'd now be dead, squashed flat by that chandelier," he replied nonchalantly.

"You didn't push me. You were all the way over there."

"Not physically. I used magic," he said waggling his fingers at her, grinning.

"Sure you did."

"You still doubt?"

Hmm, it didn't seem prudent to argue too much with the big man convinced he could do magic, not when she'd yet to see anybody else in this place. "Thank you, I guess." She changed the subject. "Why did the chandelier fall?"

Sinclair walked over to the splintered mess and knelt down, his brows furrowing as he stared at the pieces on the floor. Craning, he scrutinized the broken length of chain still swinging from the ceiling. "It would seem the chain snapped. The chandelier is fairly old and was already a part of the castle when I took up residence. I guess it was just bad timing on your part that you were walking under it when it decided to let go."

Samantha watched his face as he gave her the explanation and couldn't shake a niggling doubt that perhaps there was more to it than that. But then again, who would try to kill her?

"I hope your mishap hasn't ruined your appetite as I was coming to escort you to lunch." Sinclair distracted her when he linked her hand through the crook of his arm and led her into the dining room.

How about dining hall? With its huge, wooden table simply decorated with silver candles surrounded by a dozen, ornately carved, wooden chairs, the room seemed better suited for large dinner parties than a small lunch for two. Or am I assuming too much? Perhaps she wasn't the only person who'd arrived on the island by accident. "How many other people live here?" she asked as he guided her to a seat at the left of the head of the table.

"Just me, and now you, of course," he said, gently sliding her chair under her as she sat.

Samantha blinked, surprised by this gallantry. Most men she'd dated eschewed such social niceties. But to be fair to the men she'd gone out with, most fast food joints had their chairs bolted to the floor, as if someone would steal a red and yellow chair.

Their lunch was served by more of the green creatures, all of whom bore a happy mien, or at least she assumed they did judging by their big smiles. The lunch consisted of soup served with crusty bread for dipping and a platter of sliced cold meat and cheese. Samantha ate and found herself pleasantly surprised. The thick broth tasted fantastic and made her taste buds tingle. If she could cook, this was definitely a recipe she'd want. But the food, good as it was, offered no match for the lure of Sinclair. In between sips and bites, she sneaked glances at him.

He really was gorgeous, even when eating. Watching his lips close around a piece of cheese, something he managed to make look hot and sensual, Samantha felt a tingle. Ooh, to have those lips touching her. Cute kittens, cute kittens, she started repeating in her head, trying to push away the naughty direction of her thoughts. She really needed to get a grip on her hormones and the best way to do so was to get busy.

"After lunch I want to get familiar with your library and its filing system. Do you follow the Dewey Decimal system?" Samantha asked. At his puzzled look she continued. "Most libraries have a filing system. The one I work in uses the Dewey Decimal, but others will arrange the books into types and then alphabetically by author. If I know what system you use then it will make it easier for me to find the books needed for the research."

"Yes, well, the library may have had some method of organization when I took over the castle, but I'm afraid I didn't know what it was and didn't maintain it," he admitted with a wry grin. "I tend to just grab a book that looks promising at random and when done, I stick it back in the first spot that's open."

"Oh my," she exclaimed. "I see I'll have my work cut out for me. Well, I'll work on fixing that then, because having an organized workspace will make the research much easier for both of us. Now I am pretty sure you don't have any computers, right?" His blank look answered her. "I kind of figured that. Do you have some kind paper or pen I can use to take notes? And do you mind if I use the table in the library for my work? Also, are there any particular books you want me to keep an eye out for?"

Sinclair just stared at her as if bemused, and she fidgeted a bit under his perusal. As usual when uncomfortable, she pushed her glasses so they perched high on her nose.

He cleared his throat. "Um, you can use the library table and I will have some paper and pens sent there. Keep an eye out for curses. They might hold the key to unlocking the one trapping me here. If I can figure out what spell she used, I might be able to figure out how to nullify it."

"Curses, right," she replied taking a mental note. How many books on curses could there be?

As it turned out, quite a lot of them, which she discovered after lunch when she returned to the library to start her work. Sinclair had gone off to his workshop - wherever and whatever that might be - to do some research of his own. She was disappointed to see him go, but had to admit she would have found it hard to concentrate with him around, seeing as how his simple presence distracted. He had provided her, though, with the writing implements she'd requested. Some type of thick parchment and something that worked like a pen but looked nothing like her ball points at home.

Samantha started by making several lists, cataloguing the book titles and authors. After browsing the collection, she began to separate the books into five main groups, spells, magical instruction, magical entities, cookbooks - of which there seemed to be an uncommonly large amount - and a group she mentally labeled Unknown. The books in the unknown category were either in languages she couldn't decipher or dealt with too many subjects for her to classify. The one thing this library lacked, surprisingly enough, were storybooks and Samantha wondered if in this world, fictional stories even existed. Or was real life here more exciting than anything put down on paper?

The afternoon hours passed pleasantly as she worked, completely engrossed in her task. Some of the books she came across were absolutely fascinating such as the book on mermaids which had gloriously rendered images of the deadly sirens. Others frightened her a bit, like the spell book that showed how to protect against demons and other entities. The images in that book showed grotesque creatures that she hoped she never ran into. She finally found out that the Martians +were actually called Undines, an aquatic race that could live on the land and in the sea, having both gills and lungs for breathing. Cool. Samantha left that book out so she could read up more on their race - and to make sure they didn't have cannibalistic tendencies or a predilection for eating librarians.

As late afternoon waned, a prickling sensation tickled the back of her neck, as if someone watched. Samantha thought that perhaps one of the Undines might be checking up on her, but when she went to the hall to check, she found it empty. And yet the feeling persisted. Maybe there were ghosts. Would Sinclair laugh if she asked him, or worse, tell her there were? Something odd was happening, no denying it. The air in the library hung heavily, almost thick enough to touch, and even with the sunlight streaming through the big, round windows, the room appeared dimmer, darker. Shadows grew in the corner despite the light, stretching dark fingers. . .

Samantha twitched and turned as odd flickers of motion caught the corner of her eye. Yet, whenever she turned to look, nothing appeared out of place. She tried to concentrate on the book she studied, but the prickling at the back of her neck wouldn't stop.

I'm being a scaredy cat. She knew it. Yet, she couldn't help it. Something about the place, or the ambiance in the last hour had changed, turned frightening. Clenched into a tight ball, her stomach ached and she forced herself to slow her breathing. A fast motion out of the corner of her eye was the last straw. Unable to take it anymore she fled to the hall and ran right into a broad and solid chest.

A pair of hands gripped her arms, steadying her, and with a squeak of terror, she peered up only to see Sinclair's surprised face. "What had you running out of there so fast?" he asked, taking in her frantic look.

Admit she jumped at shadows? "Nothing. Just stretching my legs."

Sinclair frowned at her pat answer and glanced through the doorway into the library. He let go of her arms and went to peer inside the empty room and of course saw nothing. Samantha felt foolish now. "Did something frighten you?"

"There's nothing wrong, just my overactive imagination playing tricks on me," she said, her earlier unease gone with his arrival.

Sinclair didn't appear convinced. "Why don't you freshen up? Dinner is almost ready. I'll meet you in the dining room when you're done."

Glancing down at herself, Samantha flushed, mortified to see the filth covering the gown he'd given her. The dust of ages from the many books she'd catalogued clung to her and she reeked of old books and mildew. Gross.

"I'll be back in a jiffy." Leaving him, she sprinted up the stairs to the room he'd loaned her.

Once there, she shut the door and leaned against it for a minute. The sense of being watched had disappeared and she mentally chided herself for letting her imagination get the better of her. How stupid had she looked charging out of there? Sinclair must think I'm an utter flake, one who's scared of her own shadow.

Scared and dirty, she thought with a grimace catching a glimpse of the grime on the bodice. How on earth am I going to be able to clean myself up before dinner? She could hardly wash and dry the dress in time. A moot point apparently because while she'd been working in the library, an armoire had somehow made its way into her room. She opened its heavy doors and discovered it was filled with gowns, underclothes and linen slippers. Not only that, but her comfy jammies and robe, both freshly laundered, lay folded on top of the bed.

How thoughtful. Still, she wondered where Sinclair had managed to find women's clothing. Could he magically create clothes? Another thing she'd have to ask him.

Or did this belong to a previous occupant? Sure, he'd said he lived alone. Now. What about before her arrival? How did she know he wasn't some type of Bluebeard? Luring women then killing them. Great. Another thing to worry about. Well, if he's going to kill me, I hope he waits until after dinner. I'm starving.

Tummy grumbling, she grabbed a pale blue gown and went into the bathroom to change. She stripped out of the soiled dress, coughing at the little clouds of dust that floated about. She hoped she hadn't ruined it, which in turn made her wonder how they washed their clothes here. I doubt there's a Laundromat just down the beach. Maybe Mr. I-Do-Magic does it like Mickey Mouse in Fantasia and has the clothes dancing in sudsy tubs and hanging themselves to dry. She giggled.

She washed her hands and face and combed her long hair. Not having found anything to tie it back with, she left it loose - sorry, Mother - and put on the blue gown she'd found in the armoire. This one fit her much better than the first, even if the square bodice showed off more cleavage than she preferred. Scrounging in the armoire she found a matching pair of blue linen slippers and put them on. Made of a thin material with no rubber sole, they were still better than walking around barefoot. Dressed, she hurried out the door and down the stairs to the dining room.

Sinclair, already present when she came in, stood up and came around to seat her. Samantha blushed and ducked her head when his hand accidentally brushed the bare skin exposed by her neckline, but he didn't react to the simple contact even though it felt like a jolt of energy had shot through her.

Sinclair seated himself beside her, seeming distracted. Before she could think of anything to say, some of the household Undines appeared bearing plates of food and goblets for wine, which they filled from a tall, crystal decanter.

Samantha found herself ravenous from her afternoon's work and dug in heartily. The food, which she didn't recognize, tasted delicious, some kind of seafood that melted in her mouth. The rose colored wine served with it made a perfect complement to the meal and went down smoothly. The act of eating allowed her some time to think about what she would say to him. His brooding face didn't exactly encourage idle chit chat.

Eventually though, the meal was done and she leaned back with a happy sigh, sipping at the wine in her silver goblet. She glanced over at Sinclair who had barely touched his food. He leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes intent.

"How did your work in the library go this afternoon?" he finally asked, twirling a wine goblet between long fingers. Unlike some of their previous encounters, he seemed more relaxed, if intent. At least he wasn't attacking her, verbally or otherwise. Maybe he's waiting for dessert to bring out the big guns.

Whatever the reason for his mellowed mood, she'd take it. "The work went pretty well," she replied. "I've gotten to all the books in the first section and will start cataloguing the rest in the morning. I've found a couple of spell books that deal in curses which I've put aside for further study. I can't believe some of the stuff you've got in there."

"Yes, the library was very well stocked by the previous occupant."

"Did you ever find out who that was?" she asked curiously.

"No, although I believe there may have been a man and a woman at least. The clothing I found for you was stored in some of the trunks in the storage room along with some men's clothing."

"You mean you didn't magically conjure these up?" she asked looking down at the gown she wore.

"No wizard alive can create something out of nothing," he stated.

"Why not?"

"Magic is more about manipulating forces. I could technically make you a gown but I'd need some sheep wool first. Then I'd have to direct my magic to weave it into cloth, then a gown. But the time, power and skill that would take. . ." He shrugged. "It's just easier to buy it ready made."

"Then what can your magic do?"

"Lots of things. For example using a small bit of magic, I can use it to push objects, like that chair over there." With a squeal, the chair beside her slid across the floor as if moved by ghostly hands - the same ghostly hands that had saved her from the falling chandelier. "I can also use magic to speak mind to mind with another magically imbued person, teleport myself, do some minor healing, create fire and light and more."

"How do you use magic to heal?"

"I'm not very good at it, but my mother, who is strong in that aspect, can draw upon her magic to speed the healing process."

"Wow," said Samantha. "And is it hard to learn how to do magic? I remember you saying earlier that you studied to become a wizard."

"Depends on what you consider hard. I studied yes - learning how to use one's power can be challenging and some people are more gifted than others. My studies dealt with how to harness the power and shape it to do what I wished and also figuring out how much power was needed. Too much power and you can destroy things unintentionally."

Samantha listened fascinated to her crash course in wizardry. What a shame though that his power couldn't create some real shoes! It also explained the lack of adornment in the castle. "I guess you lucked out when the curse placed you on this island then."

"In a sense, you could say so. The castle was fully furnished when I found it, leading me to believe whomever once lived here left and intended to come back. I've tried questioning the Undines but their life spans are much shorter than ours and so their history only goes back about fifteen to twenty years."

"So the Undines were already here?" she asked, eager to keep him talking.

"Yes, they inhabited that village you saw this morning. They were quite welcoming of me when I arrived and have proven to be good friends. I've managed to teach several of them our language and have helped them with the maintenance of their village as well as providing minor healing for the injured. They in turn help me out by doing some of the castle chores and food gathering. All in all it has worked out well in that respect."

He went silent and Samantha, looking down at her empty plate, felt some of her usual shyness creeping back as she tried to think of something else to talk about. She came up blank.

"I guess I'll see you in the morning," she said finally. Standing from the table, she started walking for the hall.

Sinclair jumped up. "Don't go yet. It's still early and you've been inside working all afternoon. Join me for a walk. The beach is quite lovely in the evening."

Surprised by his offer, she agreed. Leading the way to the front door, he swept it open and gestured for her to precede him. They walked, silently yet companionably down the path to the beach. Samantha, mindful of her thin linen slippers, watched for sharp rocks.

When they reached the village, Sinclair waved and said Hello to those still outside and they chittered back at him, their general happiness and goodwill towards Sinclair apparent. They seem to really like him which I guess bodes well for his general character. Why she even cared about that she didn't know.

They strolled through the village until they reached the dune leading down to the beach. Taking her hand, he held it firmly guiding her down so she wouldn't slip. They were just in time for the sunset, a glorious, colorful affair. Wispy tendrils of illuminated cloud stretched ethereally across the sky, their shades darkening as the sun dipped below the horizon.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, standing close to her. His hand still held hers and she felt quite content to leave it there. There was something reassuring about it and she couldn't help the warm feeling that spread through her. "No matter how many times I see it, I am always amazed by the beauty of the sunsets here. One of the small things that has made my captivity bearable," he said, unable to completely mask the sadness in his tone.

Samantha's heart ached for him. How horrible to lose everything and everyone he ever knew, exiled to a place with no other humans to interact with. The loneliness must have been unbearable. Samantha knew about loneliness and she squeezed his hand, a gesture meant to convey he wasn't alone anymore. He squeezed back, and in silence, they watched the sunset together.

As the last rays left the horizon, still holding hands, they walked up the beach. Presently, Samantha spoke. "How big is the island?"

"I can't be sure of its exact size but it can easily be walked around in one day," he replied.

"Are there more houses and stuff elsewhere on the island?"

"No. The other side of the island ends in a rocky cliff. It would seem they kept the main living space close to the beach. The jungle covers the rest of it."

"Does the jungle have a lot of wild animals?" she asked, wanting to hear him talk, about anything. She loved his deep baritone voice.

"Some creatures, none of which are dangerous. The most dangerous thing on the island, other than me of course," he said grinning at her, "would be the dryad we have in a really old tree on the other side of the island. She's been sleeping since I came here and I'm happy to keep it that way."

"Dryad, as in a tree fairy?" she asked with big eyes. Wow, she really had walked into a fairy tale world.

Sinclair chuckled. "Don't ever call a dryad a fairy. You're not likely to survive it. Fairies themselves might even take offense. They may be little but their egos are big."

All this new information had Samantha quite giddy. The thought of real fairies and dryads and other mythical creatures fascinated her. Could the fairy tales she'd grown up with have some shred of truth to them?

"What about you? I've neglected to ask whether there was anyone you left behind when you crossed the Boundary," he said, changing the topic on her.

"No one," she replied shortly. No need to bore him with her tales of loneliness.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"It's okay. To be honest, my life before I came here wasn't very exciting. Eat, work and sleep. Actually with the holidays coming up, I wouldn't even be working."

"Surely you have a suitor or family who will miss you?"

"A suitor?" Samantha laughed heartily.

Sure, she'd love to have a boyfriend. Heck she'd even have dated a geek, that is if she could find one that would lift his nose from a book long enough to even look at her. Or hey, if she didn't mind being the other woman, there were plenty of leering fathers to choose from - they could have trysted in the library copy room while his kids ran around messing up the books and sticking gum under the table.

It wasn't as if she had no experience with men, they just weren't good ones. Take her last date, more than six months ago.

"I'll be back in a minute," he'd said. "I just need to use the boys room."

Samantha like an i***t, sat there sipping the remains of her virgin pi–a colada, people watching. It was only when the waiter showed up at her table the third time asking if she needed anything else that she realized her date wasn't coming back. Thank God she'd had her wallet.

Then a week later, the same creep phoned. "Hey, want to go a movie?" The slamming of the phone seemed to get the point across as he never called again.

Her most serious suitor had been Gerry in college. They'd gone steady for over three months. They'd even gotten to the hand-holding stage, a big step considering Gerry took his religion very seriously. But then Gerry got offered a job in another province, so with a merry wave she'd seen him off. She did feel a small pang at the thought of going to the movies alone again, but at least now she didn't have to share the popcorn. In all fairness, Gerry had been a nice guy, and that was it. No I-want- to-fling-your-clothes-off-and-maul-you feelings with him. Just nice.

Sinclair on the other hand. . . She wanted to do more than rip off his clothes.

He seemed mystified by her laughter. "I fail to see the humor in my question. Surely a woman as appealing as yourself would have a string of gentlemen suitors."

"Thanks for the compliment, but I don't exactly have guys beating down my door. In my world skinny is in, curvy is out."

He squeezed her hand, and Samantha felt her eyes get damp. Great, now he's going to think I'm some kind of pathetic loser.

Night had completely fallen and it became too dark to see. Sporting a mischievous grin, Sinclair waggled his fingers and a glowing globe appeared in the air.

"Magic?" she questioned, reaching out a hand to touch the orb, which danced just out of reach.

"The first spell I ever learned at school."

"But I thought you said you couldn't create things out of nothing."

"This is pure energy that I've magically formed into a ball. The condensing of the power in that small form creates the glow."

The light bobbed ahead of them, illuminating their path as they walked back to the castle. On the way, he regaled her with stories of mischief he'd gotten up to in school, some which had her laughing almost to tears. Reaching the castle, he gallantly escorted her to her bedroom door, and paused looking down at her.

"Thank you for keeping me company," he said, suddenly serious.

Samantha blushed and ducked her head. "It was my pleasure. Thanks for answering all my questions. This world you live in is really neat." As are you, not that she said that part aloud.

With her head dipped, Samantha didn't see him lean towards her and kiss her on the forehead, but she sure felt it. Peering up at him, startled by his act, she caught his enigmatic smile as he bid her good night before going up the hall to his bed chamber.

He kissed me! Samantha floated into her room with a smile. What a day! Hard to believe she'd arrived on the island only this morning. And that Sinclair, what a hunk! She'd really enjoyed their walk on the beach in the twilight. Talk about romantic. Such a shame it would never go any further. Samantha harbored no illusions. Powerful attractive men didn't fall in love with well padded librarians. As for the kiss? As platonic as you could get.

Stripping off the dress and slippers, Samantha put on her comfy jammies, a little pang of homesickness surprising her. Surely she didn't miss her cramped little apartment. And it wasn't as if anybody would be missing her. Well, actually management might when she didn't show up to work after the holidays two weeks from now. But with the library closed, her mother gone and no friends to speak of, it might take some time before anyone even noticed she'd disappeared. If they ever did.

The only person who had truly cared about her had been Mother. Her poor mother. In a sense, her passing proved a blessing. For as long as Samantha could remember, her mother ailed. Of what, the doctors couldn't say. But there was no doubting something was amiss. Mother used to laugh and say nothing would defeat her. And she fought, but every year she got a little weaker, her step a little slower, until finally she became bed bound. Even there she kept saying "I won't let you down."

The last time Samantha put her to bed, her mother grabbed her hand tightly. In a raspy voice, she'd whispered, "I'm sorry." Then she closed her eyes and never opened them again. Samantha had never been sure what she felt sorry for.

Now at twenty-three, Samantha braved the world alone and had for the last few years. Deciding to change her lonely state, she'd read all the self help books she could find on how to make friends. Any day now her research would pay off. Of course, the library wasn't exactly brimming with people her age, but hey, all the books said the workplace was a great place to start.

Or how about an exotic island? Samantha smiled, thinking of her stroll and talk with the handsome Sinclair. While she missed the familiarity of her home, for the first time in a long time, she felt alive and that feeling stemmed from more than the fact she found herself on a tropical island with a handsome hunk, although, that did help. Her sense of awakening came from the idea that she, Samantha Jones, had actually embarked upon an adventure. For the first time ever, she was living life instead of reading about it. Why, in just one day, she'd experienced teleportation, met a new species, discovered magic existed, and even almost ended up squashed under a few hundred pounds of chandelier. Not to mention, she'd finally met a man she actually wanted to tear the clothes off of. Now that she thought about it, she'd had an awfully busy day.

Crawling into the huge bed, she snuggled under the covers and lay on her back staring at the ceiling. As she fell asleep, her body exhausted from the day's activities, she briefly wondered what tomorrow would bring.

What would Sinclair do if she found the key to his release? Hopefully something a little more exciting than a kiss on the forehead.