The Princes of Ravenwood

Chapter 1

I concentrated on the purplish-blue, translucent well of power cupped in my hands. I liked to think of it as a soap bubble, although I knew it made others nervous when I compared the power used to shield with anything that ephemeral. The small mass gleamed with iridescent rainbows and slowly I breathed into it pushing power out with my breath in a steady stream. I expanded the mass so that it spilled past my hands, growing ever wider until the soap bubble was the size of a beach ball and hollow inside, now truly a bubble instead of a blob. Steadily it grew, for now maintaining its round shape. When it was large enough, I stepped inside, the iridescent shield parting like water around me, letting me into it and then folding back behind me, sealing the bubble as though I made no more of an impact than dipping my toe in a really big pond.

Slowly, I expanded the bubble around me making it larger and larger. As it pressed against the walls of the small building, the shape changed. No longer round, my former bubble draped the insides of the walls, clinging to support beams and exposed wiring like a shimmering, almost solid liquid. It flowed around ceiling joists and fit snuggly into every nook and cranny of the floorboards, seeping through the miniscule spaces between the boards and reforming below their surface to coat the subflooring beneath.

I felt my shield reach its intended boundaries and adhere to the surface. Satisfied, I stopped pumping power into the shield and locked it into place, my shielding becoming as much a part of the building as the footings and the roof shingles. As I let the shield go, separating myself from my creation, it pulsed for a moment settling itself. The rainbows became brighter, shimmering along its surface in shivering waves. It grew brighter and brighter until it flashed blindingly white and disappeared. Although the shield could no longer be seen in its entirety, even by me, who still felt it, I knew the others would have seen the flash and know the shield was active, my work complete. Those who lived and visited here would never know the shield was there, going in and out of the building completely unaware of its presence, however now, no shadow creature could pass into the building harming those taking refuge inside.

I sighed and felt the weariness descend into my very bones. This had been a large job, larger than my usual. I grew accustomed to working for those rich enough to live in large sprawling edifices; after all they were the ones most able to meet the fee the Commission set for my work. My only skill in the magical community may have been setting shields, something one scheduled on a construction plan somewhere after the wiring was inspected and before the insulation was installed, but I was very good at creating those shields.

Hence, the large fee.

Still this was quite a feat, even by my standards. In addition to the fifteen thousand square foot main house, there was the pool house, with pool, of course, boat house beside the man-made lake, tennis courts, dog house, what seemed like miles of winding pathways and this final piece, the guest house. I wasn't quite sure how the construction of the dog's house came to be finished first, but thought it might have been considered part of the house plans, despite its elaborate two story design, rather than a greater interest in canine comfort over houseguests.

Luckily, no matter how fancy it looked, the dog house was relatively simple, construction wise, possibly contributing to its quick build out. I still had to crawl inside on hands and knees through the doggie door and sit in the center of the space while being watched by a very curious and somewhat puzzled Labradoodle, named Swizzle Stick, but at least the dog's relatively large size meant that I could fit through the doggie door in the first place. While I wasn't built like a linebacker, I knew that as a five-foot-four woman, I wasn't squeezing into a house designed for a tea cup poodle.

But the dog house was completed several hours previously. I shook off my exhaustion and started for the door. This was my last bit of work for this particular estate. I knew from experience, that the owners would be keen to have me gone, they always were. Not only would they be eager for construction to resume, but I made them nervous.

I was not one of the powerhouses of the hidden magical world. I couldn't conjure illusions or call lightning. I couldn't call rain storms or even a light breeze to cool me on a hot day. Casting spells of any sort was well beyond my ability. I couldn't do anything showy; I could just create shields. It disappointed me when I was younger. Knowing some of the things that lurked in the darkness waiting to feed on anyone with magic in their blood no matter how weak, I grew up with a healthy dose of fear. For the most part, I learned to accept my own limitations.

The fact that those much more powerful than me, who were capable of important and brilliant feats of magic, still had to call someone like me to layer protections on their house to keep the nasty things away so they didn't have to fight them, always made those I worked for somewhat uncomfortable. They compensated by thinking of me as one of the lesser trades. I had the feeling I ranked somewhere below plumber, but maybe above painter.

On a good day at least.

Sometimes, I was fairly certain I was thought of more as the smoke alarm than one of the trades. As in my normal life I worked in the family furniture business, refinishing, upholstering and, on occasion, using my degree in design to actually create new furniture pieces, I didn't mind. It meant that I got to spend my time with the construction crew instead of forced into uncomfortable small talk with the family. The small talk I left to my handler. He didn't seem to mind it, well, with them anyway. He wasn't fond of small talk with me. I wasn't important enough for the effort to pay off, so he rarely bothered. Over the years, the association with the various trades let me add assorted skills to my repertoire, even though carpentry remained my strong point. Occasionally, it came in useful and I always liked learning new skills.

I reached the door of the guest cottage and took one more look around before leaving. Here and there I caught little glimmers of rainbow, like someone was blowing bubbles in the construction site earlier and a few of the bubbles splattered on the support beams. I knew these last remnants would fade by morning and all would seem normal when the construction crews came back to begin their insulation work prior to putting up the dry wall.

The inspectors already approved all of the plumbing and electric and the contractor in charge, the only person from the crew still on site at the moment, was as much a part of the magical community as I was, though I had yet to learn what his specialty entailed. He never volunteered and I never asked. It was considered rude to pry into such things and as he was frequently the nicest on site to me, I wanted to keep on his good side. If any tell-tale residue lasted until the morning light, it would soon be buried under the spray foam they were planning to use for insulation. It was doubtful anything would be noticed.

Satisfied with my work, I opened the door and left it behind. The family was nowhere to be seen. In truth, I didn't really expect them. I rarely saw the various owners on any site except at a distance when they came to inspect the property and check on the progress. Now, they would be even less likely to put in an appearance. It was just shy of three in the morning and corralling the various trades, including me, was what they paid the contractor for in the first place.

The contractor in question was known as Davis. I was pretty sure it was a last name, but in the time I had known him, I never heard him called anything other than just plain Davis. There was never a Mister attached to the front of it or a Mike, Dave, John, Bob or what have you appended either, just Davis. It was another thing I never asked him about.

Davis was standing a few feet away from the building, wearing his habitual scarred work boots, faded jeans and t-shirt emblazoned with his construction company's logo, the company aptly named Davis Construction. In deference to the cold, he tossed an old mud brown Carhartt jacket over the t-shirt. Light spilled from the open door into the night. As my work was finished, I snapped off the light as I closed the door behind me and walked over to Davis. His breath puffed white in the light of the faux streetlights the family installed on their estate near the winding paths connecting the separate pieces of the property. The base of each of those light posts served as an anchor for the shields protecting the pathway.

Davis stood with his back to the light, his face in shadows, expression unreadable. We started the shielding when the last of the crews left for the day around five. Despite working with him before, I wasn't certain how he felt about standing around so long while I did my thing. Usually when he stayed after hours with me we were off site by ten at the latest.

"Sorry it took so long, " I told him. The cold stung my cheeks and made me shiver. I realized my coat was still in the car. When the sun was still in the sky, it wasn't cold enough to need it. It certainly was now.

"You look tapped out, Alice, " he responded. His arm moved and I saw he was holding out his thermos. "It's hot."

"Thanks, " I said nodding. "I could use the caffeine hit." He poured the coffee into a Styrofoam cup and handed it to me. I wrapped my hands around it for warmth and took a sip, finding the brew was already doctored with cream and sugar.