Chapter One
Renaissance Faire, Tuxedo, New York
"Mmmm, I see great change. It's good. You need change. You're too involved with work," Madame Serilda, or whatever her name was, said. "You work too hard."
Leda turned her eyes briefly to the woman dressed like some gypsy out of a bad historical documentary. The fortune teller's Romanian accent was worse than her outfit, which was amazing, considering the cheap imitation velvet of her dark red and green medieval gown was trimmed in white gauze and gold cording. Her dark hair looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks as it frizzed about her head.
Leda tried to hide her rueful smile. The smell was the most authentic medieval thing about her. Wryly, she insisted, "Oh, really, go on."
The woman waved her hands in haphazard patterns through the air and Leda knew she thought she looked mystical by doing so. Sadly, the fortune teller wasn't out of place. She was just as extravagant at the rest of the re-enactors walking around the fairgrounds.
People really got into this Renaissance Festival thing. The makeshift village looked like something from the 1500's with stone siding and tightly woven thatched roofs on the few permanent buildings. Tents and booths formed haphazard rows, creating winding trails through the village. The dirt paths were rutted, as if someone intentionally had driven a cart through the mud just to make it more genuine, and each person seemed to stick to their role within the fake caste system.
Vendors sold everything from leather boots to swords and horseshoes, flower wreathes for the hair to custom clothing, roasted nuts to sticks of lumpy, suspicious meats. One woman walked around as if she were mad, screaming at the heavens in her muddy gown, crawling around in puddles. Another stopped her to talk about dragon footprints she saw "yonder". There was even a procession of royal couples representing many European countries. They rode horses and Leda was a little put off by the piles of the manure some of the wretched creatures left behind for the rest of the crowd to walk through.
All the women wore period dresses, from peasants to nobility. The gowns hugged along chests and flared from waists in a sweep of lightweight linen. The embroidered edges were simple to nonexistent on the peasants, with more elaborate decoration for the fine noble ladies. Some of the noblewomen even had jewels, glass bead belts and hair pieces over upswept locks, which twisted into a complicated series of plaits and coils.
The men were no different in their commitment to their roles, though they did have a more rugged appeal. Some were dressed in amour, others in breeches and tunics ranging from the poorest of villains to the richest of noblemen. Leda only knew what she did about this time period from reading her mother's historical romance novels in high school.
She looked down at her own noblewoman's gown and frowned. Tugging uncomfortably at the long sleeve of her overtunic dress, she fidgeted to make it more comfortable. The gown hugged to her chest to flare from her waist in a sweep of lightweight linen. It would have been cool, but for the undertunic beneath. Embroidered edges lined her sleeves and squared neckline. Along her waist was a chained belt of glass beads. The emerald green was beautiful, she had to admit, but she didn't belong in it. Leda couldn't understand those who thought they did. Sure, life could be boring, but what kind of person lived like this? Day-to-day, on purpose?
However, regardless of how she felt, today she was a freak, too. How did her boss ever talk her into this? Who ever heard of going undercover in a Renaissance Faire as some sort of serving wench? Already she'd been propositioned by a few of the knights. Clearly, sexual harassment wasn't around in the Middle Ages. Though, if she were honest, there were a few knights she wouldn't mind harassing a bit herself.
Actually, she was here for a very important purpose--to catch some mace-wielding psychopath that had been killing innocent women. Being that she was female, her boss didn't like her working on this assignment. Leda wasn't one to let the fact she had boobs interfere with what needed to be done.
A team of men, just as uncomfortably dressed as she, also roamed the campground. She'd seen them several times in her area and knew that their director had told them to keep an eye on her. Most days she would've hated their over-protectiveness, but she'd seen the photos of what the killer had done and she was lucky to have such devoted co-workers.
At first, the murders had baffled them. What kind of object could inflict so much damage? But, thanks to the help of FBI intelligence, they'd narrowed the weapon down to a medieval mace--a stick with a chained ball of spiky metal on the end of it. Luckily, the man in charge of the scientific team was into role-playing games, otherwise it might have stumped them longer. After that, it was a matter of narrowing down known makers of such period weaponry, matching metal content with shards found on one of the victims, and here they were ready to catch a very bad guy.
And Leda was the bait--unofficially, of course. She fit the profile perfectly--athletic in build, green eyes and long red hair. All the victims even had a sprinkling of freckles over their noses like she did. But, there were a few things she had that the victims didn't--Federal training, a gun and the innate ability to "feel" the future. She wouldn't call it foresight so much as a natural instinct that allowed her to be in the right place at the right time. Beyond that mild psychic ability, she also could read people--not their exact thoughts, but impressions of what they were thinking and it wasn't often that those impressions were wrong.
They have been a little off lately, though, her brain reminded her.
Shut up, she answered herself. A few bad calls don't mean anything.
Tell that to the pizza guy you drew a gun on last week.
"Yes, yes," the fortune teller droned, her eyes lifting in her head as she made a whirling noise. The annoyance successfully drew Leda from her thoughts.
Leda tried not to be too aggravated. She knew there were tellers out there who didn't act like this at all, and would probably be offended by the way this woman was representing them, but it didn't make her a believer in such divining arts at tarot cards. Leda's sister had been into them as children, but the cards were merely a waste of time. Both of them were much more in tune with the future without the use of visual aids. Psychic ability was just something inside a person, a gift. It couldn't be taught or learned, though it could definitely be suppressed or nurtured.
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Finding herself undercover as a serving wench at a Renaissance Faire, FBI Agent and mild psychic Leda Williams isn't planning to partake in any role-playing games. She's there to find a mace-wielding serial killer, which isn't easy with everyone around her pretending to be in character. Not only does the entire village fit the Medieval-obsessed profile, but she's already been propositioned by a few of the knights. Clearly, sexual harassment wasn't around in the Middle Ages. But, when she sees the delectably gorgeous, magically seductive tournament champion, Sir Calum, Leda realizes there might be one knight she wouldn't mind getting into character for. Rating: Spicy-Contains graphic sexual content, adult language, sexy knights at a Renaissance Faire and violence.
