by K.N. Lee
The woman laughs again. It’s deep and sultry, putting me on edge.
“Not even if I give you what you want?”
“What do I want?”
Her eyes narrow. I feel like a rabbit being watched by a fox. “You want to be remembered. You want power.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “But more than anything, you want revenge.”
My body stiffens. She is right. Isabelle humiliated me in front of everyone, in the heart of the kingdom. I was made a laughing stock. My curse stirs again. “I’m listening,” I reply.
“Serve me, and I can promise you all three things.” She eyes me, her gaze filled with calculation. “I can’t lift your curse, but I can make it stronger. You’ll be unstoppable.”
I feel power radiating from her like the throbbing cold that surrounds me. She speaks the truth. Do I have a choice? Isabelle has taken everything from me. I can’t fall any further. I can only go up.
I nod. “Very well. What is the name of the mistress I serve?”
The woman laughs again. She reaches out her hand, fingertips touching my chest over my heart.
Cold. Pain. Ice. I scream, arching my back in agony. The pain is all consuming. I try to run, but my limbs won’t work. My body convulses. I feel like I am going to die.
Then she moves her hand away and the pain lifts. I sob with relief, laying in a pathetic huddle at her feet. I still feel cold, but in comparison to the pain, I think I can bear it.
Rearranging her skirts, the woman stands, looking down at me. Gone are the smiles. Her eyes are filled with icy calculation. “My name is Glacia. Go. Be my herald. Destroy Isabelle. Destroy Illyminatym. Freeze the Four Provinces. The cold is coming. Endless winter. Endless night. Not even Silvan can stop me now. Go!”
I stand and hastily bow, then turn and run. I am fast. Strong. It’s supposed to be summer, but I can feel the cold and the frost seeping into me, giving me strength. Power.
I laugh with exhilaration as I bound through the forest, the trees shuddering from the frost in my wake.
I am ice. I am rage. I am power.
I am Jack Frost.
~The End~
About the Author
Kara Jaynes is a fantasy and children's book author. She loves reading, long walks and rain. She's been writing since she was very young and has more stories in her head than she could possibly write.
Please visit the author's website for more information on upcoming books and news.
Connect with the author online.
Also By Kara Jaynes
The Fabled Hunters Trilogy continues in book two, Deception.
Available Now!
Healing the Bayou
Mary Bernsen
After learning that she is adopted, Eliza sets off to locate her biological family and finds them in the Louisiana bayou. But they're more than just locals-they're descended from the area's most famous Voodoo queen, Marie Laveau-Eliza's great-great-grandmother. Surrounded by a mysterious world of séances, spells, and sacrifices, Eliza finds herself worshiped as the last great priestess. What's more, she's inherited the ability to heal the souls of others with a simple touch of her hands. Eliza is expected to cultivate this gift so she can claim her title as Queen and return the Voodoo community to glory. A task Eliza wouldn't mind as long as she could perform it beside the devastating Samuel Mueller. But according to tradition, Samuel is her keeper, and a keeper never becomes romantically involved with his ward. His sacred duty is to protect her. And the bayou is rife with enemies who would sacrifice anything to eliminate outsiders like Eliza. . .
To All Who Are Fascinated With The Occult And The Unknown,
Wicked As We May Be
1
“Oh honey, I’m so sorry.”
Some distant relative I didn’t know was squeezing me tightly, flooding the shoulder of my silk dress with her tears. I politely returned the comforting gesture, patting her back, biting my lip to fight back my own sobs.
I had spent the day wandering around the church, avoiding the open caskets holding the empty shells of what used to be my mother and father. The light that made its way through the painted window panes of the church encircled their bodies, and I was ashamed of myself for not being strong enough to say goodbye properly. My grief did my thinking for me today—I would deal with my guilt tomorrow.
Occasionally a cousin or another family member, familiar from the holiday table, would creep up with sad eyes and we would exchange awkward condolences.
Most of them knew I had an aversion to being touched, so they didn’t know how to approach me. This woman, whoever she was, was clearly not aware of my condition, and it took everything I had not to shove her away. Thankfully, I had worn long sleeves so the discomfort was only surface deep.
“What will you do?” She finally pulled away, and I could breathe again. “Such a big house for just one little girl.”
That was an odd remark. Of all things to be concerned about.
“Um, it’s not really that big,” I said. “And it’s full of beautiful memories. I’ll be just fine.”
She pulled a handkerchief from her bosom and wiped her face, smudging her makeup. “Well, Eliza, if you change your mind, here is my card. I can unload it for you and we can put you into something smaller. Something more appropriate for a single young woman.”
I narrowed my eyes and arched my brow. Seriously? Who the hell was this woman? I snatched the business card from her outstretched hand and read it, keeping the disgust on my face in plain sight. A real-estate agent. This greedy leach probably wasn’t even related to me at all.
I opened my mouth to speak, but not wanting to make a scene, I changed my mind. Pivoting on my heels, I dramatically turned my back to her and walked away.
“Eliza,” she called after me.
The cheap plastic of her stilettos closed in from behind, and I raised my hand to cut her off.
“It wouldn’t be in your best interest to follow me right now,” I said without turning to face her.
I sensed her begin to retreat, and I scanned the crowd. I needed the comfort of a familiar face to take refuge with.
“Such a horrific car accident,” a woman whispered as I walked by.
“What a violent way to go,” a man said.
“And they were so young,” said another.
I guess this was why Mom and Dad always got on me about being such a recluse. There wasn’t anybody here I knew well enough to seek comfort in, and Lord knew I needed it right now. I was being suffocated by strangers.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get out of there, at least for a while. Without saying so much as goodbye to anyone, I found my purse setting near the pulpit and dug for my keys as I made my exit.
The wretched heat of the Florida summer did little to diffuse the explosion building up inside. I was already sweating and lightheaded from my anxiety, and the burning rays of the sun bombarded me with such a force that I had to stop and hold myself steady using the concrete walls of the church. Leaning my full weight against my sanctuary, I buried my face in my hands. Shaking from the endurance it was taking to hold myself together, I urged myself to breathe. I needed to breathe.
As I inhaled deeply, a shadow hovering over me became visible through my parted fingertips. If this woman had followed me, she must be crazy. We weren’t in the church and I was not above losing it on her in the parking lot.
“Go away,” I said sharply.
But the figure didn’t move. It leaned against the wall next to me. I snapped my head up, prepared to lay into the woman.
“Lady—” I started.
Realizing it was a man standing there, I stopped short. He was grinning at my outburst. Heat crept into my cheeks, but considering everything else I was feeling, my embarrassment didn’t last long.
The gentleman pointed to his ear, showing me his Bluetooth, indicating he was on the phone. I’m sorry, I mouthed.
He shrugged, and I couldn’t tell behind his dark sunglasses if he was irritated o
r not until he raised his hand and pantomimed a mocking motion with it, comically telling me that he was bored with the conversation he was having.
I admired his expensive suit. Had he been inside the church? I didn’t know many of my parents’ business contacts, so it was possible he was a friend of theirs. I tried to place him among the crowd that had gathered to show their respects, but I couldn’t find anything familiar about him.
“Yes, ma’am, I understand,” he said ever so formally into the receiver before turning his attention to me. “The boss.”
“Yeah, I figured.” I nodded. “So did you know my parents well?”
He fidgeted with the buttons on his phone. “We worked together.”
“What is it you do?”
“I’m in sales.”
“In sales? What business would a salesman have with my parents?” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but now the suspicious cat was out of the bag. My parents were doctors—I didn’t get the connection.
“Pharmaceutical sales,” he said.
That made sense, but still he had to think just a moment too long for my taste.
“How long have you known them?” I asked as if conducting an interrogation.
“Quite a while. Since before you were born, Eliza.”
“Really?” Maybe I was just being paranoid. He did look like a salesman.
His phone lit up from an incoming call.
“Damn it,” he said before answering. “Yes, ma’am?” His tone had reverted to the businesslike one from earlier. His insincere, devoted employee facade had returned too.
I smiled at his immediate and effortless shift in personality. Oh yeah, he was a salesman.
“Stop dicking around!” A woman screeched through his earpiece. “This should have been taken care of days ago.”
“It will be done by the end of the day,” he assured her.
I was appalled at the language that came next from the stranger on the line, and sensing the need for this conversation to be held in private, I waved goodbye to the salesman and made my way to the crosswalk to find my car.
I climbed into my newly inherited SUV and turned the ignition. Before pulling out of my parking spot the man I had just visited with hopped into a car that pulled up next to the church. The poor guy.
I circled the church and pulled out to an intersection, stopping at the red light. I glanced down at my phone—there were no messages or missed calls. I snarked at the lack of concern shown by the few friends I did have from school.
In the vehicle on my passenger side some guy was staring at me. The intensity in his gaze was creepy—as if he was trying to peel back my skin with his eyes. He was pretty hot, though, I noted when he smiled. Was he flirting? It hardly mattered. I didn’t date. Not much of a relationship could be had with someone who couldn’t let their partner touch her. Besides, I was hardly in the mood to begin dating right now.
I stomped on the gas pedal, focused on my admirer in the car behind me. Tires screeched, and I looked up just in time to see the eyes of the salesman in the passenger seat of a car coming straight at me from the side. Time seemed to slow. My heart skipped and my chest tightened. He wasn’t stopping. Why wasn’t he stopping?
Panic took over, and I jerked the wheel to the right, forgetting about the car I had been so centered on moments earlier. Luckily, he was still far enough behind that I missed him completely, slamming into the post that held up the traffic lights instead. The oncoming car redirected. It was again headed for me, and I braced for the impact.
2
“Take a drink, Eliza. The elixir will give you strength!”
The voice of a young woman called to me as I struggled to adjust my eyes to the darkness surrounding her barely visible silhouette. As I squinted, hoping for something to come into focus, she giggled. The air was filled with excited chatter, and slowly the dim light of a dozen or so torches revealed the stunning blonde that stood in front of me. Her slender frame was covered by a simple, white sundress that came just a little too high on her thighs. A white, golden-edged scarf was wrapped neatly around her neck. Her blue eyes gleamed at me with pure exhilaration—as if I were her god.
Beyond her a crowd of people were dressed in white as well, all looking at me with such intensity that their gazes burned straight through me.
The girl held out a golden chalice decorated with rubies and sapphires and motioned it in my direction, beckoning me to drink from it.
The last thing that I could remember was leaving the church after Mom and Dad’s funeral. I peered past the crowd to try to figure out where these people had taken me.
The ground was laid out with headstones, and a gate caged us in. In the distance I could make out a community sign about a cemetery, but I was more distracted by the tree next to it.
It was a grand oak tree towering over the rest of the modest shrubbery that littered the area. A natural face-like formation was eerily grown into its center, and its eyes were ablaze. A foreboding chill ran down my spine, but I still could not tear my gaze away from it.
Again the girl issued a musical laugh with the grace of a bell.
“Where am I?” The words left my lips so faintly I hardly heard them myself.
“Eliza!” The girl wrinkled her nose. “Are you all right?” She smiled sweetly, her white teeth seeming to glow in the darkness. “Take a drink. You’ll feel better.”
I eyed her. I should be afraid, so why wasn’t I? Here I was in the middle of a cemetery encircled by a group of people I don’t know, and this girl wanted me to blindly drink from a cup that looked as though taken straight from the books of the bible.
Slowly flashes of recollection infiltrated my thoughts, but most of them disappeared again as soon as they came. Camille. Her name is Camille.
She must have sensed my worry, because her smile faded and she furrowed her brows. “I’ll show you.” She brought the cup to her lips and drank, proving to me there was nothing to fear before she again held it out for me to take.
I tried to reason myself into refusing—I was a psychology major after all. So I was completely aware of how ludicrous it was for me to even consider taking it. This was probably some suicidal cult who for some reason found me to be the sign of their much-anticipated end.
I moved my gaze from the extended cup back to Camille’s face. A trail of crimson dribbled down her chin, and I licked my lips in response. Suddenly I could smell the minerals in the blood that filled the cup and my stomach burned with need for the liquid inside the cup. I closed my eyes and breathed in the odor. Why the hell wasn’t I even remotely disgusted?
A primal desire for the taste took over, and before I could stop myself I reached out, took the chalice from her hands and greedily drank in the liquid of life. Each sip gave me more satisfaction than the last, and a warm vibration came over my body. This stranger was right—I was instantly stronger and more alive than I had ever felt in my twenty-four years. This feeling was dangerously intoxicating. I let out a whimper as the elixir was torn from my lips.
“Not so much. You need to be filled but not full,” Camille told me.
“It’s delicious.”
She looked at me, confused. “It is the blood from the goat you sacrificed.”
She gestured in the direction of an altar across the cemetery where a young male goat laid lifeless, blood dripping from his neck.
“I sacrificed him?” I shook my head and tried to dig into my memory but came up with nothing.
“Eliza, are you all right?” She frowned.
I wiped the fluid that had trickled onto my own chin, and a drop hit my chest. I looked down to clean it, and for the first time I noticed I was completely naked. Instinctively I covered my body with my arms, and my cheeks burned hot. All these people had been staring at my naked, not-quite-as-impressive-as-Camille’s figure.
Camille gasped and looked as if I had just insulted her. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of the body of a goddess, Eliza!” She pulled my arms back to my side.<
br />
I let out a snort. Who was she kidding? I crossed my legs to hide my womanhood, brought my long, coal-black hair over my shoulders to cover my breasts, and sighed inwardly as I imagined the sight of myself.
“Could I please have some clothes? I’m not embarrassed,” I lied. “I’m just cold.”
“Oh! Yes, of course. Usually we would wait a bit before you wore the ceremonial dressings, but we don’t need our priestess getting sick. Samuel! Bring the Queen’s clothing. She is cold.”
She was talking to someone behind me, and I turned to see who it was. There was no one there, and I began to worry that her imaginary friend would be bringing me imaginary clothes. My amusement with myself was short-lived—my stomach burned all of a sudden. As the girl in front of me started to sway and blur I blinked hard. A force dug into my back, and pain surged through my body. Screaming as if my soul were on fire, I grew so dizzy that I dropped to my knees, completely helpless.
Oh God, they drugged me!
Panic was setting in, and I strained my neck to look up at Camille, who watched me in horror. She’d drank the blood too, so why wasn’t she ill? She must have just pretended to drink it.
I shifted from fearful to angered by the betrayal. But recognizing how silly it was to feel betrayed by a complete stranger, I redirected the emotion back to myself. How could I be so stupid? I knew better! But something had taken over—I wasn’t myself. Something had made me drink it.
“Samuel, your gloves!” Camille hissed.
The pressure ceased at once. While the pain still lingered, it was much more bearable and I could breathe again. Relief washed over me and I collapsed forward. A cold sweat drenched my body. I took slow, exaggerated breaths in and out through clenched teeth, meditating to recover.
Camille removed the scarf she wore and wrapped both of her hands in the edges as she knelt next to me. She took my chin in her covered hand and lifted it to look at her.