Fire Within - By Ally Shields Page 0,14

most of the uneasiness left by the dream. She’d forced herself into a lengthy morning run. Something about stretching and pushing weary muscles recharged her energy. With the addition of two strong cups of coffee from a new office pot, she was ready to show the rest of the day at least a neutral face. She settled in her office chair to review files before her first client arrived.

It was Monday, the day she reserved for what her bosses loosely termed “counseling.” She thought of it as trouble-shooting. Her primary duty as a Guardian was to keep the peace and act as a liaison with the human community, but the Magic Council had a rather broad interpretation of that duty. In her role of liaison she had become a screening and referral service—and part-time counselor—for all kinds of Otherworld problems, from where to find certain types of exotic foods, including rare blood types for vampires and fresh eels for the gnomes, to domestic disputes. When Yana, her deceased mentor, had retired and Ari was first appointed Guardian of Olde Town, her cell phone rang non-stop at all hours of the day and night. She’d finally arranged to route many of the calls through the Cultural Center and had established an appointment schedule.

As an offshoot of this routine, the office Ari once thought she had no use for had become a second home. Even when she had no appointments, she often stopped in to write reports, make private phone calls, or have a quiet cup of coffee. Her prized coffee pot sat on top of a file cabinet, and whenever present, she kept it constantly on and filling the air with a tempting aroma.

Her assigned office, situated in the modern Otherworld Cultural Center, attached to the gothic-looking Magic Hall, was an unpretentious rectangular room. A conference table stood under the double windows to the east, the gray metal desk and file cabinet sat against the opposite wall, and a worn wooden bookcase on the south. To Ari’s satisfaction, she had begun to fill the bookshelves with works on witchcraft and reference materials on the seven major magic races—sorcerers, elves, lycanthropes, vampires, fairies, dwarves, and demons. Since there were no treaties with the demons, only the first six belonged to the Magic Council.

This morning’s schedule was busy. At 9:00, a weretiger father brought in his troublesome teenage son for staying out all night, not following family rules. Sounded pretty normal to Ari, but definitely not her area of expertise. She referred him to an Otherworld runaway center. At 10:00, a mid-forties human woman sought a support group for parents of newly infected lycanthropes. Tomorrow night her son would face his first full moon since being bitten by a werewolf. Although most werewolves were natural born and infection much rarer than humans thought, it was a nervous time. Ari made a few calls, including one to Steffan. Since he was not a natural born, she trusted him to ease the way. The 10:30 domestic dispute between two elves failed to appear, and Ari hoped they’d worked things out. The 11:00 and 11:30 appointments wanted Otherworld appropriate housing, and Ari kept a referral sheet of willing landlords.

By noon she was hungry, restless, and glad to be done with the warm, fuzzy stuff. She grabbed a sandwich from the deli down the street and returned to make a phone call from the privacy of her office. In between appointments, she’d been thinking about the call all morning. She couldn’t put it off any longer, but the simple act of making contact would bring back a whole host of memories she didn’t want to face.

“Security office.”

Ari recognized the voice. She was in luck. Lilith, the female werelion on Prince Daron’s security team, answered the phone. Of the four lycanthropes, Lilith would probably be the easiest to talk with. At least Lilith would understand the issues. Ari had worked with the team for two weeks, almost a year ago. The parting had been abrupt, and not the team’s fault. They’d been too closely associated with Andreas.

“It’s me. Ari.”

“It’s been a while.” Lilith sounded cautious. “Thought we might hear from you when you got back from rehab.”

Ari suffered a moment of guilt. She should have tried to explain long before now, or at least called to let them know her injuries had healed. She pictured the woman on the other end—frowning, her lengthy, well-endowed frame would be lounging against a desk, a wall, or sprawled on a chair,