As Wendy Carmichael spent an evening discovering a new, wilder side of herself, other pieces were moving into place. Viveanne planned some parts of what was coming. She had intended to make this small town her permanent home, and that meant adjusting things to suit her tastes. Some of what would follow, though, was just happy accident.
--
Aspen Oakenheart had spent the day weeding one of her many gardens. Her home, an old plantation house a few miles outside the town limits, was always a riot of color. Whether it was covering the grounds in summer or confined to greenhouses in the winter, she was known locally as having the greenest thumb for dozens of miles.
Those who knew her best weren't surprised. Aspen had a tie to plants that few in the world could match. Time and patience had taught Aspen to speak the language of growing things. That skill meant she could instill health and strength in her charges that fertilizer and potting soil simply couldn't compete with. Her shop, The Twisted Vine, was known as the best retailer of anything green and growing within driving distance.
As she stood from trestle table that held her selection of begonias, Aspen stiffened. Something new shivered through the air. While Aspen's personal magic was most deeply tied to the earth, the wind and the rain could share their secrets as well. The breeze tonight whispered of changes to come. Aspen couldn't be sure, but they felt like positive ones. As she walked back towards her large house, she smiled, wondering what the future might bring.
--
Walt Redrock jerked upright in bed. His was clenched around the pistol he kept on his bedside table. The reaction was hardly unusual for him. He'd lived in Southport for three years now. He'd put in for a transfer after the incident in Montana. Normally, dreams of those two awful weeks were what jerked him awake in the middle of the night. Not tonight, though.
Tonight, a woman had invaded his dreams. Or possibly several women. It was difficult to tell. He remembered a ravishing beauty, with skin like caramel and hair like obsidian, kissing him hungrily. Then, her form had shifted, becoming pale as cream and blonde as she rode him. Finally, a woman with kinky raven hair and skin like dark chocolate had sucked him until he'd burst in her mouth.
He was still achingly hard from the dream. And, in the back of his mind, a laughing feminine voice seemed to be whispering.
Ishtar. Aphrodite. Venus. Or Di, if you prefer, lover. We'll be together soon.
Walt threw an arm over his huge black mutt Boomer and drifted back to sleep. But the throaty female chuckle resounded in his mind for a long time before he found sleep again.
--