Otherworld Tales Volume 1

  OTHERWORLD TALES

  Volume One

  YASMINE GALENORN

  A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication

  Published by Yasmine Galenorn

  PO Box 2037, Kirkland WA 98083-2037

  OTHERWORLD TALES, VOLUME ONE

  Copyright ©2017 by Yasmine Galenorn

  First Print Edition: Copyright ©2017 Nightqueen Enterprises, LLC

  First Collection Electronic Printing: Copyright ©2017, Nightqueen Enterprises, LLC

  Collected Works Within:

  First Electronic Printing:

  Tales From Otherworld: Copyright ©2014 Nightqueen Enterprises, LLC

  Men of Otherworld, Collection One: Copyright ©2014 Nightqueen Enterprises, LLC

  Men of Otherworld, Collection Two: Copyright ©2015 Nightqueen Enterprises, LLC

  Cover Design by Earthly Charms

  Cover Art: Tony Mauro (copyright-Yasmine Galenorn)

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any format, be it print or electronic or audio, without permission. Please prevent piracy by purchasing only authorized versions of this book.

  This is a work of fiction and is entirely the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, or places is entirely coincidental and not to be construed as representative or an endorsement of any living/existing group, person, place, or business.

  A Nightqueen Enterprises, LLC Publication

  Published in the United States of America

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Table of Contents

  Acknowledgments & Introductions

  Part One: Tales from Otherworld

  Naked as a Moon Witch

  An Otherworld Thanksgiving

  A Ghost in the House

  First Touch

  A Crackle of Flames

  Dreaming Death

  Surprises

  Meetings

  Part Two: Men of Otherworld: Collection One

  The Hunger

  Chasing Sharah

  Ink Bonds

  Blood Ties

  A Purr-fect Weekend

  Part Three: Men of Otherworld: Collection Two

  Fae-ted to Love

  Smoke and Mirrors

  Luck Be a Leprechaun

  Family Ties

  Cast of Major Characters

  Glossary

  Biography

  Acknowledgments & Introduction

  When I first started writing Witchling twelve years ago, I had no clue that the series would become so popular. It amazed me how much my readers took to the Sisters, and how rapidly the series gained traction. Nineteen books later, I’m finishing the series on my own and writing short pieces and novelettes on the side. This volume contains three of the e-collections that I put out a couple years ago: Tales From Otherworld, Men of Otherworld, Collection 1, and Men of Otherworld, Collection 2. I’m putting it out in print and e-format form for those who want all of the short stories together. Another volume will follow next year containing some of the other novellas that I’ve released in indie.

  I’m so grateful to my readers who’ve followed me this far. To the ones who’ve remained like glue to the adventures of the sisters—thank you for the love you’ve given this world of mine, and all my worlds. I hope you enjoy the side stories—which I intend to continue writing.

  Thanks also go to my husband, Samwise, who has been my biggest supporter as I’ve shifted my career to the indie side. And thanks to my friends who have cheered me on—especially Jo and Carol. Thank you to my assistants Jenn and Andria for all their help. And thank you to my fellow authors in my UF group, who have helped me learn what I needed to learn in order to take my career into my own hands.

  A most reverent nod to my spiritual guardians—Mielikki, Tapio, Ukko, Rauni, and the Lady Brighid. They guide my life, and my heart.

  And of course, love and scritches to my fuzzy brigade—Caly, Brighid, Morgana, and little boy Apple. I would be lost without my cats.

  Bright Blessings, and for more information about all my work, please see my website at Galenorn.com, and sign up for my newsletter.

  Bright Blessings,

  ~The Painted Panther~

  ~Yasmine Galenorn~

  Part One

  Tales From Otherworld

  Naked as a Moon Witch

  This story takes place after the D’Artigo Sisters come Earthside, but before Witchling starts. Camille’s referred to this incident a number of times, and I thought it would be fun to explore just what happened…

  SOMETIMES, BEING A Witch just didn’t pay. And the fact that my magic backfired half the time meant that some days, it was barely tolerable…

  It was a week like any other, with no customers coming by. Usually The Indigo Crescent, my bookstore, did a fairly steady business, but for once it had been sunny in Seattle, and everybody was out skateboarding and hanging in the parks. Nobody wanted to be cooped up in a dusty little bookstore. By three pm, I was hot, and tired, and so bored out of my mind that I couldn’t stand it, when it occurred to me that I could occupy myself by trying out some of the spells that kept backfiring on me. Nothing offensive of course. I didn’t want to blow a hole in the wall, that much I was certain of.

  So, I decided to try a spell that I’d been working on for several years, but that I could never manage to cast. Nothing ever happened when I tried—just a fizzle and spurt, and boom, nada. I didn’t need any components, either, which was another plus. Without further ado, I retreated to the back hall and focused, whispering the charm.

  By the powers of three times three,

  By cape and cloak, by breast and knee,

  Let others lose their powers to see me.

  I waited. Nothing. I looked at my hand. Still there. Great, another failure. With a sigh, I headed back to the front of the shop and started shelving another box of used books that I’d bought off a starving college student.

  About twenty minutes later, a young guy entered the shop, complete with requisite Birkenstocks and backpack. He headed toward the science fiction section without looking at me. A moment later, apparently unable to find what he wanted, he turned around, about to ask for help. But the words died on his lips as he stood there, staring at me, eyes firmly planted on my boobs.

  His jaw dropped and he started to stutter. No actual words came out of his mouth as he continued to stare at my breasts. Then, his eyes moved down to my crotch.

  Oh fuck. I knew that I had an effect on men—you couldn’t be half-Fae and not have an effect on humans. But this was a little much to take, even for me.

  Irate, I marched over and, with my hands on hips, demanded, “What’s the matter? Can’t see my face?”

  At that moment, Iris entered the shop. She gasped. “Camille!”

  “Not now, Iris. I’m giving this young man a lesson in manners.” Granted, he was about my age if you count everything relative, but that didn’t matter. I had a good forty Earthside years on him and I wasn’t about to put up with this bullshit.

  “But Camille…?” Iris was sounding more urgent. She bustled behind the counter and grabbed my arm. “This can’t wait. Can you please come over here? Now?”

  Exasperated, I started to shake her off, but the look on her face stopped me. Whether it was absolute horror, or chagrin and embarrassment, I couldn’t tell, but the house sprite was definitely on the edge of uncomfortable.

  I let out a sigh and glanced at my voyeur. “Listen, you. Wait here.”

  He nodded, his gaz
e still glued to my chest. “Whatever you say.” It was then that I noticed he was holding a very large book in front of his pants.

  Growing more disgusted by the moment, I followed Iris to the back. The minute we reached my office, she pushed me through the door. And trust me, for someone who was barely 4’1” and who looked like the Swiss Miss Cocoa girl, she packed a punch when she wanted to.

  “What is going on? Why are you acting so strange? I want that pervert out of here.” I wasn’t sure who I was more irritated at by now: the guy or Iris.

  “You really think this is all his fault? Dressed like that?” She gave a little snort.

  I glanced down. I was wearing my usual gear. Black rayon skirt. Purple bustier. Stiletto sandals. Yeah, it was sexy but so what? It wasn’t like I was wearing a negligee.

  “What are you talking about? I look perfectly respectable.”

  “Really? Really? Girl, I know you like to flaunt it but I never thought you were a closet nudist.” Iris stared at me like I’d just tried to tell her that Santa didn’t exist, when we both knew he did. For that matter, he was a freakshow scary-assed dude.

  “Nudist?” Taken aback, I glanced down. “What the fuck are you talking about? Last time I looked in the dictionary, nudist didn’t include an alternative definition for someone wearing clothes!”

  Iris scrunched up her lips and cocked her head. “Um, Camille. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re naked. N-E-K-K-I-D.”

  What the hell? I glanced down at my clothes again. “No I’m not!” I went into a lengthy description of what I was wearing, but she stood there shaking her head.

  “I don’t see a thing. Except your massively round boobs and your Brazilian.” She let out a laugh. “You are trying to tell me you have on a skirt, panties, and bustier?”

  I grabbed her hand and brought it toward me. Her eyes narrowed like she was a rabbit heading directly toward a hawk, but then she let out a little ‘oh’ as her fingers came in contact with my skirt. She tugged on it.

  “Oh, great gods. Camille, I can’t see your skirt. I can’t see any of your clothing! All I see is a lot of beautiful, pale skin.” She followed the hem of the skirt and then touched my waist, feeling the lacings on the bustier. “What on earth have you been doing?”

  I thought for a moment, and then it hit me. “Oh no! No…no…no! No wonder…that poor man out there! No wonder he couldn’t stop…” I grabbed for a jacket off the coat rack but the minute I slipped it on, Iris let out a little cry.

  “The jacket—it vanished! I can’t see it now!”

  Cripes! My spell must have backfired instead of fizzled out. I quickly told Iris what I’d done, and she started to laugh. I wanted to smack her one, but truth was, it sounded too funny, even to me.

  “So now, all your clothes become invisible the minute you put them on! Oh Camille, you can’t possibly stay here.”

  “I’m going to have to go home, but how do I get there? If I head out to my car, everybody will see me. I’m trapped!” Panicking now, and not sure at all how long the damned spell would last, I dropped into my office chair, blushing brighter than I had for years.

  “It’s a good thing that detective—Chase? It’s a good thing he isn’t here. He’s been after your body for months.” She frowned, tapping her toe as she contemplated the problem. “Here’s what we’ll do. You stay back here till after dark. Then, Menolly or Delilah will come get you and you can make a beeline into their car. You stay at home until this wears off. I’ll take care of the bookstore.”

  “You’d do that? I know you’re looking for work, but I didn’t think you’d be interested in a bookstore. I thought you were looking for a family to bond with.” Grateful for her help, I let out a sigh.

  “I need something to do with my time while I look for a new family, so don’t sweat it.” She grinned at me. “Girl, your breasts are gorgeous.”

  I winked back and pointed at her chest. “Well, yours must give them a run for their money.” The house sprite was pretty stacked, herself. “Anyway, yeah, that’s the only option I have right now. If you could run upstairs, I think Delilah’s in her office. But what about lover boy out there? I feel so bad now for yelling at him. What must he think?”

  “I’ll take care of him. Don’t you worry about that. You just stay out of sight.” As she headed back out to the front, I rubbed my head. Yeah, some days being a half-human, half-Fae witch just didn’t live up to expectations.

  It took me a week for the spell to wear off. After that, I decided to leave the invisibility up to anybody other than myself. After all, what’s the use of having a closet filled with gorgeous clothes when nobody can see them?

  An Otherworld Thanksgiving

  This short, from Camille’s point of view, takes place between the books Crimson Veil, moments before Priestess Dreaming starts. In fact, Priestess Dreaming begins on the tail end of this scene…

  “WHERE ARE THE potatoes? We’re going to need potatoes for tomorrow! Trillian, did you remember to pick them up?” Iris darted around Hanna, carrying a stockpot filled with soup for tonight’s dinner. “And somebody better start the water for the eggs. If we don’t get them boiled tonight, we won’t have deviled eggs for canapés!”

  Hanna lifted the pan of biscuits over her head. “Careful now, or we’ll have no biscuits to go with the soup tonight!” She deftly maneuvered around Roz, who carried a bushel of apples over to the table for Delilah to peel. Apple pie was on the holiday menu, as well as the cherry pies that were about ready to come out of the oven. The smell in the kitchen was enough to set any mouth salivating.

  Trillian grunted. “I got ‘em. They’re still out in the car. I’ll run out and bring them in. Russets okay?”

  “Perfect! While you’re at it, can you dash over to my house and gather some basil, thyme, and parsley from the greenhouse? We need more than a few sprigs, mind you!” Iris flashed him a smile and he softened.

  “You know I can’t say no to you.” And he was out the back door, into the blustery afternoon.

  “Camille, are you done with the cherry pies yet?” Iris glanced my way and I felt like I should salute. We all knew Iris was running this show, with Hanna as her lieutenant commander, even though they did jostle over territory. The rest of us were just soldiers in the army, doing what we were told.

  “I’m pulling them out of the oven right now.” I bent down, carefully removing the cookie sheets from the rack. Two pies per sheet, there were eight in the big double oven. We had already baked eight pumpkin pies, and we’d make eight apple. With sixteen at the table tomorrow, including our new-found cousins, that would barely be enough to tide us through the weekend. We all had guerrilla appetites.

  “Good then. I’ll be back in a minute. I’m going to see if the tablecloths and napkins are dry yet.” Iris bustled out of the kitchen, toward the laundry room.

  “What about the turkey?” Morio was sitting at the table, next to Delilah, knife in hand. As she finished peeling the apples, he quickly sliced them into a bowl. Across from him, Menolly was arranging the slices in the pie plates. I felt for her this time of year. Even with the food-flavored blood, it had to suck not being able to join us in the feast.

  “Smoky’s supposed to bring the turkey. I asked him to go down to the store with Vanzir and pick out a twenty-five pounder. I don’t know what could be keeping them.” I frowned, glancing up at the clock. Surely, Smoky and Vanzir could handle a job as simple as picking up the turkey.

  Just then, the door opened and Vanzir burst through. “Where’s Delilah?”

  “Right here!” Delilah swung around, then stopped. “What the hell?”

  I turned to see what the matter was. Vanzir looked frantic. His hair was mussed up and there were what looked like puncture wounds on his forehead. He wiped a string of blood off his cheek.

  “What the hell happened to you?” I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

  “Don’t ask! You don’t want to know. And Delilah,
I advise you to get your ass out of this kitchen before Smoky brings in the turkey.” Vanzir looked like he was caught between exasperation and a smirk.

  I frowned. “Why on earth would she…” And then—I knew. “No. No. Oh for fuck’s sake. Just where did you go to for the turkey?”

  Vanzir shrugged. “I wanted to go to The Natural Pantry—you know, where we buy most of the produce that we don’t grow. But Smoky had other ideas. Since he’s still not entirely thrilled hanging out with me, I decided I wasn’t about to make waves.”

  “And just where did Smoky want to go?”

  But Vanzir didn’t have time to answer, because in that moment, Smoky strode proudly into the kitchen, with a big mother of a turkey under his arm. Only the turkey? Was still alive. And by alive, I mean, hopping mad. The bird must have weighed a good twenty-five pounds, all right, and it had its tail feathers in an uproar.

  He plunked it down on the floor in front of me. “Now, here’s a turkey. The ones at the store looked puny so I decided that—”

  “What the fuck?” I jumped back as the thing took a stab at the buckles on my boots. “Smoky, have you lost it? We can’t cook that thing. The bird is still alive!”

  “Not a problem, my love. I’ll get up early tomorrow and chop its head off for you and I’ll even volunteer to pluck it—”

  “What the hell is that?” Iris came back into the room at that moment, and the basket of clean laundry she was carrying went tumbling to the floor. “Just why is there a turkey in my kitchen?”

  “My kitchen, thank you—you have your own kitchen now, Iris.” Hanna glared at Iris, then at Smoky. “But yes, what the hell were you thinking? Get that nasty creature out of here!”