The Wizard and His Wife

Oh, my God, he’s delusional. Shocked she hadn’t in any way seen this coming, she forced her voice into what she hoped was a soothing tone. “Of course. I see. Sweetheart, have you told anyone else this? Buck...or Annie?”

He didn’t answer, just gave her a pitying look, which she thought odd since he was obviously the one to be pitied.

“How long have you been having these thoughts?” She didn’t dare call them fantasies. That would definitely be a loaded word. “Are you on any medications?”

Come to think of it, she’d never seen David take anything, not even an aspirin.

“Have you stopped taking them? Or—”

“Damn it, Megan. I’m na havin’ hallucinations...an’ I’m na off my meds, because I’ve ne’er been on any.” With his anger, his accent thickened and the force of it made her take several steps backward.

“Of course, darling. Just calm down.”

How long will it be before he starts raving? Am I in any danger? Does Ossian know? Should I call him?

“You do na believe me.” He looked away. “ O’ course. Why should you? If I were a human an’ my wife had just been tellin’ me what I’ve told you, I would na believe it aithur.” He turned back. “Megan, do you love me?”

“Of course I do.” Yes, my poor deluded darling. Do you have to ask? Another thing she didn’t say aloud.

“Then, will you be givin’ me th’ benefit of a doubt, an’ let me explain?”

“I—” As he frowned at her slight hesitation , she rushed on, “Tell me.”

“Sit down.” His voice was quiet now, so soft it was almost a whisper. “Please.”

Megan sat in the Chippendale chair, hands folded in her lap and listened to the story her husband had to tell...

...of a country in another dimension. A world called Ais Linn, where his people the Ailiff Fae lived, a people blessed with the gift of Power. Of their discovery of secret openings, portals leading into another plane, to a planet called Earth. Of their moving between those worlds...

“We found it fair an’ the people likewise. They thought us magical an’ we let them think it.”

He told her of his family, the Tiarnas of Geal Tina and their opposite number, the Tiarnas of Doit Tina; how the Lord of White Fire learned the Lord of Dark Fire was planning to invade Earth and take his evil there...

“...we sent guardians to protect each portal an’ keep them from comin’ through, an’ so far, we’ve succeeded.” David began pacing again. He paused before the fireplace, leaning against the smooth black stone mantel. “My Uncle Seamus was one o’ th’ guardians. When he retired, I was chosen to take his place.”

He paused, waiting for her reaction. She could see he was tense, no doubt expecting her to stand up and denounce him as a lunatic. Megan found she was clenching her hands tightly, fingers twisting around each other to keep from doing exactly that.

“OK. Let’s suppose for a minute I believe this business of parallel worlds and transdimensional portals.” She forced her voice steady and not to tremble.

David sounded so convincing, so rational. But he would, wouldn’t he? To someone deranged, don’t his beliefs always make perfect sense?

“Suppose? Meggie, Stephen Hawking would blanch at hearin’ you say that.”

Even Megan knew who those two were but she wasn’t about to let herself be sidetracked into a discussion of theories. She’d lose that argument fast.

“We’re pretty technologically advanced. What can these Lords of Dark Fire possibly do to us? And if there’s a guardian at each portal— How many are there, anyway? How can they get through?” She stopped, thought of something else and before he could speak, asked quickly, “You said, so far we’ve succeeded. What’s about to change that?”

“Our astronomers have warned that sometime soon there’ll be a planetary alignment. A harmonic convergence. Every planet in your Solar System, includin’ Pluto—though ’tis no longer considered a planet, and that’s a pity, sure enough—will be lined up directly with th’ sun,” David answered. “When that happens, th’ wards on th’ portals will weaken as will each guardian’s power. Th’ Dark Lords will find it easy to get through. That’s one reason I was sent.”

“Why? What’s so special about you?” Megan asked. As he scowled, she added, “I mean, you’re special to me, of course, but what power do you have that could keep the Dark Lords at bay?”

God, listen to me, I sound as if I believe him. This isn’t going to do his delusion any good. Still, if I can understand it...

“I was sent because...” David hesitate, utter despair on his handsome face. “Why should I bother tellin’ you? I’m seein’ you do na believe me.”

“No, no.” She tried to force her expression into something soothing and positive. “I believe you. Really. I just want to...need to...know more.”

“I was sent because…because I’m a wizard,” he said, in a tone of defeat, as if he were incriminating himself. Because he knew she didn’t believe and she knew he knew it. “I’m th’ Champion of Ais Linn, son of King Padraig th’ Defender an’ th’ Elders thought if I were here perhaps my presence would prevent th’ invasion.”

“Oh. You’re a wizard. I see.” She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “First, you say you’re a faery, now you’re a wizard. Which is it? Better get your stories straight.”

Otherwise you’re going to give the psychiatrists a field day and enough data for a continuing series in the National Psychiatric Journal.

“Damn it, Megan!” He made an angry gesture, slapping his hands against his thighs. “What can I do to make you believe me?”

“Prove it.” Call his bluff. There’s no way he can prove what he says is true. Perhaps that’ll snap him out of it.

“What?” He looked as if he misunderstood.

“You heard me. Prove to me you’re a faery, I mean, a wizard. Go on. Show me how you look when you’re in World Champion Defender Wizard-form.”

“All right.” He didn’t even pretend to think about it, simply stalked a few feet away and turned back to face her. He thrust both hands in front of him, fingers outspread, palms toward his body.

That pose looked familiar. It was a minute before Megan realized she’d seen it before, in a recent movie about a wizard. She remembered how closely David had watched the scenes where the actor playing the main character worked his “magic.”

“You’re serious.” If she’d been merely upset before, now, Megan was actually frightened. He really thinks he’s some type of extra-terrestrial supernatural being. Oh, David.

“Damn right.” The hands moved apart, one above his head, the other hovering near his waist. He brought them together. They passed each other. “There! Would you be thinkin’ this better?”

All Megan could do was stare.

Where David had been, there now stood an old man...a very old man...with long snowy-white hair and a longer snowy-white beard. Wearing a black floor-sweeping robe spangled with crescent moons and stars. On the white hair perched a pointed cap, its peak so tall it had creased and fallen over under its own weight, the tip touching his shoulder.

“Who are you supposed to be Merlin?” She was out of the chair before she realized it, running toward him only to skid to a stop and approach a little more cautiously. “Where’s David?”

Sighing, Merlin looked down at her.

“I’m David,” he informed her with a dignified British accent. “World-Champion-Defender-class Wizard.”

“Hah!” Later, she would marvel at her ability to be so sarcastic. “You could have fooled me.” Flippantly, she added, “Love the hat, by the way.”

“My apologies, my darling.” Looking a little insulted, he swept her a bow that skimmed his sleeves across the carpet. “But this is your idea of how a wizard should look, isna it?” He waggled a finger at her. “I’ve lived with you long enough to know how that cute little mind o’ yours works, Meggie.”

“David.” Briefly, her voice held infinite patience. I’ll get angry later at that last remark. “Show me how you look. Really.”

“Very well.” The hands moved again, performing the same gesture. Merlin disappeared. David stood in his place.

David. But not David… Megan stifled a gasp. Oh my God, this is definitely not my husband.

It was the same handsome face, Megan admitted, but changed. Thinner, paler. Copper brows winged above his eyes, not arching as they had before, but arrow-straight. And the eyes themselves... Green like David’s but...there’s no white in them. They were like an animal’s, the entire eye a deep green iris.

That, however, wasn’t the most disturbing thing. Protruding from his forehead were antenna. Not butterfly-like but smoky, feathery moth-ish tendrils floating in the air above his head. They wavered back and forth, like seaweed drifting in a stream, then stiffened and pointed in her direction.

As if they’ve sensed me...homing in... All Megan could think of were some animated insect’s antenna, weaving back and forth accentuating whatever that character said.

He turned his head slightly, an ear twitching, and Megan stared. Nearly lobeless, peaked on top. The left one sported a small golden ring with an emerald set in it. She recognized it. It was her wedding present to him.

As he shifted his weight impatiently, Megan allowed her gaze to move down the creature's body, past a tanned chest dusted with coppery hair to a slim waist, and—

“David! Why are you naked?”

And why am I shocked? She’d seen him that way from their wedding night on. He always slept nude. Because what I’m looking at definitely does not belong to my husband.

“’Twas going to be your next question, wasna it? Am I like a human male? I thought I’d save you th’ trouble o’ askin’.” The familiar voice coming from the creature’s mouth shook her slightly.

“D-David.” Her voice trembled and she wasn’t certain if it was laughter or a desire to cry. She gestured sharply. “You know damned well that is not normal...in any respect.” She forced her eyes away from what lay below his waist and began walking around him.

She thought she saw a bit of a smirk cross the generous mouth. Has he always been like this? How could I not have noticed? She started to think back to their wedding night. To give it a frame-by-frame scrutiny. Decided not to.

She had to admit he certainly looked like David, aside from those little...uh...big... differences. Same muscular body, same coppery curls, but his hair was so much longer, falling past his waist in a tangle, several locks twisting to actually caress the division of his buttocks. She nearly reached out and touched those curls, clenched her fingers into a fist to prevent it. There was a fast-growing desire to stroke her fingers down his skin. See if it felt as satiny-smooth as it looked.

OK, so this is David… the real David... and I really don’t have an argument with the way he looks, even with…  I guess the main problem is the wings.

Dragonfly-like, they didn’t come from under his shoulder blades as she’d always suppose wings should, but grew on each side of his upper spine. Not the tiny things shown in drawings of fairies either, but equaling David’s height. Delicately translucent in bronzes, blacks, and golds, a Monarch butterfly’s wing-colors magnified.

They fluttered slightly. Megan had to dodge to keep from being struck as the right one swept upward, shedding a fine dust sifting gently onto the antique Persian carpet. It glittered a moment before disappearing.

Gingerly, she touched the wing, running her fingers along the heavy mast-bone. It was soft as a swatch of velvet, and warm. Megan pressed her fingers against it, letting its heat flow into her hand. She would swear she felt a pulse beating against her palm.

The wing quivered. It suffused crimson, masking briefly the other colors.

“Meggie, please.” David's voice trembled in unison with the wing’s movements, quite a different sound from his previous belligerence. “My wings are one huge erogenous zone. If you do na stop touchin’ it, darlin’, I’ll be after sportin’ an embarrassin’ woodie. An’ I’m thinkin’ th’ parlor’s naught th’ proper place for that.”

She jerked her hand away, didn’t dare check the truth of what he was saying, just continued walking around him, waiting until she was facing him again before she spoke, with her gaze firmly fixed on his face.

“Fairies are supposed to be small. They can sit in the palm of your hand.” Raising her outstretch hand to emphasize this, she brought out her last argument and to her own ears, it sounded weak. “You said you’re one of the little people. There’s no way you could ever fit into anyone’s hand.”

He spouted a soft chuckle.

“Not all of you anyway.”

“Megan, darlin’.” He was laughing out loud now, not trying to hide it, regarding her with those depthless green eyes. “You’re thinkin’ o’ sprites. I’m a Troopin’ Faery an’ we’re th’ same size as you humans, an’ that’s where th’ trouble starts.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, ’tis to our shame we’re attracted to duine—you mortals—us bein’ who we are an’ you bein’ who you are. Sure now, you’re a beautiful people, you know? An’ we like that. Besides, ’tis common knowledge humans find faeries irresistible. ” Sorrow swept across the beautiful face. “Especially th’ babes...th’ halflings...an’ ’tis for that reason, I thought to delay us from havin’...”

His voice trailed away and he turned his head, as if ashamed.

Of what? Megan wondered. His weakness in falling in love with her? Or some unknown unhappiness his love was now going to bring them?

“All right.” Megan’s voice was a whisper of defeat. “I believe you. Would you please make yourself look like David again?”

“But I do look like me.”

“My David. Please?”

“Your wish is my command, darlin’.” Once more the hands gestured and David, in sweatshirt and jeans, stood before her. “So you believe me?”

“Didn’t I say so?” Her voice was sharp. “Okay, you’re a faery, giant economy size, and— You mentioned glamour. What’s that?”

“A spell. To make mortal eyes see what I want them to see.”

“That's why I didn’t see the wings and antenna before?” As he nodded, another thought struck her. “Is this house under a glamour, too?”

“It is.”

“Then take it off.”

He didn’t move.

“Now.”

The left hand gestured. “Glamour gone, Megan, as you wish.” The look he gave her was hopeful.

He’s wanting me to tell him it’s all right, that everything is fine now. Can’t he see nothing is fine? That everything, our entire lives, has been turned completely upside-down?

“David, I’m sorry.” Suddenly, she felt exhausted. And she definitely didn’t want any more surprises tonight. “I need to lie down.”

“In a moment, Megan. First, we have to talk.”

“Later.” The weariness in her voice was no sham. It was either leave or collapse. “Right now, I need to think. About you...our marriage...all this.”

“You would na leave me?” There was panic in the question. “God, Megan, we’ve ne’er had a divorce in th’ family, aithur. Am I going to be th’ first to do that, too?”

She wanted to yell at him, call him selfish in his worry. Instead, Megan turned back, touching his cheek lightly, a gentle, loving pat, before turning away again.

Shoulders slumping, she left the room.

David didn’t move, listening to her footsteps echo down the hallway. Only after they died away did he reach for the leather bell-pull near the mantle.

“Master?” Ossian appeared in an instant. Since Megan wasn’t in sight, he’d transported himself rather than walking.

“Make me a drink.” David threw himself into the other Chippendale, watching as the manservant hurried to the sideboard where the liquor decanters were displayed. “Irish whisky. A double. Straight.”

“Very well, sir.” Ossian frowned as he obeyed. He hadn’t been eavesdropping but the

rise and fall of the master’s voice had carried through the heavy door and now… For

Master Tavy to request Ossian make him a drink, that most menial of tasks, and such a

strong one...

Somethin’ is definitely wrong.

Selecting a highball glass, he gestured at the whiskey decanter, sending the stopper hovering into the air, waited while the huge cut-glass bottle tilted itself and poured amber liquid into the glass. Another gesture stoppered the bottle again and set it back on the sideboard.

Then, he turned, and offered it to David who took it, drinking half of it with a gulp that made Ossian wince. He coughed slightly before he spoke.

“Sit down, Ossian.”

Silently, the manservant obeyed, perching himself on the edge of the other chair, hands resting against his knees. Unconsciously, his fingers curled against his palms.

Master Tavy wants to talk.

He recognized the signs, was well acquainted with them since childhood when he became the young prince’s familiar, confidant, and friend.

David finished the drink, got up and poured himself another. That made Ossian frown as he watched his master manually perform the task. Sitting again, David drank half of it before he spoke. He held up the glass, studying the remaining liquid in it as if it were totally fascinating.

“My lady’s with child, Ossian.”

Whatever the manservant had been expecting, it wasn’t that. Ossian thought a moment. “Am I right in thinkin’ congratulations are na in order, sir?”

“You are.” David finished the whisky and returned to his contemplation of the glass.

“Does His Majesty know?” When David shook his head, Ossian went on, “Th’ Lord protect us when he finds out, then. Sir, I—” He hesitated. “I suppose there’s na doubt th’ babe’s yours?”

David's gaze flashed toward him, glowing fiercely.

“No disrespect to Mistress Megan, sir, but these thin’s do happen an’ sometimes th’ lass herself does na know.”

“My Meggie could have tamed unicorns, she was that innocent before we were wed.” David sighed and looked sad that the servant would even think such a thing.

Ossian thought about that a moment. “So what’s to be done?”

“I think…” David got up, heading for the sideboard and the whisky decanter.

Ossian had a feeling he’d have to replenish the supply tonight.

“Whate’er happens now is up to my wife. At least I hope she's goin’ to stay my wife.”