Chapter One

He moved like thunder. Ducked low like a panther, her attacker thrust his chest forward and lurched at her with a warrior’s scream. Her maneuver was sharp as she jumped to the side and lifted her knee as hard as she could, straight into his soft middle. Bellowing her battle cry, Penny Rothchild danced back like a prize boxer and held her hands up in guard of her face. He wobbled, hands on his chubby knees, breath muffled but coming hard. He straightened up, and although she couldn’t see his face, she knew the sound of his surrendering moan well enough. It was a silent beg for mercy, but Penny couldn’t be gentle. This was an attack and she had to show those watching the proper ways of defense.

He came at her, stumbling, hands up like a grizzly bear, moaning so quietly those in the circle couldn’t hear his pain. They only saw a monster and that is just what Penny wanted them to see. She squared her stance and pulled back her arm.

“Penny,” he begged.

“NO!” she screamed and with all her might she thrust her palm directly in his big bulbous nose and smiled victoriously as he staggered back and then fell onto the mats with an audible grunt. A supportive cheer went up around her and despite her better judgment, Penny smiled. The brief display of an emotion only lasted a moment; soon her serious expression was back and the crowd was once again quiet.

Penny placed her hands on her hips and slowly stalked the inner circle her black pony tail swishing with each step. The sweat that ran down her back was collected by the thick waist band of her yoga pants. She felt breathless and energized. Her eyes darted from shocked and enthralled faces to the non-moving form on pressed down on the mats.

“Ladies, listen up!” She called, silencing the whispering, “The chance that your attacker is someone you know is incredibly high. As women, we are more likely to be attacked by someone we know than a stranger. Do you hear me?”

There was a chorus of yeses.

“That means that we could be attacked by our husbands, our boyfriends, our coworkers, or even our fathers or brothers! There are more women hurt every day by those they love than by some random troll on the street.” She continued to pace, gathering energy from their stares, or perhaps the fact that her kill still lay on the ground. “I’ve spent the last hour watching you feebly defending yourselves! Yes, these are just practice mats, and yes, this is just a volunteer, and no you’re not in immediate danger, but you cannot hold back! When you’re in this room, in this class you must put forth as much strength as possible!”

In her peripheral vision, Penny saw a hand shoot up. She turned to the youngest member of her self defense class, a sixteen-year-old, blond named Becky Rider. Becky rolled from her bottom to her knees and shook her hand violently to get Penny’s attention. This last demonstration, the severity of it, had been for those who weren’t taking the class seriously in the beginning, for those who were concerned that punching too hard in class would hurt their partners, for those like Becky.

The teen’s blue eyes danced as she gazed up at Penny who finally pointed at her.

“Um… is he, like, dead?”

Penny turned to the center of the mats were her assistant Troy lay sprawled on his back, unmoving, but breathing hard. He was covered from ankle shoulders in a large padded body suit and on his head was a matching protective helmet; there was no way she could have hurt him too badly. However, Troy usually bounced back ready to attack. The fact that he hadn’t yet gotten up did concern her. Slightly.

Penny bit the inside of her cheek as she walked over to Troy. She bent down and tapped his padded middle. He grunted in response and then struggled to sit up, looking much like a turtle trapped on his shell, an image that received a laugh from the ladies in the circle. He rolled onto his knees and dropped his head between his shoulders.

“You okay?” Penny asked. Troy’s foam head nodded once before he slowly hoisted himself onto his feet and staggered out from the middle of the circle. Ignoring Troy’s not-so-subtle moan, Penny turned her attention back to her class. She clapped her hands together rapidly, with as much excitement as she could muster.

“Okay, everyone up! Grab a partner and a set of defending pads.” She watched the group scramble with a buzz of excitement. “We have fifteen minutes ladies! This time, do not hold back—I want to hear loud grunts or screams from all of you. Dig you heel straight up into the mat and pretend its some big, burly, disgusting man’s nose. Pretend the mats attacking you; wanting to hurt or kill or rape you. Hit the mat four times in a row and scream each time: No! No! No! NO!”

“You want us to actually scream?” Becky asked.

“Yes scream it!” Penny said. “The scream will alert people, the scream shows that you’re not weak. Go!”

Soon the small workout room was filled with screaming. Some screams were clipped and staccato, barking like hyperactive puppies, others were more guttural, manly, and growling, and then there were the teenage karate chop squeals. All were hitting harder than they had been in the beginning of class. They were attacking their partner’s mats with vigor and determination to kill. Penny chuckled. It sounded as if they were murdering one another. A few people passing by the aerobic class room stopped to stare through the windows, most the onlookers were the big muscle-bound men who’d been employing the free weights with their own guttural moans. And then there was Gwen, the gym manager, who came running from the front with a shocked expression on her face.

Penny waved at her boss to signal that everything was okay and then watched her group with triumph. Her eyes flickered to her oldest couple, Lois and Margo, as they rushed each other, pounding their palms on the mats, smiling big when their hits caused a painful sting in their palms. Penny’s attention was drawn back to the windows when the door to the room swung open and contained screams were released to the main gym. From where Penny was standing she could see people stopping their workouts on the treadmills and elliptical machines, staring in her direction with fright.

Damn right, Penny though, they should be scared out of their minds.

Gwen forced the door closed and then ducked her way through swinging partners.

“Um, Pen?” Gwen called over the screams. “This is a bit much isn’t it?”

“No!” Penny retorted. “This is important, Gwen. You shouldn’t skimp on personal safety.” As she spoke Becky squealed at the top of her lungs and threw her whole body into a punch, which knocked her partner Yvette backwards. The girls beamed with pride and then it was Yvette’s turn to knock Becky on her ass.

Gwen opened her mouth to respond, but Penny walked away and picked up the whistle hanging from around her throat. She blew three times and the class fell silent for a moment and then broke out into excited laughter.

“Okay, great work ladies… everyone grab a spot on the mat for cool down.” She moved to the front of the class and slowly lowered herself onto the mats. Gwen stood in the center of the room watching the women form perfect lines in front of Penny. When her boss didn’t leave, Penny cleared her throat, drawing the other woman’s attention. “Gwen, do you want to stay and cool down with us?”

Gwen shook her head no and walked out of the room shaking her head at a police officer who was peering through the glass with a questioning look.

Penny reached back and flicked on the stereo. A slow, tranquil new-age song full of wooden flutes and waterfalls filled the room. One of her pupils flicked off the blaring overhead lights bathing them in only the dim glow of the exit sign and the light that poured through the glass windows from the main floor. Penny removed her tennis shoes and pressed her feet together; her class mimicked her movements and for the next five minutes they cooled down together performing simple stretches and deep breathing techniques.

Class ended quietly, as always, and the women got up and put their equipment away.

“Great class, Penny,” Becky said with a calm smile. “I feel so powerful on Thursday nights! No one messes with me. I feel just like Angelina of Lucy Liu, kicking ass and stuff.”

“Good, Becky,” Penny smiled. “See you next week?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Becky paused for a moment, smiled, and jumped forward to hug Penny around her waist. The embrace was brief and shocking. Penny didn’t have the chance to respond because Becky was off joining her older sister Amanda at the back of the class where people signed their names to the roster. Penny watched everyone file out and then went to the equipment closet to make sure things were put away properly. She was so focused on the task at hand she didn’t hear anyone approaching her. Her senses bristled the moment the person stepped into her personal space and put their large hand on her shoulder.

She didn’t think twice, she reached up, pinched the person’s wrist and twisted their arm backwards.

“Ouch!” Troy cried out. “It’s me! Uncle, UNCLE!”

She released him and put both hands on her hips. Her heart was racing in her chest, but Troy would never know that. He would never know how much he had startled her because Penny made it her life’s mission to hide her true feelings from people. She’d always been reserved; a private individual who didn’t like a lot of touchy-feely nonsense or people invading space. It was often easier not feeling things or not showing when others had upset her, that kept people from butting their noses into business that wasn’t theirs. Plus she didn’t like to appear weak.

Troy frowned as he nursed his wrist and rolled his shoulder. “Come on, Penny, you knew it was me. You already kicked my ass tonight, what you needed a second go round? Need to break my arm or rip it off?”

Penny turned back to the cabinet. “Did I hurt you today?”

“You hit me way harder than was necessary, Pen,” Troy leaned against the cabinet and sighed. He watched her for a moment, making no effort to help her straighten the mats. She felt his brown eyes burning into the side of her face. He sighed again, his supposed displeasure at being hit harder than normal vanished and his voice became husky, “So….”

Penny rolled her eyes.

She knew that tone. She knew what would come next and she was tired of it; tired of him asking her out; tired of shutting him down time and time again. Troy was nice enough, only a few years younger than her, but that wasn’t why she didn’t want to go out with him, he just wasn’t her type. Penny wasn’t sure she had a type. She was too busy keeping people away.

“Come on, Troy, don’t do this again.” She closed the cabinets and returned to the front of the room to grab her workout bag. “I’m tired and I don’t want to do this dance of ours.”

“I like to dance,” Troy said as he followed her out of the workout room and through the gym floor to the front office where their timecards were. Penny taught several aerobic and conditioning classes at the eastside YMCA, but of them all, self defense was her favorite.

Self protection was important, especially in a place like New York City. She liked the job—it paid well and kept her from working a nine-to-five, which she abhorred. She was a hot commodity, often recruited by other gym owners to lead their classes. She preferred the laid back atmosphere of the YMCA, which was more inclusive and less homogenous than other gyms in the city. Her classes were always packed. Members liked that she kept up the intensity and the drive, which gave them the results they were seeking. The self defense class was something of its own—it was a popular beast. Troy was the only other instructor at the gym who would even consider putting on the foam suit so that people could practice punching him. She even had volunteer police running from her.

Troy, however, never ran.

“So, I thought that I could buy you a beer tonight,” Troy called as he jogged to catch up to Penny who was booking it double-time to the subway to catch her train to Queens, “You know, since it’s your birthday and all.”

Penny stopped short and turned. Troy bumped into her and grinned, holding his palms up in surrender. How the hell did he know it was her birthday? There was no way he could have known, unless….

“Ginger called when you were in spinning,” Troy smiled, “she actually invited me over to her studio to celebrate, seeing on how we’re work friends and all.”

Penny started walking again. “We’re colleagues, we’re not friends.”

“You’re so cold to me,” Troy laughed as he jogged at her side to keep his lengthy six-foot frame in line with her petite, yet fast, gait. “You move quickly for someone so little. And we are friends—only a friend would let you shove your fist into their face every Thursday night. And that did hurt, FYI.”

“Sorry,” Penny grumbled as she zoomed down the stairs into the smelly, dank, overly crowded subway tunnel. She paid her token, moved easily through the turnstile, and headed down the platform to wait for the right connection. Troy followed her every step. “Are you really coming to Ginger’s?”

“That’s the plan,” he nodded as he came to stop beside her. “So, will you let me buy you a beer? Will you let go for just a night and let me be your friend? You only turn twenty-four once.” He pushed his blond hair out of his eyes and winked at her.

Penny felt her face flush with blood and grew aggravated when Troy laughed, his white teeth sparkling at her. She’d known him for about a year and he’d always made his intentions in regard to her well known. He was overly flirtatious and loved to tease. And he didn’t take no for an answer. He was the only guy not to give up after her constant rebuffs. Penny wasn’t completely blind. Troy really was cute for a 22-year-old senior at NYU, and for all intents and purposes, he’d make a great catch for some other girl. He was good boyfriend material for someone who wanted the typical hot-body, athletic, gym rat, with dimples, blond hair, brown eyes, and a willingness to please. Troy wasn’t just looking to get laid—although she was sure he wouldn’t mind if that was an option—he was just looking for someone to spend time with. Good for someone other than Penny. Ginger maybe.

“I’ll buy my own beer, thanks,” Penny sighed as the train blew its horn from where it was approaching in the darkness of the tunnel. A minute later she and Troy were seated on a graffiti-covered bench, not saying a single word to one another. She felt bad for turning him down, and because she felt bad her blood was boiling. She couldn’t sit still for the life of her; she really wanted to punch something. Honestly, she shouldn’t feel bad for turning Troy down, or for punching him too hard—he was wearing padding after all—and yet guilt, fresh and bothersome, was settling in the pit of her stomach.

“It’s always fun watching you rally the troops,” Troy said. Penny was grateful that he broke the silence; it helped to ease the tension that was making her stomach incredibly tight. “It’s great watching the ladies in your class—and sometimes dudes too—get into it. You’d make a fine general or something, Penny, those women tonight ate it up. They really got into it toward the end.”

“Yeah,” Penny smiled. “Thanks for putting on the suit.”

Troy moaned and leaned back. He casually draped his arm over her shoulder and gave her a little squeeze. His arm lingered; Penny’s arm hair stood on end. “No prob, birthday girl. It usually doesn’t hurt, but I guess you were putting on a show and—”

“It wasn’t a show, Troy,” Penny interrupted as she lifted his arm from her shoulders, pushed it back against his side, and slipped over to put more space between them. “Do you know how many women are attacked in this city? The numbers are through the roof… self defense is….”

“Very important,” Troy nodded, “I completely agree, I do. Anyone would be a damn fool to screw with you.”

“And yet, you won’t leave me alone!”

“We’re not screwing,” Troy murmured his voice husky again, full of promise.

Again Penny’s cheeks heated, she scooted over more and shoved her gym bag between them. And despite her own rules of self awareness, she pulled the ear buds for her iPod out of the front pocket of her bag and shoved them into her ears. She saw Troy smile and felt his laughter vibrate the back of their seat. She selected her New Age playlist and prayed that the solitary tones of a low flute would help soothe her twisting insides.

The rain had started while Penny was stuck beneath the surface of the city with a kid who was trying very hard to please her. Halting just before the subway steps, Penny pulled a hooded sweatshirt from her bag and put it on. By the time they reached the sidewalk, the rain was coming down in relentless torrents. The hood of her sweatshirt helped soak up some of the water as they ran, but soon it was running down her face and sloshing in her tennis shoes. Finally, she was bathed in the glow of familiar neon fortune telling signs. Penny hurried up three little steps, Troy following closely behind, and ducked into the studio front of Ginger’s Fortunes. Troy bumped into her as he followed inside and ended his apology with a loud sneeze. Penny’s own nose burned with the intense fragrances of multiple sticks of incense and flavored candles burning throughout the waiting room.

“Wow, this is… intense,” Troy whispered as he closed the door and slicked back his rain-soaked hair. He took a look at all of the astronomy-inspired paintings on the walls, the fortune telling posters, and other random trinkets and artifacts that were very crystal-ball like.

Penny would have to agree with that assessment—the studio was intense. Her best friend, Ginger Hollins ran a successful fortune telling in the basement of their Queens townhouse. The business was complete with predictions and premonitions, tarot card and palm readings, crystal balls, and connections with third party aspirations, or ghosts. She sold incense and homemade candles and kept book shelves stocked with the latest books on her craft.

Of course this wasn’t a business to Ginger; it was a life mission, a quest, a duty. She was an oracle, a seer, and had been since childhood. Penny and Ginger had known each other since they were in diapers, so Penny had seen her friend’s authentic gift very early on. She’d been persuaded to believe that Ginger wasn’t special, that she was just very lucky with predictions or very observant. It wasn’t until Ginger saw her father’s death in a boating accident, which happened a week later, that Penny really started to believe in more than the power of observation.

Ginger always kept pretty mum about what she “saw” in regard to Penny’s future, and that was how Penny preferred for it to be. She didn’t want to know when she would fall in love, when she would have kids, if or when she’d be successful, or what her death would be like. That was too much pressure and Penny didn’t like to feel pressure. She liked to live her life in the shadows, unseen and unheard, which were thing Ginger always hinted wouldn’t last forever. Penny’s solitude was a phase, Ginger promised, one that would die out in time.

“Ging, I’m here!” Penny called, “and so it Troy!” She didn’t hide the annoyance in her voice not that Troy cared; he just chuckled and smiled when she looked at him.

A beaded curtain rustled and Ginger came out from the back room carefully balancing a small white-frosted cake flickering with at least twenty-four candles if not more.

“Sing with me, Troy,” Ginger said in her light, ethereal way, “‘Happy birthday….’”

“No, that’s not necessary….” Penny stammered.

“‘…to you, happy birthday to you… happy birthday, dear….’”

“Penny!” Troy belted.

“Penelope,” Ginger sang winking one blue eye at Penny, ‘“Happy birthday to you!’” ‘With grace and beauty, the embodiment of Ginger Hollins, Penny’s best friend held out the cake so the candles flickered before Penny’s eyes.

“Make a wish.”

Penny felt the warmth of the flames and watched them lick the air, melting baby blue wax onto the white cake frosting. Penny didn’t believe in wishes. She stopped believing in them a long time ago, back when she wished for a pony for her sixth birthday and got a stupid Barbie instead. However, to appease her friend, she squeezed her eyes shut, pretended to wish, and then blew the flames out smiling as a rush of smoke lifted into the air.

Ginger smiled and lowered the cake away from Penny’s face.

“You didn’t wish,” she said.

Penny bit her lower lip and shrugged, “I made an effort.”

“No you didn’t,” Ginger smiled. “It doesn’t matter, Pen, your subconscious’s wish will come true. Hello, Troy.”

“Hi Ginger, great place,” Troy said before letting a loud sneeze free. “Gee, sorry.”

“My subconscious’s wish?” Penny cocked an eyebrow up and let her sodden gym bag clunk to the floor. She was used to Ginger’s hokey, psychic talk, but still couldn’t help roll her eyes whenever that talk was directed at her. She stepped out of her squishy tennis shoes and turned over the open sign on the door to closed, and twisted the deadbolt. Ginger set the cake down on a small table and pulled the cork from a half-full bottle of wine. Penny pulled her sweatshirt over her head and dropped it on the ground on top of her shoes. “I’m going to grab some towels from upstairs.”

Ginger nodded and poured three glasses of wine. As Penny climbed the stairs to the upper apartment she shared with Ginger, she heard her friend talking to Troy, asking him if his nose was okay. Penny no longer felt guilty for that; she figured they were even now that he sang so lovingly to her. She grabbed a few towels from the linen closet and headed back down. She tossed one to Troy and then set one on the floor for to sit on. Ginger happily served up large pieces of the small round cake and sat down in a purple leather chair. When they were all served wine, Ginger pushed her auburn hair off her face and secured it back with a clip. They settled into their respective spots and ate their cake. The lack of conversation must have driven Troy crazy because he continuously tried to spark conversations just to nullify the silence.

“So, can you really predict the future?” Troy asked.

“Um, it doesn’t really work that way,” Ginger answered. “I see myself more as a conduit, a vessel to be used by other dimensions.”

Troy’s eyes grew big, which wasn’t an unfamiliar response to people who didn’t know Ginger. Thankfully, her response was enough to silence Troy for a while. Long enough for Penny to have three glasses of wine and polish off every last bit of her slice of cake.

“So, what did my subconscious wish?”

“You’re drunk or you wouldn’t ask me that,” Ginger smiled. “I’m not going to say.”

“Oh, just say,” Penny said as she rubbed her tickling nose. “I’m twenty four; maybe this is a good year for a prediction, for a reading.” She held out her palm. “Go ahead.”

“I don’t need to see your palm, Penny,” Ginger smiled and settled back in to her purple chair. They stared at each other, Penny waiting patiently, Ginger staring curiously. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes, I really do,” Penny answered. “What did my subconscious tell you?”

“You’re tired,” Ginger answered as she smeared uneaten frosting over her plate. “You’re tired of your same existence day by day, minute by minute. You’re tired of keeping yourself hidden.”

Penny licked her lips and stared off into the darkness behind the beaded doorway of Ginger’s “reading” room. All of the things her friend had said were true, but no secret. Ginger was Penny’s diary most times, she knew everything about her. She knew why Penny was scared, why she hid, why she neglected to feel much of anything. This wasn’t news.

Troy shifted on the floor where he sat at the foot off the little table, perhaps to alert them that he was still present or to offer comfort, but changed his mind at the last moment and lowered his head.

“Then my subconscious wasn’t telling you anything you didn’t know already,” Penny said as she took a swig from the wine bottle, followed closely by a long gulp to finish it off.

Ginger’s smile was sad and full of love. She reached behind her and presented a pretty rectangle box, tied with black ribbons. Her eyes flickered to Troy, “You a cop?” She suddenly asked.

“Why?” Troy grinned. “Got something illegal in that box? Should we draw the velvet curtains?”

Ginger didn’t smile back. “Are you a cop? You have to identify yourself if you are.”

“I’m not a cop,” Troy held up both hands. “Swear.”

“Good,” Ginger set the box down on the table and slid it next to Penny’s plate. “Happy birthday, Penelope… I think you’re going to like it.”

“What is it?” Penny laughed. “Is it something illegal? Because you know how I feel about that stuff.”

“Well, I bought it on the black market,” Ginger answered. “So, I suppose it’s illegal in a way, yes, but nothing that you ingest or smoke. Nothing that will cause you harm.”

“You bought it on the black market?” Troy asked incredulously.

“Is there really such a thing?” Penny picked up the box and held it curiously. “That’s not just something they made up for the movies? You know, selling body parts on the black market?”

“There really is one; they just don’t have a website like EBay. You have to know the right people…” Ginger said evasively. “Just open it.”

“I don’t know if I want to,” Penny laughed. “What is it, really?”

“Just open it!” Ginger laughed. “I can’t wait to see your expression—go on.”

Fingers moving slowly, Penny pulled off the black ribbons and lifted the lid of the box. Beneath folds of soft cotton fabric lay a beautiful jade bracelet, beaded intricately with thin gold chains as fine as a strand of hair, and held together with a delicate filigree clasp. The bracelet looked ancient, something that someone would find in a historical museum, which may have been the case had Ginger really purchased it from the black market. Penny carefully removed the bracelet from the box and held it between her fingers. The jade stones felt warm, as if they emitted their own heat, and that heat seemed to electrify Penny’s entire hand.

“It supposedly has magical powers,” Ginger whispered. “If the legend is right, it has the power to take you to your one true love of all time. I mean all time. The past or the future or the here and now,” Ginger’s eyes flickered to Troy. Penny elected to ignore the subtle glance. “I haven’t put it on, because I know when my true love will walk through the doors and claim me. This is a gift for you. I know you always avoid things like this, Pen, but now is the time to take a chance. Now is the time to let that big wall down.”

Penny’s eyes were transfixed by the stones which seemed to glow in the fire light.

“It just feels powerful, doesn’t it?” Ginger asked. “I could hardly bare to touch it when I got it. It’s like it pulses this ancient energy. Anyway, it cost me a fortune, but you’re worth it, Pen, your soul is worth it.”

Penny laughed, “Okay come on, get real. My soul is worth it—do you know how that sounds?”

“No honestly,” Ginger pushed. “Honestly, Penny, I’m concerned about you. Put it on.”

“What, it’s going to take me to a magical place where my true love awaits with his clothes off no doubt?” Penny rolled her eyes. “Where did you really get this, Claire’s or Icing?”

“I purchased it on the black market, Penny,” Ginger said. “I really did, honest. It cost me about two hundred grand.”

“What?!” Penny burst into laughter. “No way do you have that much money and we’re still living here in this dump! Come on… the secretiveness is cute, but no way did you spend that much money on this bracelet.” Penny smiled. Maybe she spent two hundred, but hundreds of thousands, no way. “It’s really beautiful though, Ginger, and you know I don’t like much jewelry, but this is gorgeous.”

“Put it on,” Troy said. “Let’s see if you poof out of here, or maybe fall right into my arms.”

Penny groaned.

“Gosh, I can feel its power from here,” Ginger shuttered.

Rolling her eyes, Penny opened the tiny clasp carefully.

“Okay, okay… I’ll put this on and show you that it’s not some magical vessel,” the clasp was shut so tightly Penny was fearful that she’d break the thing, “I really hope you didn’t drop a fortune on this thing, Ginger.”

The fact that it felt brittle and delicate in her hands increased her belief that it was an old piece; one that hadn’t been purchased at cheap costume jewelry shop in the mall. She smoothed the bracelet across the back of her wrist and felt a swell of goose bumps rush down her arm; her breath caught in her throat as the beads pushed an unfamiliar crawling sensation across her hair follicles, heating her palm and numbing her fingers. She laughed at her own silliness and shook her head.

“Now you’ve got me believing in this ancient tale—or maybe I’m just drunk after all.”

Penny pressed her wrist to her knee to help steady the bracelet so she could figure out the tricky clasp. Finally it locked in place and slid down half of Penny’s arm, she shook it back down to her wrist and smiled.

“A little big, but it’s still gorgeous.” When she looked back at Ginger and saw tears in her friend’s eyes, Penny instantly melted. “Oh, Ging,” she pushed herself up and walked around the table. Bending over, she hugged Ginger’s shoulders. “Don’t be upset that it didn’t poof me away to magic land. It’s okay, really… it’s so beautiful and I love it!”

“B-but… it cost a lot of money!” she sobbed. “It’s supposed to work! I researched it and everything. It was made by a sorcerer and…”

“Ahh, it’s okay,” Penny kissed the top of Ginger’s head. “If you bought it on the black market I’m almost positive someone else will buy it back from you. Just talk to this person you bought it from and tell them that you want to sell it again. I don’t mind—we can get me something similar, but cheaper. Don’t cry. I do love it very much. And you have to remember, Ging, that they’re just stories and….”

Out of no where, Penny felt a hand slap her across the face, knocking her back so hard that she fell over the table, knocking her wine glass and the bottle to the stone floor, causing them both to shatter. She found herself in the remaining half of her birthday cake, her workout top covered in red wine. Penny blinked and looked at Ginger, who was staring at her with wide eyes, delicate hands pressed to her mouth. Troy wasn’t moving. He stared with the disbelief Penny felt. Penny touched her throbbing cheek and blinked away sudden tears.

“W-what did you do that for!” Penny cried, tears coming fast. “Jesus, Ginger! I said I liked it!”

“I… I didn’t!” Ginger stood. “I didn’t touch you! You just flew backwards!”

“You slapped me!” Penny shouted. “What the hell! Take this back!” She sat up, smearing white frosting down the front of her pant legs. When her hands were clean, she grabbed the clasp of the bracelet, which had somehow tightened on her wrist. There was no longer slack to the chain; the beads were flush to her skin. She tried to maneuver the clasp but it wouldn’t budge.

“I didn’t slap you!” Ginger hurried forward, and as she reached down for Penny, another blow snapped Penny’s head back so sharply she tasted blood. “Penny… PENNY!” Ginger wailed.

The first slap was unexpected; the second slap was unprovoked, but damn if Penny wasn’t going to defend herself for the third slap. It didn’t matter that Ginger was her best friend, like a sister to Penny, there was no way she was going to lay on the floor and take it. With tears burning in her eyes and blood on her tongue from a cut to the inside of her lower lip, Penny watched Ginger bare down on her, and did the only thing she could think of to protect herself. She kicked Ginger in the knee, not hard enough to hurt her permanently, but hard enough to make her need a crutch for a few weeks. Ginger screamed on impact and fell forward, tumbling down toward Penny who was sprawled on the floor.

Ginger fell as if trapped in slow motion. And as she came crashing toward Penny, something odd happened. Her blue eyes spread wide and her pretty face contorted to something ghoulish and grotesque. Her shocked lips, stretched wide over a large, brown-toothed grimace of fury; course facial hair sprouted about her lips and down her chin and neck. Her clothes, the soft cottons and denim ballooned into hard leather and metal, and instead of a slender 110 pound body falling atop Penny, she was hit with a near 300 pound mass. Penny felt the wind rush out of her she was crushed her to the stone floor.

“THEIF!” His breath was rank as she spat on her skin, his large, mammoth sized hand grabbed her throat. He grunted as he pushed himself from her body. That same hand then grabbed a handful of Penny’s loose black hair and with a violent tug, jerked her to her knees as if she were some type of rag doll. The pain to her scalp was excruciating, like nothing she’d ever felt before, but then she’d never been dragged around by her hair either. The pain only increased as the brute moved forward, pulling her hair so hard she swore it was ripping clear off her head.

The shock of what was happening; the confusion of where she was and where Ginger had gone was suddenly on the back burner. Penny was being attacked. She knew what to do in such a situation and she employed all that she knew to get away.

She struggled at first; tripping over the long, dirty white skirt she was wearing. She stumbled for only a moment and then surged to her feet, her toes gripping the damp stones as best she could. Once she had herself balanced, she brought her elbow up and back as hard into his face as she could. The crunch of bone would forever be burned in her ears, and the pain was far more intense than she’d ever imagined, but his scream of pain and the release of her hair made it all worth it.

Penny staggered back from the squealing man before her; a man that hadn’t been in Ginger’s studio a second ago. She had never seen him before, nor would she, he was dressed as if he were in a 1600s period movie or at a Renaissance festival, not someone who would visit the YMCA and take one of her classes. He reminded her of Gimli the dwarf-troll character in Lord of the Rings, short, fat, hairy, and covered with dirt and had a smell ten thousand times worse than body odor. He spat blood at her feet and came at her. Penny didn’t wait to see if this was real or fake, she pulled her arm back, and forced her palm straight into the man’s already bloodied nose. He roared with pain and blood rushed faster.

“GINGER!” Penny screamed. “This isn’t funny!”

“You stupid bitch!” The Gimli-look-alike reached for his leather belt and unsheathed a giant sword.

Penny started laughing.

Nerves perhaps, but she couldn’t help it. She covered her mouth and laughed. What else could she do, this was so unreal, so fake. How Ginger had managed to pull it off, she would never know—maybe there was some herb in the wine. Or something baked in the cake to make her hallucinate.

“Okay, I give up,” she straightened, noticing for the first time that her boobs were thrust high on her chest, the aftereffect of a perfectly placed and tightened burgundy-colored corset. For once, Penny faltered a bit. “What in the hell am I wearing? Who changed my clothes?”

Suddenly people wearing costumes from the same period appeared all around and collectively gasped in horror, which caused Penny to jump back in fright, doing so she just narrowly missed the man’s wielded sword tip.

“That’s not funny!” she shouted at him. “What are you crazy? Look, this Medieval Times gag is really funny and all, and I don’t know how you did it Ginger, but I’m done, okay? Okay, Ginger? You can come out now… give me a magic potion to end this or something! A glass of milk maybe?”

Another gasp was followed by the swish of a blade and the split of skin on Penny’s shoulder. It took her a moment to realize that the psycho had actually cut her with his sword. First the blood came and then the raw sting. She touched the spreading mark on her arm and even touched a red fingertip to her tongue. Real blood. It was real blood.

He pulled his sword back again; ready to chop her head off. Penny stumbled tripping over the long skirt. She hit the stone floor hard, knocking her elbow, which caused a splitting pain to crawl up and down her arm and travel deep into her shoulder. The troll man came at her again, spitting blood, screaming, rising his sword high above his head. Penny did all that she could do. She crouched down, put all of her weight behind her heel, and without holding back she kicked in the guys knee, hyper extending it backwards with a sickening pop.

His sword clattered to the ground a foot from where Penny lay crouched. She scrambled back as he writhed and screamed in pain, pushed herself up, and ran for the nearest exit.

“GINGER!” She screamed.

The wooden door ahead of her swung open and three men, swords drawn moved toward her. She stopped cold and stared at them in shock. All around her, the large, ancient looking room, slowly materialized before her and was clearer than it had been a second before. It was big and drafty, with stone walls, wooden beamed ceilings, and an open roof that showed an infinite number of twinkling stars. The windows were huge, stained glass constructions, and floors were polished and smooth stones. There were old carvings in the wooden doors these men had barged through, and large tapestries hung with symbols she couldn’t identify, emblems perhaps of a family.

“Back, wench!” one of the men growled bringing the shining tip of his sword to her eye line.

Wench? Did he just call her a wench?

Penny’s eyes flew to her wrist where the jade bracelet was tightly pressed against her skin. She tried to pull it off but it wouldn’t budge.

There was no way.

No way at all that this bracelet would actually take her back in time. This was all some joke, some elaborate scheme Ginger and Troy had thought up to torment her on her birthday. She wasn’t exactly sure how they pulled it off, but this was a joke, it had to be. She was an extra in a movie and these guys with the big swords weren’t real. The blood trickling down her arm wasn’t real. The clothes she wore weren’t real. None of it was real.

“Back I say!” The man thrust his sword at her just as her arms were grabbed violently from behind. Penny didn’t have any fight in her and went willingly. She was confused and a little frightened as well. There was no way that something like this was remotely possible. No way at all.

As they pushed her forward she stared at everything around her. This really was like the Renaissance festival Ginger dragged her two when they were sixteen, only better. The costumes, the food, the ruddy flatware and goblets all looked so authentic. The courtesans, the knights, the jesters—everything was like something she’d seen in a movie, yet different. Penny was brought before a high table, and forced to her knees in front of a man wearing a glorious king’s costume. He was big and gruff, like a king should be, and wore a bejeweled crown that was pretty damn impressive.

Penny blinked up at him.

“What is your name, woman?” the king asked. The woman at his side looked affronted and put off that Penny was even in her presence. The woman looked like a queen, wearing a long beautiful gown of cream silk tied off with green cords; her hair twisted up immaculately. She too wore a crown, although smaller.

Penny pressed her lips together. Her silence was rewarded with a sharp smack across the back of her head. Arms still bound she had no way of defending herself, but still she struggled and cursed and demanded to be set free.

“Enough!” the king bellowed. “The Baron of Kinnley says you’ve stolen his bracelet.” With her fingers she touched the warm jade beads that were clinging to her.

“I didn’t steal anything,” she hissed. “My friend gave me this….”

“Then your friends stole it from the Baron,” the king concluded. “You’ve accepted stolen merchandise.”

She could concede that point.

“Okay, is this some sort of fancy black market trial?” Penny laughed, and shook her head. “Okay, you got me, your liege; you can have the damn bracelet back.”

The woman beside the king gasped and began fanning herself.

“No need,” the king tossed the chicken bone he’d been gnawing on onto the floor in front of Penny’s knees and began licking his dirty fingers. Penny cringed with disgust.

“You could use a napkin or one of those wet wipe things they give you,” she commented.

“What is she speaking of?” the queen asked. “I think she must be a witch!”

The king silenced his queen with a wave of his big, meaty hand, “Your debt to the Baron of Kinnley has been repaid by my first knight, Sir Rinehart,” he gestured to his side where a handsome man in a knight’s costume sat, watching Penny with curious gray eyes. The fact that the man was handsome didn’t go unnoticed, nor did the awkward twinge in Penny’s stomach.

“I’m sure it didn’t cost two-hundred thousand dollars, like Ginger said so I’ll pay him back.”

The king frowned, “What are dollars?”

Penny blinked. Was he serious? Figuring it was part of the routine she rolled her eyes and sighed, “Pieces of gold then? I’ll pay him back.”

“I doubt that you have gold pieces, peasant girl,” the king laughed. Penny’s eyes darkened; she didn’t like where this peasant girl talk was headed. “There is no need for you to lie. In paying for your crimes, Sir Rinehart has purchased you as well—you will be his wench, should he so desire.” There was a joyous laugh from the other knights; the one in question simply stared at Penny. “You will answer to him now.”

“You’ve got to be fucking joking.” Penny shouted. “I don’t answer to anyone, not even you!”

There was a gasp and even the king looked startled. He turned to the knight and whispered something to which the knight laughed and nodded, a small smirk on his handsome face. The king grinned and waved his hand dismissively. “Take her to Sir Rinehart’s chambers and make sure she cooperates.”

“Look, I’m not going to anyone’s chambers!” Penny shouted finally having the courage to struggle against the men holding her. “This is all a big joke and I want Ginger and Troy to come out now. I don’t know how you did all of this, but I’m pissed off! GINGER!”

“Take her away,” the king ordered, “let her be Rinehart’s problem, eh?”

There was a round of boisterous laughter that drowned out Penny’s screams for Ginger or Troy.

She was dragged through the large ball room, away from the curious eyes on onlookers and the twinkling stars above, and down a dark corridor lit only by candles. The farther they hauled her, the harder Penny fought for her freedom. She wouldn’t stop fighting until she had answers, or until she woke up from this horrible dream. She didn’t belong to anyone and wasn’t going to cooperate with anything and they needed to know that from the start. She told them she was pressing charges with the police for kidnapping. They laughed. She told them that they’d pay her millions. They laughed.

“This isn’t real!” Penny screamed as they dragged her into a cool, dark room. “Help me!”

“Scream all ye want to, darlin,” one of the men laughed as he shoved Penny forward into the arms of a thick, serious-faced woman. “I’m sure Luc will make you scream in a new way tonight.” The men barked when they laughed and started out of the room. “Clean her up for her Lord, woman, and watch out… she probably bites!”

The door slammed so hard, Penny jumped.

“This isn’t real,” Penny whispered. “I’m… I’m in 2008! This isn’t real!” And although she screamed the words at the top of her lungs, she couldn’t ignore the fact that the once loose jade bracelet now clung to her wrist as if an additional appendage that her body couldn’t live without, or the fact that Ginger and Troy were no where to be found.

A/N: Okay... I have to start by apologizing. It's been a while, I know, but I was SO overwhelmed with moving across the country, quitting my job (yay!), and just life in general, that I lost my bug to write somewhere along the line. I think I've found it in this new, different, and hopefully fun story (which I'm planning on making shorter than normal). So yes, this first chapter is WAY long, and others might be too, but the plan is to only have about 10-12 chapters total. We'll see how that works. Thanks so much for those who have been reading my stories and have reviewed in the last few months. I will be better about responding. In other news, A Starter Boyfriend, won in the "best chemistry" category for the SKOW awards (see profile). Thanks so much to those who voted! I'm glad that I could entertain so many people.

Hopefully you'll enjoy this story. Probably a cliched idea, but hopefully a fun, unique adventure. So... I'm interested in hearing your thoughts! OH... disclaimer. I'm not trying to make this an actual period piece, so it's probably a mixture of a lot of eras, just go with the flow and enjoy. Sorry if you're a stickler for authentic detail... I don't feel like doing the research, besides, I'm just happy to be writing something again! Thanks for reading this far! :)Tatiana