Table of Contents
Title Page
©
* * *
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
* * *
Thank You!
With Thanks...
About the Author
Also by Serene Conneeley
INTO THE STORM
Into the Storm Trilogy
Book One
Serene Conneeley
Blessed Bee Books
©
Into the Storm: Into the Storm Trilogy Book One
eBook edition copyright © 2017 Serene Conneeley
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published by Blessed Bee Books
PO Box 449, Newtown, NSW 2042 Australia
Written by Serene Conneeley
Email: [email protected]
Cover artwork: Eye of the Storm by Selina Fenech,
www.SelinaFenech.com
* * *
Fate whispers to the warrior:
“You cannot withstand the storm.”
The warrior replies:
“I am the storm.”
* * *
Chapter 1
Into the Night
The mists reached out long fingers to the girl in the velvet cloak, frightening her as they lingered around her ankles, then twisted up her body until they were weaving around her throat and through her hair. Shivering, she clutched the edges of the soft black material more tightly around herself, and tried to get her breathing under control. Tried to stop the hammering of her heart that she felt sure could be heard all through the dense woodland.
The full moon overhead usually calmed her, but tonight its light only added to her fear, revealing shadowy silhouettes of twisted trunks and shining creature eyes that offered no comfort. The dark moon would have been easier, because the glimpses of movement she could just see out of the corner of her eye made everything more frightening. Sometimes it was better not to know what was out there.
But eventually she saw the warmth of candlelight ahead of her and quickened her pace, relieved beyond measure. For a moment she’d thought her best friend’s older brother had sent her out into the woods as a prank, or a test, but he was here as promised. For the past three weeks she’d been studying the notes he’d given her, the books he’d lent her, and practising with him when they could slip away from friends and family. And tonight, the night of the full moon, they would finally work real magic together – casting a spell to heal her mother.
Her breath caught as she stumbled into the clearing. A circle of tealight candles in pretty glass lanterns marked out the space they would work within, and scattered rose petals between each of the golden flames filled out the magical boundary. On the altar in the centre, several ritual objects were set up around a vase of deep red roses. The scent swirled around her, making her momentarily giddy.
“Rhiannon, beloved, you are here,” Evan said, and in the flickering light he looked much older than he was, the dark shadows dancing across his face hollowing out his cheekbones and adding a sinister flare that made her pause. Beloved?
He strode from the middle of the circle to the entry point he’d marked with clear quartz crystals – to amplify their working, she remembered – and smiled at her.
“It’s a magical night, a powerful night, so our spell will work, I promise,” he told her, confidence obvious in his manner and his tone. Her shoulders sagged with relief, and she let out the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. When he reached out his hand to her, she swallowed her hesitation and took it, allowing him to draw her into the space he’d created between the worlds. Voice strong, he welcomed the deities and the directions, using words they’d practised earlier that week. The familiarity soothed her.
But suddenly he pulled her closer to him, right up against his body, and she gasped – he seemed taller now, and broader of chest, and she faltered again, his new proximity to her far more intimate than she was comfortable with.
“Come Rhiannon, let me anoint you, and we will stand before the goddess together.”
Quickly he took a small bottle from a pocket in his cloak, then untied the ribbon fastening it at his throat so that it fell to the ground. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she was trapped by his gaze, and by the magic he’d promised her, and so she stood there powerless, clinging tightly to her belief that this was the only way her mother would become well again.
Unscrewing the lid of the bottle, he tilted it so that a single drop of oil splashed onto his finger, then he rubbed it into the centre of her forehead, its rich scent, combining the heaviness of frankincense with the lightness of lemongrass and the sweetness of peppermint, adding to the dreaminess of the moment.
And then he spoke.
We welcome you god and goddess, under this beautiful full moon light,
Please come into our circle on this portentous night.
Bless us with your strength during this rite,
And imbue us with the immense power of your healing magic and might.
His voice was deeper than usual, and reverent, and Rhiannon stared at him in wonder as light seemed to glow from within him. When his fingers moved to her throat and untied the ribbon that held her cloak in place, she felt it fall to the ground, leaving her totally exposed. Yet the power she saw glinting in his eyes, the presence of the god within him that she convinced herself she could sense, made it feel almost natural, almost normal, in this heightened reality, that they stood here together, their naked bodies caressed by the golden moonlight.
She shivered as he rubbed the next drop of oil onto her chest, between her breasts, and her breath caught as goosebumps rose on her skin and the first inkling of fear and suspicion rippled down her spine.
Desperately she sought comfort in his next words.
God and goddess, as supplicants we stand before you,
Please come into our bodies so we may ease Beth’s pain.
Lend us your power so we can help her move through,
Darkness into light, illness into health again.
His words made her ashamed of her suspicions, and when a soft golden glow shimmered around him, she was awestruck by the immense sense of power emanating from him. For the first time she allowed herself to believe that this would actually work, that he really did know how to heal her mum, and she felt tears welling in gratitude.
It was so kind of him to be helping her like this, instructing her over the past few weeks in his own time, facilitating this ritual tonight, and asking fo
r nothing in return.
She allowed that sentiment to lull her into a place of calm, to fill her with a sense of security and safety, yet her body trembled when he rubbed a drop of oil onto her solar plexus, and this time she wasn’t sure whether it was from the cold, from her fear, or from the naked desire she saw in his eyes.
Time seemed to slow as she stared up at him, trying to read his intentions, to sense whether she should be worried. Surely she was just being a prude, because magic was supposed to be intimate, and raw. It was a stripping away of the physical self and a merging with another’s spirit, and with the spirit of the earth and of the god and the goddess.
An owl hooted overhead, making her smile, and the sound of a small creature scrambling through the underbrush nearby distracted her for a moment. As she turned towards the noise, she felt Evan move even closer, felt his leg push against hers, felt his breath on her face. Panic made her heart race.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, suddenly frightened as his hands clamped down on her shoulders and his mouth came down roughly on hers.
“Shh, Rhiannon, shh,” he crooned, as his tongue traced a path down her neck. “We have to be the god and the goddess, and come together as they do, to power the spell.”
Part of her mind accepted this, so desperate was she for their magic to make her mother better, and she tried to breathe through her fear, to accept that this sacrifice would fuel the working.
Yet another part of her resisted. Tried, as his hands moved from her shoulders down to her chest, then lower, to scream out against it. Prayed, as he crushed her to him, that she could somehow stop him. But physically she was frozen, rooted to the earth, to the woodland, trapped by the heavy scent of the oil burning on her forehead. And even the sound of an approaching storm did nothing to dampen his ardour, or help her find the strength to move and get away from him.
Vision clouding, she tried to float out of her body as panic threatened to overwhelm her. Filled with despair, she wondered how this would affect her friendship with Debbie. Would she be able to look at her friend in the same way, talk about boys so innocently, share her secrets with her? Would she still feel comfortable going to her house for dinners, let alone sleepovers?
Her heart pounded in time with the roll of thunder overhead, and her eyes were squeezed shut – but when she heard him swear, she opened them wide, and was shocked to see a beam of torchlight dancing through the trees behind him.
Hope flared in her heart as she heard the soft but steady tramp of someone moving towards them, and she almost collapsed in relief when Evan released her, knocking the candles over and fleeing into the darkness. He didn’t even pick up his ritual tools or close the circle, so she did her best to unwind it, but it was one thing to watch someone else perform a ritual, and quite another to try to replicate it herself.
Shrugging, she sank to the ground, blindly groping for her cloak, then stood up, wrapping it around her body and clutching it nervously to her chest. Listening intently, she tried to centre herself, to control her breathing, and to work out what new challenge faced her. Who else could be out in the woods tonight? The steps got steadily closer, but she couldn’t get a fix on the direction they were coming from, as gusts of wind buffeted the trees from all angles.
When she heard a twig break behind her she stilled, terror racing through her veins and chilling her blood. Visions of darkness, of nightmares come to life, flooded her mind, and she tried to shut out the flash of intuition that was telling her to run. Where would she go?
When a hand closed over her shoulder, she screamed and tried to twist away, but the bony fingers held her fast.
“Rhiannon,” the voice said, gentle and full of love.
She spun around, hand flying to her mouth, which was hanging open in shock.
“Mum?” she gasped, voice quavering with the remnants of fear that clouded her mind. “What are you doing out here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Beth replied, drawing her daughter close and holding her still-shaking body in her arms. “Are you okay? What’s going on? Honey, you must be so cold,” she added, as Rhiannon’s cloak slid open and revealed that she was naked beneath it.
Blushing furiously, she pulled the dark cloak more tightly around herself, then slowly raised her eyes to her mother’s face. Beth sighed as she heard the sharp intake of breath, and saw the mingled emotions of fear, relief and love, and a sliver of disgust, that flashed through her eyes before she steeled herself and was able to meet her mum’s gaze.
“Come on, you’ll freeze to death out here. How about we go to the cafe for a hot chocolate, and you can tell me what’s going on before we go home to your dad.”
Rhiannon blushed again, and Beth looked at her quizzically, before understanding crossed her face. “Where are your clothes darling?” she asked gently.
Tears fell down Rhiannon’s cheeks as regret settled on her brow. Her mouth tightened as she shook her head, and her mum knew she wasn’t ready to talk just yet. Taking off her own long, thick coat, Beth handed it to her daughter, who gratefully pulled it on and did up every single button, not caring that her cloak bunched uncomfortably at the back. Modesty finally assured, she relaxed slightly and nodded that they could leave.
Beth took her hand, then switched the torch back to full so she could lead them out of the closely growing trees and back to the road.
They trudged along in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, but when the streetlights brightened as they approached the village, Beth felt Rhiannon’s steps slow, and could sense the growing reluctance and shame radiating outwards from her stiff body.
“So, would you like a hot chocolate first, or would you rather head straight home?”
Fear flashed across the young girl’s face as a clap of thunder boomed overhead, and her mum took her hand again and turned in to the High Street. Glad that she could still sense her daughter’s moods, Beth smiled to herself. Her husband Mike was the least scary man she’d ever known, but it was clear that facing her father was the last thing the shivering girl next to her could deal with right now.
Chapter 2
Shelter From the Storm
A bell tinkled as they opened the door to their favourite cafe and rushed inside into the warm and cosy dimness. Rhiannon scurried to the small table at the back of the room, close to the fire and more shadowed than the others. Beth smiled in greeting to her friend Kylie, who ran the cafe, and made a subtle gesture to ensure she didn’t ask Rhiannon any questions when she brought over their drinks. Then, with a sigh of relief, she collapsed down into the soft, comfy chair opposite her daughter.
Now that the adrenaline rush of her search had drained away, she felt the weakness within her body and spirit, and cursed her illness. A shiver went through her, part anger, part cold, part deep sadness.
“I’m so sorry Mum, you must be freezing,” Rhiannon said, embarrassed, as she saw Beth shivering by the fire. As much as she’d like to though, she couldn’t return the coat, and the thought that she was making her mother suffer even more than usual through her stupidity broke her heart.
Forcing a smile, Beth waved away the apology, then waited for Kylie to bring their hot chocolates over then leave them in relative privacy before she spoke.
“Oh my darling, what were you doing out in the woods this late at night, with no clothes, no torch, no coat, nothing? Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you, or pressure you? And where are your clothes?”
Rhiannon shuddered, a flush rising in her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around her body, seeming to shrink in on herself as she huddled miserably across from her mother, and looking suddenly so young, so small, in the huge old armchair.
“It was just a prank with Debbie and Sue,” she whispered, but as her mother’s shrewd eyes raked over her, she knew she couldn’t lie to her. Beth was immensely intuitive, and her disbelief was obvious.
“Okay, that’s not true,” she mumbled, resigned to having to reveal the truth, no matter how m
ortified it made her. “Only please don’t tell Dad, okay? He’ll ground me for months, for years. And I have definitely learned my lesson, I promise. Please?”
Beth took a sip of her hot chocolate, visibly enjoying the sweetness of the drink and the heady aroma of the steam wreathing around her face. It reminded Rhiannon of the mist that had reached out to wrap around her neck though, and she felt a chill rush up her spine.
Her mum leaned over and took her hand. “Oh honey, you don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything. I’m not going to judge you, or be angry with you.”
Tears pricked Rhiannon’s eyes as she felt the truth of the statement. In some ways the fact that her mother understood her and would forgive her anything made this even harder. “Fine,” she grumbled, but her voice shook a little as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I was trying to do a ritual, a healing ritual, to make you better,” she finally admitted, voice a wisp.
Beth felt the words like a dagger in her heart. She doubled over, the pain almost physical, as she lamented again at what her illness was doing to her family. It devastated her, that her daughter felt that she had to take care of her now. She was the parent, the adult, she should be protecting her children, not the other way around. Finally noticing that Rhiannon had stopped talking and was looking sharply at her, not sure whether to continue her explanation, she took a deep breath and motioned for her to go on, trying hard to mask her physical and emotional suffering.
“I’ve just been so worried about you, and so frustrated by my inability to cope with your sickness, or help in any way. But, well, Debbie’s brother is home from travelling, and when I was there a few weeks ago, he told me he was an apprentice witch, and he could help me weave a spell,” she said.
“So I’ve been meeting him after school, learning from him, studying this book of magic that he lent me and trying to impress him with my knowledge, so that he would teach me the spell. We did a practice ritual, and it was like the ones that Rose does, with candles and incense and the building of energy,” Rhiannon explained. Her words tumbled over themselves as she tried to make her mother understand her intentions, and to defend her actions, and those of Debbie’s brother too.
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