The Good Elf – Book the First

Available on Amazon.com

Hannah Ladd is a Washington, D.C. resident and business owner. Practical and down-to-Earth. She was clueless that magic even existed. That was before she accepted an invitation for a dinner date with a tall, dark, and handsome man named “G” she met at a Sci-Fi/Fantasy convention. He not only tells her that both of her business partners are witches but that he is a dark elf. He thinks she might be a white elf.

At least the dinner was excellent. The conversation could best be described as strange.

The Novice Elf — Chapter 2

It didn’t seem possible, but Friday night a week later I found myself wearing my nicest dress, sitting in the passenger seat of G’s car. And oh boy! It was a hot car. A forest-green convertible with a tan-interior. According to G, it was a collector’s item, a 1957 Porsche 356 Speedster. I don’t think he was bragging because he only mentioned that when I commented on how beautiful it was. He didn’t brag about the price, either, which earned him points. I know nothing about collectible cars but I could add. This beauty was over sixty years old. It was a Porsche. It was a convertible in immaculate condition. I imagine it must cost as much as a small house. Maybe not in the DC metro area but out in the burbs.

Not that I’m a great judge of men’s clothing, although I am in the clothing business after a fashion. I do know a thing or two. G was wearing an expensive suit. Several thousand dollars expensive. I was outclassed. My designer dress was purchased at one of Macy’s seventy percent off sales. I used my Macy’s card to get an additional fifteen percent off. If you can believe the tag, it originally listed for around nine hundred.

My two somewhat over-protective friends, once I told them I was having dinner with G, tried to talk me out of going on a date with a strange man I met over drinks at fantasy and science fiction convention. To my mind, really, how much worse was that than going out with someone I met in a bar, or the grocery store, or for that matter, in a classroom? Jessie insisted on installing a “find me” anywhere app on my phone. Yes, I almost fussed that a) I’m an adult and b) she’s not my mother.

Before I risked upsetting her, it dawned on me that dating was always a potentially dangerous pastime. Date-rape was an ugly but real situation. I didn’t want to become one of the statistics. Besides, I was still having questions about him asking me out instead of one of my hot friends. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as pleased as punch about it. That’s an odd saying. But I’ve never been the one in our trio men gravitate toward. Most of my dates were with friends of whatever guy Jessie or Kimmie was currently leading around by the nose. Sometimes, not frequently, and I know it’s petty of me, I wonder if the girls went out with a plain-looking woman to contrast their own beauty. The fact is, I don’t have an outgoing personality. If I didn’t have them to socialize with, mousy little me would spend most of my time alone in my apartment. Probably with three cats. I mean, they’re so cute when they’re kittens. Right?

It occurred to me that if G only wanted sex, he might have been less concerned than otherwise about the package it came in. He may have considered me an easy, relatively weak mark. I’m not desperate. I’m not easy, either. And, for what it’s worth, I’m stronger than I look. Always have been. Still, we installed the app and checked that it worked.

I dressed up for the date but didn’t bother about more than the most basic makeup. It never did much good. Possibly because I didn’t really know what I was doing. So I put on lipstick, a touch of eyeshadow, a little mascara and left it at that.

G got to my building exactly when he said he would. I walked down the stairs, only slightly unsteady on my heels, and met him at the door. He told me I looked good. I think I detected a wisp of surprise in his voice but that could have been my imagination. On the other hand, I was wearing a dress I bought because it accentuated my curves. I thought it was elegant.

He held the door for me as I got into the car. Once he was seated behind the wheel, he put it in gear and zipped away from the curb. We were less than a mile from my apartment when he handed me a card. It was a simple three-by-five index card with writing on the back.

Then the idiot plugged in his phone and heavy metal came crashing from the speakers. “Hannah, please don’t say anything. Before we go to dinner I would like you to humor me and do this one thing I ask of you. Yes, I know this sounds weird. It’s important to me, but I can’t explain why until after you’ve done it. Just read the words on the card for me. The spelling is phonetic.”

Instead I asked, “Is G short for something? How do you spell it?”

“Yes, it short for my real name. It’s spelled ‘G.’ Just the letter G. I’m rebelling against my parents, I think. They hate it when they hear people call me G. Please read the card for me.”

Should I have been scared? I wasn’t. I turned the card over and examined the writing on the back. It seemed harmless enough. “Wika elaba rium grildakon woosha.” His damn car lit up as his ring, the trinket I was still wearing on my thumb because, well, it didn’t look at all tacky, flashed orange-gold.

I sat very still. He mercifully shut off his playlist. As he drove, seemly not in the least startled by the flashing ring, he said, “My name is thirty-two letters and twelve syllables long. I might tell you what it is someday, but not tonight.”

He handled the four-speed, manual transmission expertly. That was about all I could think of for a while. We were driving through downtown DC. There was a lot of stopping for red lights.

A mile or two later, I was finally able to ask, and I think I did a damn fine job of keeping my voice level, thank you very much, “What was that?”

He smiled but kept his eyes on the road. “Good, you’re self-possessed. That should make things easier. That was magic, my dear.”

Oh, really? Magic? And there I was thinking flashing jewelry was an everyday occurrence, available at the jewelry counter in Target. While I’m sure Jessie would have issued that snarky commentary out loud, I kept it to myself. “Like the trick with you slipping the ring on my thumb in the first place?”

“Neither was a trick, Hannah. Real magic. Over dinner tonight, I would like to begin to tell you the real history of the world and why you’re important.”

“The real history of the world?”

“Yes. There are two worlds. The magical realm and the mundane. Physically, they’re the same.”

Don’t go there yet. “What was on the card?”

“The ring I gave you is a carefully crafted talisman. It’s intended to protect the wearer against negative magic. The app your friend put on your phone, whether her intentions were good or not, falls into that category. It can’t be turned off. Not only would Jessie know exactly where you are, she’d be able to hear everything said within range of your phone. I’m hoping that awful music drowned out our voices. Jessie is a dark witch. I don’t care to have her eavesdropping on us.”

“Oh, really? So you’re assuming Jessie gave me the app rather than Kimmie or one of the other dozens of people I know. What about Kimmie?”

“White witch. Yes, I’m don’t have evidence pointing to your friend Jessie. My claiming it was her was an assumption. Please don’t be freaked out. I asked you out a week ago. Since then I have checked out your other friends. They’re all normal. Not witches. Kimmie is ignorant of Jessie’s affiliation, at least as far as I can tell. White and dark usually don’t associate with each other.”

“You?”

“Yes, what about me? I’m a dark elf. That’s a secret, by the way.”

“Elves are real?”

“What? You accepted witches and are questioning elves?”

“Well, all of the fantasies portray witches as regular humans who are able to do magical things. Elves are always non-human. Witches are easier to accept. Although, I haven’t accepted any of this. Just so you know. This might be a good time to mention that I have pepper spray in my purse. Does being a dark elf mean you’re evil?”

He didn’t laugh. In fact, his expression turned rather grim. “It may have started out that way. I don’t know. The split with the whites was long before my time. But even then, I think it was probably propaganda spread by the whites. We’ll cover that in the history lessons.”

“I wasn’t going to ask but you started this weird conversation. Why did you ask me out rather than one of my beautiful witch friends?”

His expression still grim, he asked, “Why do you think witches are hanging out with you?”

“You’re answering a question with a question. I hate that. I don’t know. We’re business partners. I guess they like me. I like them. I doubt they’re witches.”

“Kimmie does like you, I think. Jessie may want to use you for your power.”

“I don’t have any power.”

“Yes, about that.” He paused as he downshifted and accelerated past the car immediately in front of him. “You do. You’re a white elf.”

By then, I was thinking this dinner better be worth the nonsense. “If I’m a white elf and you’re a dark elf, are we mortal enemies?”

“Heavens, no. I hope not.”

“You want me to believe I’m a white elf, Kimmie’s a white witch and both you and Jessie went to the dark side? I don’t think I believe any of this.”

He sighed. “Sadly, that’s typical. We’ll talk more over dinner.”

At that point, I was thinking of the pepper spray in my purse. And not as a seasoning for my food.

The Novice Elf is available on Amazon.com