Evelyn Klebert

Here is the conclusion to “An Unexpected Danger,” the first paranormal tale for Halloween Month 2025. Just as a side note, the character of Lapetus in this story was first introduced in my recent novel, The Story of Enid: Vol. 2 of the Clandestine Exploits of a Werewolf. Hope you enjoy and peace to all. 🙂

An Unexpected Danger (Part Two)

Abra opened her eyes slowly. The light was streaming into her bedroom, and the spot beside her was empty. She sat up, pulling the sheets up to her neck and glancing at the clock. It was already nine. If she had been working today, she would already be several hours late. Thankfully, it was her day off.

Her hand drifted to the spot beside her that not so very long ago had been occupied by a very handsome werewolf — one who also happened to be a passionate lover. The memories flooded in with an intensity she was overwhelmed by, but then again, she literally had nothing to compare it to.

She wondered if he was still in the house or if he’d left.

She wondered if she should look for a note or if she’d simply never see him again. Her hand drifted to the spot he had occupied on the bed. It was still warm, so he hadn’t left long ago. They hadn’t used birth control. She wondered if she should be worried. She wondered if she should stop wondering so much. There were so many things to consider, and she was still tired. Much went on the night before, but sleep hadn’t played a large part in that.

But as much as she would have liked to stay in bed and sleep the morning away, she was not one to dodge whatever was coming. So, Abra pulled on a pair of denim shorts and a pink t-shirt and brushed out her hair. By the time she entered the kitchen, she was more than convinced she was in the house alone. But sitting right at her tiny dinette table was the man in question, sipping what she assumed was a cup of coffee.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he said softly. “You seemed very tired.”

“Yeah,” she smiled awkwardly because this morning-after thing was a first for her as well. “I thought you might have left.”

And he was looking at her intensely, or maybe she wasn’t awake enough to assess anything accurately. “That would have been rude.”

“And hunting down your prey in a wolf form isn’t?”

He took another sip from his cup and then asked smoothly, “Do you want some. I made a pot?” Evidently, not wanting to address her barbed observation. He was dressed as he had been the night before, in black jeans and a T-shirt, and looked remarkably unruffled considering what had gone on last night.

“Oh, yeah, but I’ll get it.” She wandered over to the counter, slowly taking a mug out of the cabinet and pouring the coffee while trying to figure out where they go from here. In the harsh light of day, a few realities had filtered in, like the fact that this man, who seemed like such a threat maybe a day ago, she’d spent an intense night making love with. She didn’t know how the other Protectors of the Sacred Valley conducted themselves, but she may have just slightly wandered outside the job description.

She felt his hands slip around her waist. “Are you all right, Abra? You seem quite out of sorts this morning.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she murmured as she stirred the sugar in her coffee. Now he was leaning against her, reminding her of that electrical, crazy attraction she felt for this man.

“I know how innocent you were, and I wanted to make sure you’re well.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, wondering vaguely how exactly she would get the milk out of the fridge if he continued to hold her this way. “I’m good.”

And then he straightened up and stepped away from her. She smiled at him a little awkwardly as she moved to retrieve the milk from the refrigerator and then pour it into her coffee. “I’m not sure what we have around here for breakfast. We might have a few bagels.”

Quite oddly, he took the milk carton from her hands and returned it to the refrigerator. “What is it?” he asked, staring at her intently again.

“I-I’m not sure. I guess I haven’t processed things yet. I didn’t expect last night to go the way it did—”

He nodded slowly as though considering thoughtfully. “Yes, yes, it was unexpected.”

“Yes, and I wasn’t really prepared.”

She found herself leaning with her back against the fridge while he canvassed her face, looking, it seemed, for something. “We, my kind, don’t procreate in the ordinary way,” he murmured distractedly.

She frowned, trying to piece that statement together when it dawned on her. “Oh, okay, well, so I shouldn’t be concerned about, well, about—”

“No,” he cut her off abruptly, though an odd, somewhat unreadable expression crossed his face. “No, you shouldn’t be concerned.”

She nodded, smiling but still feeling something unspoken in the air. She took a sip of her coffee, realizing she’d put way too much sugar in it—not all that unexpected, considering the circumstances.

And then she felt his fingertips lightly brushing her cheek. “There is something, though, Abra.”

It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, as she’d experienced this more than once in her life. It seemed acutely as though the other shoe was getting ready to drop. “What?” she said, straightening up with the recognition she was still leaning back against her fridge.

“I asked you about an incantation last night.”

She drew in a breath, trying to think. After everything that had happened, it took her a moment to sift back to that particular conversation. “Yeah, you accused me of putting a spell on you. I didn’t, you know.”

His fingertips brushed her cheek. How could such an innocuous gesture feel so erotic? Of course, the truth was that just about everything about him felt that way right now. “Yes, I know that. But the problem is, there was a spell, an incantation, that drew us together last night. To be blunt, I have an acute sense of smell and could smell magic.”

“So, you don’t mean that metaphorically. You actually could smell an incantation. So, us being together last night—”

And then he bent in and kissed her softly on the lips. “Was wonderful, unexpected but lovely, Abra. Don’t misunderstand me.”

“But—” She murmured.

“But I am certain it was orchestrated. Something or someone very much wanted us to be together.”

*

Lapetus knew some things.

He knew, staring into Abra’s wide green eyes, that she was telling him the truth, but he also knew deep down, in his flesh, his very old bones, and in his blood, that she wasn’t entirely clueless as to what he was speaking about. Quite smoothly and methodically, he took the cup of coffee she’d just poured out of her hands and placed it on the counter beside them. Then he pushed her backward so that she was ostensibly pinned between him and the refrigerator as he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her deeply, thoroughly, passionately so that she could be more than convinced that now there was no incantation coercing him.

Then suddenly, and somewhat unexpectedly, she broke the kiss, looking at him with wide, confused eyes. “What are you doing?”

And then he smiled and softly said. “I’m kissing you because I want to and because I want you.”

Confusion marred her lovely features. But after a hesitation, she leaned in softly, kissing him back. It would wait. Unraveling things that might mar this lovely interlude would wait. And then he pulled her with intent securely into his arms.

*

Jolene was worried. Things felt out of balance. Primarily, she was worried about her mother, who was asleep in her bed, completely exhausted from the energy she had to expend weaving that archaic spell last night. Jolene wasn’t at all sure it had been necessary. Admittedly, those two needed very little prodding to be together. But, and her stomach sank dismally at the prospect, when Abra was told, she wasn’t at all sure how she would react. And she wasn’t at all sure that she could accept, as she should.

*

She was really hungry now. It was closing in on noon, and she hadn’t eaten all day. Beside her, she could feel Peter, or hell, who was she kidding, Lapetus, trying to sleep but then waking and tossing restlessly. She thought about talking to him and discovering what was wrong, but part of her was afraid.

It felt like opening Pandora’s box. Strangely, she felt guilty, as though she’d done something wrong, but she didn’t know exactly what that could be.

“I’m awake,” he murmured.

She smiled, turning toward him and putting on a light-hearted demeanor. “I thought you were tired.”

He pulled her against him. “Sleep, I can always catch up on.”

She laughed, feeling a curious joyfulness that was unfamiliar to her bubbling up within her. “Well, I have an idea. How about we pick up some food from Esme’s for lunch and then sit outside by a lake? There are tons of them here.”

“Would you like that, Abra?”

“Yeah,” she whispered enthusiastically, “and Esme’s makes incredible club sandwiches.”

He nodded, twirling his fingertips in a tendril of her hair, “All right, but let’s run to my place first so I can get a change of clothes.”

She smiled, feeling her mood perceptibly lighten. “Sounds good. I’d love to see where you’re ensconced.”

*

Abra had grabbed a granola bar just to quell the headache threatening to overcome her from lack of food. But her companion seemed less affected by a drop in blood sugar than she did. They took her car because, evidently, last night, Lapetus had traveled to her house on foot. She didn’t want to ask if that was on two feet or four paws because, well, it wasn’t as if she had room to talk. But she was curious about how he managed the clothes thing. With her, there was some magic contortion involved. Her mother called it dimension-tearing, where her clothing was stashed in a little dimensional pocket during the transformation and retrieved afterward. Like a handbag strategically stashed in an alternate reality. Somehow, she doubted her centuries-old werewolf boyfriend here managed things the same way. Boyfriend, wow, was he? No, werewolf lover seemed to suit him more. So complicated and confounding. Maybe she was just his vacation shape-shifting hook-up.

“On the left,” he murmured.

He’d been quiet during most of the ride. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you. How do you like the village?” She said as she maneuvered her Volkswagen into the driveway behind the black and white Jeep. The house, as much as she could see of it, was one of those vacation types, octagonal in shape and well-hidden in the surrounding forest.

“Is that really what you’ve been meaning to ask me?”

Good point, she thought reflectively. “Well, you have to admit we haven’t had much time for small talk. I was just curious. You’ve been around, I mean, seen a lot of places. I was just wondering what your impression is of it—” she murmured, now, actually feeling rather foolish for having brought up the question.

They were sitting in the driveway, and she was struck again by the awkwardness. After all, her life experience was so narrow, and his, well— “It’s very picturesque,” he commented flatly.

“Oh, yeah, I suppose,” she said half-heartedly.

“But there is an energy here, an undeniable power, very old. I could feel it immediately once I came into the area.”

She breathed in deeply. “That’s true. I guess I don’t always think of that. I’m here all the time. It’s just become—”

“Part of you,” he finished her thought again.

“I suppose.”

“You and this place are intertwined, Abra. Of that I have no doubt. But I wonder if you’re happy here.”

She sighed deeply. It was so hard, nearly impossible, keeping conversations light with this man. “I think I would have to say that’s very complicated.”

And then he smiled, but in a way that felt as though there were many layers of consideration going on behind his eyes. “Why don’t we go inside?”

It was airy, a strange house. There was a huge den on the first floor, connected to an open kitchen, and lots of picture windows everywhere. “I’m assuming there’s another floor,” she murmured, canvassing the expansive space.

He smiled, sitting down casually on the long, beige L-shaped sofa, facing a brass-accented fireplace. “The bedroom is downstairs,” he responded.

“I don’t know,” she said, sort of slowly spinning around, trying to soak it all in. “I would expect something a bit more gothic with you.”

“Well, it was what was available, already decorated. But it does have its charms,” he commented, holding out his hand for her.

He pulled her beside him on the couch, putting his arm around her. “I thought you needed to get a change of clothes.”

“Having you here has made me rethink things. How about we have someone deliver lunch, and we relax for a while?”

She smiled, “Not many places deliver. Maybe Dominos.”

“Pizza it is,” he said softly, pulling her in for a kiss.

“All right, but you do have to feed me soon, you know.”

“I know,” he whispered huskily.

*

It was like being caught up in a haze—a pleasurable, compelling, and comfortably tantalizing haze, but a haze nonetheless. Lapetus wandered up the curved staircase that led to the upstairs in the vacation house. He and Abra had indeed ordered pizza, eaten, and spent much of the rest of the afternoon in each other’s arms. Something about her drew him fiercely, hypnotically, and it puzzled him.

In truth, he was usually a colder individual, more exacting and calculating, one might even say detached. But this girl, woman to be precise, had gotten beneath all that iciness. It was not just the fact that she was a shapeshifter, because shapeshifter or not, she was very young, twenty-two, to his over five-hundred-year-old self.

He slowly began to button the long-sleeved dark blue shirt he’d pulled out of the closet. He’d left her asleep in the king-sized bed in the master bedroom. Yes, moving in a haze was just how he’d describe it.

But it was late in the afternoon, and as much as he would love to go on spending days like this, it was best to try to piece together what was happening.

He finished buttoning the shirt and settled on the sofa, trying to clear his mind of the fog that seemed determined to cling to him.

*

“Don’t be so nervous.”

Jolene stared down at the collection of Tarot cards she’d spread out on the coffee table only moments before. “Things are in disruption.”

“It only seems like that. This has always been the way this is done. A new guardian, a new protector of mystical origin, must be raised.”

“But this figure at the center,” Jolene eyed the card of the Magician with great trepidation. “He seems formidable.”

“You’re concerned about the lycanthrope,” Michaela muttered. And Jolene noted how breathless her voice still sounded. She had yet to regain any of her strength after the spell was cast.

“Yes, I am, but the Priestess seems linked to him. Do you think Abra has fallen in love with the fellow?”

“Love? Lust, yes, but love? Seems unlikely. They barely know each other. Once the spell fades, he will move on and be long gone before—”

“Before they figure out what we’ve done.” Jolene reluctantly completed the thought.

*

Abra awoke with a start, though it took a few moments for her vision to clear. She was in a strange, remarkably spacious room, a ceiling fan slowly turning over the king-sized bed. She glanced beside her. The spot was empty. And she remembered, remembered the intense passion that had swept in whenever they touched, whenever it seemed they were near each other. She didn’t know such a thing was possible, to feel — such a desperate yearning to be so close to another human being. But then again, he wasn’t exactly an ordinary person, and she, well, she could very well say the same thing about herself.

She struggled to clear her mind as she retrieved her clothes from the floor where they’d ended up earlier. Lapetus, she turned the name over in her mind. Several times, he’d mentioned a spell being cast. She’d disregarded his assertion, but it was undeniable how altered she felt. Truthfully, though, she’d just attributed it to the intoxication of the new experience—passion, something she ostensibly had never encountered before.

She was groggy, and her mind didn’t feel as sharp as it usually did. After pulling on her T-shirt, she sat for a moment on the edge of the bed, closing her eyes and clearing her thoughts.

She remembered so many times sitting next to her mother, attempting a meditation.

“The most important thing you must do, Abra, is to be calm. It is not possible to connect with the Great Spirit if your mind is in turmoil,” Sarah Jensen had coached her.

Abra cleared her mind and took more than a few deep breaths. Then, she opened herself to knowledge.

Whispers, whispers— she could hear them all around her as she began to feel herself softly pulled to another place.

Her head began to swirl with disorientation, but suddenly, she could begin to see again. Around her, things started to solidify. It was the den of her house, but not now, rather in the wintertime, with the fireplace lit and its flames jumping about zealously.

“So, the child will never know?” Her mother’s voice was younger than she remembered. The figure was hazy, but she stood in front of the fireplace, her hand resting on the mantle as she stared into the flames.

“No, it is for the best.” Now, it was her Gran’s voice. She was sitting on the sofa, but the images were still unclear, out of focus in Abra’s vision.

“And the father?” Sarah’s voice again, and as she turned, Abra could see she was pregnant.

“The tea that you gave him made him forget.”

Her mother turned back, staring a little sadly. Abra could now see her face as she stared into the mutating flames. “Forget me?”

“Forget you, forget this place, forget the time you were together.”

And then her mother nodded and turned to look directly at Abra. And her Gran, Michaela, did the very same. The old woman spoke in a voice that was much younger and stronger than Abra could ever remember hearing before. “Welcome, my child. It’s time we had a chat.”

*

When Jolene drove up to Abra’s house, it was just as Michaela had predicted. The car was gone. Evidently, the two of them were elsewhere. Nervously, she let herself inside with the spare key Abra had entrusted her with. Trust, that word chafed just at the moment. Moving into the kitchen, she opened one of the cabinets where Abra kept her coffee and tea. She pulled the small ceramic jar out of her pocket and placed it on the shelf, closing the cabinet door. Of course, Abra would have to choose to give him the tea, the tea that would make him forget her.

Jolene took a deep breath before she left the house. Her part was done. Regardless of how she ultimately felt about it, her part was indeed finished.

*

She felt solid here now, as though her body was with her.

“It’s not,” her Gran spoke again. “Just feels that way.”

She turned to her mother, whose soft green eyes were fixed on her. “Are you really here?” Abra said, choking up with tears.

“I am, my dearest one.” And then she lightly put a hand on her stomach. “And I am carrying you. My deepest blessing.”

Abra smiled at her and then looked back at her Gran, whose face betrayed no emotion whatsoever. And in that, her heart sank. What had she heard?

Slowly, she turned to her mother again, a younger Sarah Jensen, who was still smiling at her. She took a deep breath before she asked the question she had been forbidden to ask all of her life. “Who was my father?”

*

Lapetus focused, although it was a challenging prospect. It was as though the great well of old magic permeating the forests throughout The Village was conspiring against him, not really in a tangible, aggressive manner, but in a way that he could only describe as feminine. He smiled to himself, almost a seduction of sorts, soft, pervasive, distracting, so he could not see clearly, nor was he inclined to do so.

It would be easy, so simple, to let go and not concern himself with these intangibles. But it went against his grain. So, instead, he focused more deeply.

The face of Kian, his lieutenant, whom he had left in charge of the coven during his absence, rose in his mind.

“Brother,” Kian sent the thought forward. Lapetus had spent much time training his kin in the arts of thought transference and meditative skills.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Are you well? I haven’t been able to contact you.”

Lapetus thought about the cell phone he begrudgingly carried with him. Part of him always resisted the modern ways. “Yes, is there a problem?”

“No, no, some of us were concerned. That is all. We worried for your well-being. It’s not like you to be out of contact for so long.”

“I’ve been distracted. That is all. I’m not sure when I will return.”

“Yes, all is good here, my friend. Be well.”

“You also, Kian.” And then the image faded from his mind. He’d checked the phone not long ago. There were no messages or missed calls, almost as though things in this mystical valley were somehow being blocked. His mind wandered to Abra again. He could feel her downstairs in the bedroom, but in a quiet state.

He concentrated further, more deeply, and then took in a breath. Her body was indeed there, but her spirit was traveling. He leaned back, now completely zeroing in on following her to wherever she might be.

*

Her mother looked at her with genuine distress in her eyes at Abra’s question. “I know you told me not to ask, but I feel as though—”

“Yes, indeed, it is time,” her Gran said, coming to her feet. Seeing her this way was so strange, so much more vital and alert than she was now. These days, when she spoke to Michaela Jensen, she often sensed that she was in two places at once—her body still in the present, but her mind frequently already having moved on to the next plane.

Abra’s eyes settled on her Gran. “So,” she said softly.

And Michaela smiled broadly at Abra’s spunkiness at such a moment. “Sarah,” she instructed expectantly.

“Your father,” her mother’s voice sounded shaky. “I didn’t know him very long. He was visiting this place, drawn here.”

“Drawn?” Abra questioned, feeling a haunting familiarity.

“Yes, my dear,” her Gran said.

“Who was he?” Abra asked.

“But my dearest, is that the proper question?” Her Gran injected roughly, which, even in this astral state, Abra was beginning to find rather irritating.

“What does that mean?”

And then the old woman, who wasn’t quite as old anymore, moved right in front of her. “It means perhaps the question is not who he was, but what he was.”

She drew in a quick breath as something hit her, actually hitting her right between the eyes. And all she could think of just now was Lapetus.

*

There was a block, or rather a fog, around the place that Abra Jensen had traveled to, and he found that more than disconcerting. No doubt some sort of strong magic barred him from seeing, but Lapetus was not without his own arsenal.

He sank deeper, deeper into his meditative state until he found himself in a place where he’d spent some time long ago. It was in Prague under the tutelage of a sorcerer named Cyprian. The face of his old Master materialized before him.

Of course, Lapetus’ friend had moved on from this earth centuries ago, but he was still in contact with him occasionally, dropping in ostensibly on the past when he required guidance.

Now, he found himself in a very cold chamber, which he remembered well, a basement beneath a stone building. Here was where Cyprian often dabbled in alchemy. The old man was bent over a table, presently seeming to be chiseling stones that, if Lapetus was not mistaken, were made of obsidian. “Master Cyprian,” he said softly.

The white-haired, slight fellow dressed in a long red cloak looked up, his eyes as black as the gems he’d been working on. Of course, Lapetus was aware that he’d just connected with his body in that time frame, which was the simplest method of communication at this juncture. After all, given his longevity, it was the same body he existed in at present, whereas Cyprian was no longer of the flesh. “Lapetus,” he said in his rich Slovak accent. “Ahoj,” and then he frowned, staring at him with confusion. As if focusing intently, he spoke again slowly. “I will speak in your present language. You are in another time.”

“I am, my friend.”

The old man grimaced, and Lapetus felt him intently canvassing his mind. “I wouldn’t have thought it of you.”

“Nor I, my master, at this point I, would think myself well past such things.”

And then his former Master smiled. “We’re never past love, old friend.”

He felt uncomfortable hearing it phrased in such a way. “Is that what this is? Love?”

“I see. It’s been so very long for you, and such an occurrence is unrecognizable.”

And then he nodded. At this moment in his history, Lapetus wore a hooded robe as well, but his was purple, not matching his Master’s. Cyprian was fond of bold colors. “Well, my concern at present is more selective. There’s magic.”

And the old man leaned in, lightly touching his shoulder. “Yes, I can feel that about you. The old and powerful magic of the earth, those who wield it seem formidable within their sphere.”

“Yes, as I thought, a narrow scope.”

“Very narrow, it seems. And the one, the woman that binds you, is she a part of this?”

Lapetus sighed deeply. What a good question, a question, at present, he couldn’t answer. “Limited is what I believe. I have felt and touched her thoughts, and—”

“And she seems genuine to you.”

“I would have used the word innocent.”

“Innocent?” Cyprian murmured. “A state that is most difficult to hold onto.”

*

Abra stared blankly at both her mother and Gran, who seemed rather stoic at the moment. “What the hell does that mean? What he is?”

Her Gran from the past frowned at her in disapproval. “Show a little respect, child.”

“Answer me,” she demanded with so much irritation that she wanted to smack the old woman’s face.

And then she felt her mother reaching out and gently touching her arm. “Calm yourself, Abra. I know this is difficult. It was difficult for me. It is the way, the way it has always been.”

“What does that mean? The way it has always been. What has been?”

And then the stern voice of her Gran cut in. “Your father was a traveler, one from another dimension, an elemental. He was drawn here by the old magics, stayed long enough to conceive you, then left.”

Abra’s eyes widened at this bizarre pronouncement. “What? Why would he—”

“Your grandfather was a vampire from Albania. Your great-grandfather was a shapeshifter from England; before him was a warlock from Greenland.”

“Greenland? What, and they all just dropped in, hooked up, and left?”

Her mother backed away, head bent, as though she couldn’t look Abra in the eyes anymore. Her Gran peered at her sternly, an expression she remembered well from childhood. “No, Abra, these magical beings sired the Guardians of this sacred valley. And then were made to forget.”

She stood there, feeling her head swirling in dizziness. “A spell,” she whispered. “Lapetus said there was some sort of enchantment.”

“Yes,” her mother said softly. “To bring you two together.”

And then Abra looked at them both as a creeping sort of horror took hold of her. She’d been manipulated and lied to. “He can’t have children,” she whispered.

“This is a sacred place, strong in ancient magic. What is not possible becomes possible here,” her Gran stated emphatically.

“No,” she said, feeling herself trembling with rage.

And then her mother’s hands again, her mother who had died, the mother who, in this vision or whatever the hell it was, was now pregnant with her. She held both of Abra’s arms. “You must be calm, my daughter. You have a child to think of now.”

*

“There are a number of powerful energy points within the Northern Continent that will be known as The New World.”

“You can foresee this?” Lapetus asked Cyprian.

“Of course, you are not the only one who can traverse time.” Roughly, his old Master picked up a handful of obsidian stones on which he had carved archaic symbols and spread them out on the table before them. He lightly touched several of the stones, never manipulating their position. “It is an old coven if they can even be designated as such.”

“Then they’re not witches?”

“Not exactly,” Cyprian muttered. “It is more of a calling that binds them rather than personal advancement. They adhere to old ways and are led by the spirits of the land.”

“Guardians, protectors,” Lapetus murmured.

“Yes, yes, it seems so, and this—what was her name again?”

“Abra.”

“Ah, yes, Abra seems to be at the center of it. Always female, not the longest lifespan, but protectors of the old magic.”

“Yes, that is what she claimed.”

“And you doubt her?”

“No, no, actually, I don’t. I just don’t know what part I could possibly play in this.”

*

She wondered if she should take a moment to scoop her jaw off the floor because she certainly felt as though it was down there somewhere. “What did you say?”

“You heard your mother. You are with child.”

“That’s not true,” she stammered. However, her mind was now flipping back frantically through all the times in the last several days that she and Lapetus had made love with zero birth control. But then again, he had told her this was impossible.

“Not impossible here,” her Gran said flatly.

“Stop reading my mind,” she snapped out harshly.

“Abra, my dear. I know it is a shock,” her mother said.

And then she abruptly pulled out of her deceased mother’s grasp. “Ya think?”

“This is how the guardians have always been conceived.”

She stepped back further in recoil from both women. “How could you do this? How could you use me like this?”

And then her mother looked at her with deep upset in her green eyes. “You mustn’t look at it like this, Abra. It’s a blessing.”

“And Lapetus, you’re just going to cast a spell on him so he forgets all about me and never knows he has a child.”

“A daughter who will be a guardian like you,” her Gran explained.

“No, no,” she snapped. “I won’t force this on her.”

“It wasn’t forced on you, Abra.” Her Gran said somewhat harshly. “If you remember, you freely chose to stay here, chose to learn, and to become the protector of these sacred lands.”

“Did I?” she said shakily as unwanted tears began to slip down her face. “Or was it all some enchantment to make me believe there was a choice?”

“Of course, there is a choice, Abra,” her mother’s voice, so soft, so filled with anguish at her daughter’s upset. “I almost decided not to. I was quite young but was rejecting everything.”

Her Gran stared at her with a stony face. “Yes, that is true. The elders compelled me to have another child because it seemed your mother would never accept her calling.”

“Aunt Jo?”

“Yes,” Sarah murmured. “She would have been the protector if I had chosen not to. But I realized it was my burden and also my gift to serve.”

Abra stared at both women, dumbfounded. How could she not have known this was coming? But she never thought of it and wondered if that, too, was an enchantment placed upon her so she wouldn’t think clearly.

“Well, ladies, I have to admit this has been enlightening.” It was a voice, an unexpected intrusion. Abra felt her head absolutely swirl as Lapetus seemingly materialized out of a shadow from a far corner of the room.

“You cannot be here,” Michaela Jensen nearly screeched. “This is a protected space.”

“Yes, well, every spell has its flaws, I’m afraid. Even yours, it seems.”

*

Cyprian’s focus remained glued to the stones as though they were opening visions within him. “And what precisely do you require of me, old friend?”

Lapetus lightly tapped his fingers on the wooden table where Cyprian was now seated. “Yes, it seems my lady has gone traveling.”

“Traveling?” Cyprian glanced up at him with confusion on his face.

“Out of body, some sort of meditation that I am barred from.”

“Ah,” the old man said as though he’d quickly gleaned the situation. “And some sort of spell is keeping you from following her.”

“Yes, it appears there is more calculation here than meets the eye.”

Cyprian nodded slowly as though intently concentrating. “I can see this,” he murmured, pausing as though contemplating matters. “But I might ask you, my friend, if you’re quite sure you want to continue on this path. There is a window here I see, a possibility now to simply go and return to your old life and not embroil yourself in these domestic matters.”

“Domestic?”

“Oh, do not misread me. The events unfolding in your present time frame are of paramount importance to many, but they don’t necessarily have to be to you. You can walk away, forget the woman, and disengage yourself.”

There was a hesitation in Lapetus as his old Master’s words soaked in. “And if I don’t?”

Cyprian sighed with gravity. “If you don’t, it seems your presence will shift the course of things, more particularly your life.”

Lapetus considered, considered the very long and largely uneventful nature of his life as of late. Did he indeed want to return to such an existence, or did he want to explore a divergent path?

“It is something that should be seriously weighed. Your next move will change much, and not just for you. However, in response to your request, yes, I can assist you. The enchantment is not that strong. Its strength lies in its secrecy, which, as of now, has been effectively breached. So, take a moment before you choose, Lapetus.”

*

Michaela Jensen stepped forward in front of Abra and her daughter, Sarah, in a stance that Lapetus could only interpret as fiercely protective. Once he’d used Cyprian’s counter spell to breach the fog surrounding this gathering, it had been quite easy to follow the path that Abra’s spirit had taken here. “This is a private matter,” the woman rasped. “You must not interfere. It does not concern you.”

He raised an eyebrow and was more than deeply angered at this woman’s audacity. “This does not concern me? I believe you have just declared that it is my child that Abra is now carrying.”

“The child belongs to these lands, this earth. This sacred magic allowed her to be conceived,” she stated with rage in her voice. “You cannot interfere with our ways. They are ancient and sacred.”

“And I am just the facilitator for this miracle?” Lapetus asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. If she actually had a physical body at the moment, he would have propelled the old witch right through her lovely plate-glass window for daring to speak to him this way.

“Mother,” Sarah said, moving from behind Michaela. “Lapetus has a stake in what’s happening here. You can’t disregard him this way.”

“No, no,” Michaela said angrily. “We can’t disregard the old ways. The old ways are—”

“Old,” Abra stated flatly. Quietly, she walked around the two women and stood directly in front of Lapetus, her eyes filled with unshed tears. She reached out, took his hand, and said softly, “I am so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know we were being manipulated. I should have seen, but—”

Lightly, he put his fingertips on her lips to stop her from talking. “No, not your fault, my dear. Come with me, and we will decide what happens next.”

She grasped his hand firmly and moved beside him, but just then, the grandmother said harshly. “You should know, this child you carry, Abra, will not survive away from this place. Any more than you or your mother or any of us could survive for a prolonged period. The magic here helped create life, and its absence will take it away.”

*

By the time she returned to her body, Abra’s head was pounding unmercifully. It was too much, too much to take in, too much to absorb. All of it, it felt as though the whole fabric of her life, of everything she’d always believed, had been ripped away from her. Choice? Choice in anything? The mere suggestion of that was laughable. When had she ever had a choice?

“You should know, this child you carry, Abra, will not survive away from this place. Any more than you or your mother or any of us could survive for a prolonged period. The magic here helped create life, and its absence will take it away.”

That had come from her Gran, her beloved Gran who had been a mentor to her, a confidante, and now seemed like an adversary. Maybe she should just leave, pack her bags and test out their theory.

She had stared at her grandmother in total disbelief, caught somewhere between outrage and pain. How dare she? How dare they, all of them, keep so much from her, use her like some puppet, and now drag an innocent child into this, if indeed it was true at all that she was really pregnant. At this point, she doubted just about everything.

“What did you say?” she uttered in no less than total shock. And then her Gran’s face had frozen as though she suddenly realized the news she’d delivered and exactly how heartlessly she had done so.

“Abra, I am sorry. I am sorry to have told you this in such a way. But it is the truth. The Guardians are created here. We are magical beings who draw our strength and power from this earth. If you leave, if your child does so, it will become ill, weak, and eventually die.”

“Abra, darling, I’m so sorry,” her mother’s voice, her sweet voice that would be no more once she left this place.

“Is that why you stayed?” She asked her.

But her mother looked down and covered her mouth, indicating she was too overwhelmed to answer.

“Abra, much rests on your shoulders,” her Gran said sternly.

And then she turned back to her, filled with fury. “And you are a bitch. I hate you for this.”

But she never flinched, just stared at her with no expression. “Yes, I imagine you do.”

She couldn’t remember leaving, only a great swell of dizziness and now nausea as she sat at the foot of the bed in Lapetus’ rental home. Nausea, good lord, it couldn’t be that quick.

“Are you all right?”

She looked up, somewhat surprised and not surprised to see him standing in the doorway. “Oh, me? I’m delightful.”

And then he smiled grimly, walking into the room and quietly sitting beside her on the bed. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded slowly, “Which part? There seems to be a lot of regret to go around just now.”

And then he took her hand gently. “Not sorry about meeting you.”

She sighed, feeling the heavy weight of desolation washing over her. “Maybe sorry about rushing into things, though.”

With his other hand, he gently touched her on the stomach, closing his eyes. It was an odd feeling. She could sense a sort of tingling in the contact. Slowly, he opened his eyes, his hand dropping away.

“So?” she asked.

“It seems there is indeed a child.”

She nodded, “Yep, well, what do you want to do about it?”

Her eyes were so enormous, filled with fear, with pain, and with shadows. That, more than anything, he didn’t like. What was it Cyprian had said about innocence being so hard to hold onto?

He put his arm around her, pulling her close. Whatever spell had been placed on him and Abra at the outset, what was clear was that his draw to her had not diminished one bit, only become somewhat more complicated. “You’ve had a very upsetting time of it. You should rest.”

She leaned against him, laying her head on his shoulder. “You can’t possibly already be acting like a protective father,” she said.

“I am protective of you,” he murmured.

“Maybe we can leave together. I can go with you back to Europe, and we can have the baby there.”

He lightly touched her arm, stroking it gently. He didn’t want to say the obvious, though what Abra’s grandmother had said about the magic of this valley fueling this impossible conception did resonate with him. “This place has become so tainted for you?”

“I-I don’t know. I feel like I can’t trust anyone. People that I thought I could depend on, who I thought were on my side, were just manipulating me.”

“And you’re sure you can trust me, Abra?” he murmured.

And then she sort of stilled, straightening up. “I-I don’t know. Can I?”

He squeezed her hand, which he still held. It was quite the situation for him. His traditional tactic in most things was to find a way to gain the upper hand, but here, in this place, he’d been a different sort of individual and, oddly enough, wasn’t in a great rush to return to who he had been before. “Yes, yes, you can, my dear. And in that spirit, I will tell you something that might change everything.”

He felt her draw in a breath, a sharp, fearful breath that he could sense acutely as the side of her slight body was pressed right against his own. “What is it?” she whispered.

“When I placed my hand on you, I felt something.”

“The baby?”

“Yes, but not one baby. I felt two. I could sense a boy and a girl.”

She turned to him, her green eyes filled with confusion. “I don’t understand. It’s always supposed to be just a girl. That’s what they said.”

“Yes, but evidently, things are changing here in the Ouachita Valley.”

*

They didn’t speak of it much the rest of the day — these great matters. Closing in on the evening, they picked up food from an Italian restaurant in the Village and returned to Abra’s house. She’d thought to suggest getting a bottle of wine, but she didn’t. Already, things were changing in her life. She had a child, no, two children to consider. And a great part of her wanted very much to leave this place now. It had changed for her, or rather, something inside her had changed.

“Do you like working at the restaurant?” Lapetus asked out of the blue.

“Not really,” she murmured.

She was curled up on the sofa in the house with his arm around her. She dearly wished it were Winter, and they could light the fireplace to warm a chilled room. That was her favorite season here. “Have you thought of doing something else?”

“I’m taking classes at an online college. And thought maybe one day I might open some sort of a shop here in the Village, gift shop or something like that. I don’t know.”

“Do you still want to do that?”

She snuggled closer to him. “I did. I don’t know what I want now.”

He leaned over, kissing her softly. “Let things settle.”

“You don’t think I should leave.”

He seemed to hesitate before he answered. “I tend to believe the veracity of what your grandmother said. What’s happened, well, I did not believe was possible.”

She nodded. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t want to do this alone.”

He held her closely, “You mean you don’t want me to leave and forget you and our children?”

“No, I don’t want that.”

“Neither do I,” he said softly. “I can’t be here all the time. I have obligations as well. But I do want to watch our children grow, and I want to be beside their mother.”

She smiled, feeling a warmth spread about her heart. “I want that too, Lapetus.”

“So, tomorrow I’ll find you a ring to hold the place of the one I will have made for you back home.”

She smiled at the prospect, “A ring?”

“Yes, of course,” he murmured. “An engagement ring.”

Again, she smiled. She was going to be Mrs. Werewolf. “You know, I don’t even know your last name.”

“There have been many.”

“Well, you’ll have to settle on one.”

“Understood,” he said softly, kissing her again.

“You know, Aunt Jo left some tea in the cabinet that is supposed to make you forget me.”

“Really? What are you going to do with it?”

“I thought I might flush it down the toilet. What do you think?”

“I think that’s an excellent plan, my dear one,” he said softly.

Copyright © 2025 by Evelyn Klebert

The Story of Enid: Vol. 2 of the Clandestine Exploits of a Werewolf

What happens when your one true love reincarnates, and you just happen to be a werewolf?

Ethan Garraint is an old soul. He has been alive for hundreds of years, battling countless challenges and foes along the way — not the least of which was living through the genocide of the Cathar people at Montsegur, a society that wholly embraced him despite his lycanthropic nature. But in Volume 2 of The Clandestine Exploits of a Werewolf, he faces a dilemma that brings his past and present full circle, merging them both.

In The Story of Enid, the sequel to The Broken Vow

Long ago, before he was Ethan Garraint, before the Cathars, before he became a werewolf, he was a man living in a land where enchantment ruled. He was a Knight known as Geraint who served a King. And it was then that he met the one woman who would own his heart.

“There was someone for you once.”

“Yes, a long time ago.”

“Someone very special to you that, I think, perhaps you still mourn.”

“She was my wife.”

“And she left you.”

“Not of her free will, but yes, most do.”

When one realizes that a long-lost soulmate has been reincarnated, it poses some complications. When you have been a werewolf for nearly a millennium, the complications explode exponentially. Ethan Garraint understands that he should stay far away from Erin Holt, but she is in his city, New Orleans, and possibly in danger. And the truth is, he doesn’t want to stay away. He only wants to remind her of the lifetime they lived long ago, when they were more than lovers, when they became legend.

Coming Soon!!

A Murder in the Village and Other Mystical Tales of the Ouachita Mountains

At the foothills of the Ouachita Mountains, into their ancient heart, and even perhaps into nearby unexplored dimensions, slip into a series of supernatural short stories. Take a mystical diversion that could very well land you into a realm at the least unexpected and at the most horrifying. But what is clear is that no one, ever, will emerge as they were before.