Zanderbolt and the Ice Queen (Urban Wizard Fantasy / New Adult / Romance)

The Masquerade

The room was dimly lit. The faint smell of various fine wines—aged and refined, wafted through the air. It took me only a few seconds to reorient my awareness as I appeared from the mirror in a flash of yellow light. I glanced to the left, seeing Eleanora beside me. Her head shook from left to right, undoubtedly, to regain her awareness.

I said, "Here we are." I did not need to whisper as my voice was always at such a tone. Yet I took care to lower it anyway. My eyes darted around the wine cellar which appeared to be deserted, the Sentinel Wick's flame whirled around here, there and everywhere with a mauve color—magic was at work all around. It meant we would have to be extra careful proceeding during the operation: lest we become ensnared in some sinister enchantment or the other. On the one hand, we too, could employ the same with sensibilities.

I glanced back at the long, body mirror crafted into the wall—made of obsidian—just like Jeffery's and mine at the Zanderbolt mansion. We appeared to be alone, though I figured Salamander must have been close by: it was the only way I could command the mirror to take me to him and end up here successfully.

Eleanora said, "Good, I can't wait to put a sharp icicle through Jackson Kent's heart."

"That time will come soon. I noticed before your hand was warm, how do you feel?"

"Warm, I feel completely warm all over," she said, running her left hand over her right arm. "The dress' enchantment worked."

"Good, my liaison said he would be here just after ten to give us a status update on Jackson." I procured my wand and waved the end of its length around the opened palm of my right hand, thrice. The gold pocket watch which appeared showed that it was ten on the dot.

"Hopefully he comes soon," she said, eyeing the watch. "We don't have any time to waste."

I suddenly perceived another presence. I kept my wand at the ready. The sound of approaching footsteps could have alerted Eleanora that we were not alone, as her eyes narrowed and were focused before us: beyond the tall, wine-filled shelves we stood between.

A tall figure with a man's form appeared around the shelves—dressed in a black cloak, and holding a long black wand, which to the casual observer might have appeared to be a cane. The dark raven's mask concealed the figure's face.

Eleanora gasped as he approached. Her right hand extended outward—a white mist swirled around her palm. It would be a fatal spell if it connected at such a close range—though I steadied her hand. "Easy, that's him," I said.

"That outfit. It's the same as the wizards who killed my family," she replied cautiously. "Who are you? Talk now!" She ordered the approaching man—the swirl transforming a long icicle aimed hazardously at his body.

The man's hands shot up. "Whoa, whoa, easy there." He said, with a light chuckle. It was undoubtedly Salamander.

I lowered her hand steadily. "It's okay."

Her hand descended with slight resistance, the dangerous point of ice disappearing as her arm hung loosely at her side.

Salamander said, "Glad you two made it in time, I was getting bored knocking out Jackson's goons."

My brow raised. "Why are you dressed that way? It's definitely not Enchantless guard clothing."

"Oh, the scumbag Jackson Kent seems to be paranoid as ever. At the last minute he decided to employ the Black Hand Wizards for protection instead of Enchantless"—he shrugged—"I had to knock out a few of 'em to prepare the mirror, and I took the outfit to sneak about."

"I see, of course he wouldn't have simply just used Enchantless as guards," I said thoughtfully. "Where is she? Our friend." He would know I meant Aster.