Into the Storm: Into the Storm Trilogy Book One

by Serene Conneeley

  Peering nervously to the side, she saw a beautiful woman with flowing red hair, draped in a long blue dress and wreathed in mist and fog. A gentle smile gave warmth to her features, and her kind eyes were deep pools of calm strength that Rhiannon wanted to dive into and submerge herself within.

  “Who are you?” she asked in wonder, but the stranger was silent, her eyes never leaving hers. Reaching out a pale hand, she placed it over Rhiannon’s heart, which made her suck in her breath in fear, before she felt a wonderful warmth seep into her skin, into her bones, into her soul.

  Then the tears came again, even more violent than before, as the woman folded her into a close embrace. But while they flowed for the longest time, these ones were different. These ones were cleansing and soothing and clearing. Final.

  “Sweet Rhiannon,” she heard, in the kindest voice imaginable. “You are a survivor, a warrior, a healer.”

  She drew back from the arms that were holding her and looked up. The mists were swirling around the blue-clad figure, and around her. She couldn’t work out what was going on, but it felt so reassuring that she finally let her defences fall, and gave herself over to the sensation of peace she was being surrounded with.

  Time stretched out and snapped back, weaving itself around the two of them, and while they sat there, no one else climbed the hill. There was blessed silence. She didn’t even hear the sound of birds soaring above them.

  Finally, as the sun began its slow descent to the western horizon, Rhiannon sensed movement over her head once more. Pulling back from the shoulder of the mysterious woman, she gazed upwards, and felt her heart lift as she saw white birds wheeling above them, where she had only ever seen black ones before. They looked like tiny white angels, their wings spread wide as they soared so effortlessly through the calm skies.

  “Angel terns,” the woman in blue whispered. “Some call them faery terns. They represent peace, and hope. And they have come to whisper to you of magic and of healing. Sweet Rhiannon of the birds, of healing and inspiration, they are a part of you, a reminder that you hold all that you need within you. That you are stronger than you think.”

  The sunlight reflecting off their wings dazzled her, and she smiled as she watched them, so playful with each other, so swift and graceful. And their song was beautiful – she felt it within her, stirring her soul, soothing her heart, lifting her spirits higher.

  Dropping her gaze for a moment, she turned to the blue-robed woman to share her joy, but there was no one there, just a swirl of mist and a hint of colour that faded away into nothingness. She looked back to the sky, but the birds had gone too. For a moment she felt bereft, as though she’d lost a friend, but then she smiled with recognition as she sensed something change within her. Suddenly she felt so loved, so understood, as though she had a layer of protection – or the blue-clad woman’s cloak of mist – wrapped around her. A strength she didn’t recognise took root in her heart, peace filled her, and the first fluttering of hope stirred within her.

  As she slowly walked back down the hill, she thought of the white bird on her mother’s card, and the white birds that had wheeled above her. When she got home she picked up the white dress from the kitchen floor and went upstairs, pinning the card from her mum to her mirror frame, and slipping the white dress over her head.

  It sounded crazy, but whatever it was – some combination of her mother’s gift and the touching card, the beauty of the birds who had appeared to her, or the comfort and kind words from the mysterious stranger – somehow the little things that had been hurting her so deeply stopped hurting quite as much. And after months of feeling as though her mother had left her, she began to sense that Beth was still with her in some way.

  Smoothing the dress over her hips, she twirled around in a circle, and smiled as the white fabrics floated softly around her. When her dad knocked on her door and asked if she was ready to go to Rose’s, she nodded, and his heart filled with hope as he saw the light in his daughter’s eyes, which had been dulled for so long, reignite.

  “Thank you my darling,” he whispered to Beth, and for a moment he felt his wife around him too.

  * * * * *

  Later that night, curled up in bed in her newly pale, light-filled room, Rhiannon reached out for the first of her beautiful new gifts. Dinner at Rose’s had been lovely, from the food, the soft candlelight and the conversation, to the vases of white roses, jasmine and gardenias on the table and throughout the cottage, which smelled so much like her mother, and made her happy and sad at the same time.

  After the main course, Rose had asked Rhiannon to come into the kitchen with her to help serve the dessert, but it was just a ploy to get her alone.

  “I wanted to give you this,” the priestess said, handing her a parcel wrapped in purple satin. “You can open it now,” she added, when Rhiannon hesitated.

  Carefully she unwrapped the colourful cloth, and smiled when she saw the pretty journal. It was a deep dark purple colour – the same shade as her new quilt cover – with swirling silver filigree embossed over the top. Book of Shadows was written on a small plaque in the middle of the cover.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, slightly awestruck by the gift. “But I’m not sure what I would write in it...”

  Rose took her hand. “In your own time sweet girl. You might want to start tonight, or you might want to wait until next year, or a few years from now. I just want you to know that you are welcome within our magic circle, and at our rituals, as well as within the inner coven – if and when you feel ready,” she offered.

  Then the priestess picked up another parcel, this one wrapped in green satin, and handed it over. “I wanted you to have this too, and so did your mum.”

  Rhiannon raised her eyebrows. “I don’t deserve so many presents,” she insisted, but Rose just smiled.

  “It’s not like that.”

  Gently untying the ribbon, she had stared, stunned, when the fabric slid to the floor to reveal an old leather book, with hundreds of pages within it. The cover was embossed in swirling leaves and ivy, and it was bound together with silver clasps. Rhiannon ran her finger over the cover in awe. It looked ancient, and it felt powerful.

  “It was your mum’s Book of Shadows, which she’d been adding to for more than twenty years, since her very first ritual,” Rose explained.

  Rhiannon’s heart felt as though it might overflow with all the emotions warring within her – sadness, regret, loss, fear, angst, love – but there was a growing sense of connection too. “Thank you. It’s perfect,” she whispered.

  Rose had hugged her, given her a pretty fabric bag to put the books in, then picked up the apple pie and warm pot of custard from the bench and led her back to the table.

  Now, Rhiannon opened her mum’s Book of Shadows, running her fingers lovingly over the pages, over words familiar and not-so-familiar. It was fascinating to see her writing style change as the years passed, so intriguing to skim over amazing rituals Beth had done, that she couldn’t even begin to understand. It seemed her mother had been far more of a witch than she’d ever known, and she longed to explore her world of wisdom.

  After a while though, she put it down on the bed beside her and reached for the other book, her book. It was gorgeous, so much her style, and her colour even. She was touched by the beauty of the gift, and the meaning and care Rose had obviously taken in choosing it for her.

  And it was perfect for this night. It was New Year’s Eve – ushering in a new year, a new page, a new chapter, a new beginning. A new hope.

  Slowly she opened to the first page, picked up her purple pen, and started to write.

  I am Rhiannon. Motherless, and grandmotherless too on my mum’s side (by her choice, not her death), but I am just beginning to realise how much I am loved.

  As she carefully wrote down the words, she realised how deeply true they were.

  I have a wonderful father, who is so much stronger and more complex than I had ever known. I have a brother who I adore, and
it seems I have Rose, the best mentor anyone could ask for, the best substitute gran, the best friend even…

  Her eyelids were starting to droop as sleep circled around her, so she gently placed the books on her bedside table and reached out to turn off her lamp, just as the clock struck midnight.

  “Happy New Year,” she whispered, and was surprised to find herself hopeful. Then she laughed. It certainly couldn’t be any worse than the one just gone…

  Chapter 21

  Written In the Stars

  Beth... Twenty years ago...

  As sunlight poured through her window, Beth woke up with a smile. Today she was spending the day with Mike and Violet, doing a divination course with some apparently awesome teacher/guru, and she couldn’t wait. Since attending Rose’s rituals, doing the witchcraft course and having the healing, plus her psychic reading at the fair with Jenny, she’d become intrigued with the potential for magic and spirituality.

  It also touched her deeply that Violet and Mike had invited her to go with them. Travelling was wonderful, and she’d met some amazing people and done so many incredible things, but it was tough to make lasting connections when you were constantly moving on. And while her employers in Paris were lovely, she wasn’t quite as fluent in French as she would have liked, and the language barrier on their part too precluded any really deep sharing. She’d missed having close friends, and now that she was thinking she might stay here, it meant even more to her that they’d included her.

  Although Mike and Violet were a few years younger than her, and had barely left their village, they were both so wise – and in some ways she felt they were more mature than her. She giggled. Perhaps she needed to step up and stop being so immature. Take responsibility for her life and her choices.

  It still surprised her that they had both welcomed her so genuinely, and invited her to be part of their magical world. And it made her feel ashamed, because she knew that if it had been her going out with Mike, she wouldn’t have let Violet tag along. She’d be guarding him, and their time together, jealously, and zealously. God, that was a terrible rhyme!

  Laughing as she threw the covers back, she quickly got ready, then ran downstairs, her mother’s goading as she ate breakfast not even penetrating the cloud of joy she held tightly around herself. When she heard Mike beep the car horn, she raced outside and piled into the back seat. Even the drive over to the town half an hour away was fun with her new friends, and she admired the easy camaraderie they drew her into, and longed for the love they had for each other.

  While one part of her, the mean, jealous part, wanted to dislike Violet, she just couldn’t. The girl was so kind and sweet, and so together. She’d already decided she was going to be a social worker, and help people, and she saw learning divination and other psychic and alternative healing modalities as an extra way to assist them, offering spiritual insight and reassurance in addition to traditional therapeutic methods.

  On top of that she was really funny, and the three of them were still laughing as they found the building the course was being held in and walked into the classroom.

  But when the teacher turned towards them, they all froze, their laughter dying off into silence. Beth felt suddenly hot, then freezing cold, and her stomach clenched in shock. The teacher was Andrew. Her Andrew. The guy she’d been dating in Paris, who’d sworn his love to her then mysteriously disappeared from her life. What the hell was he doing here?

  Once she finally managed to breathe again, she glanced over at Mike, and saw him staring at the guy with unusual hostility. Puzzled, she looked at Violet, then back to Andrew, and was perturbed to see their gazes locked on each other, with an intensity that was disturbing, and so clearly oblivious to everyone else in the room. Silence cloaked them for long moments, until finally, thankfully, someone else walked in behind them and slipped into a seat in the back row, breaking the teacher’s concentration.

  “Good to see you again Shelley,” he said to the girl who’d just come in, then he moved over to Beth and her friends.

  “Hi, I’m Andre,” he said, sticking out his hand to Mike. As Violet’s boyfriend reluctantly introduced himself, Beth stared, confused. Andre? This was Andrew.

  “I’m Beth,” she said, challenge in her voice.

  He shook her hand too, and grinned. “Andre,” he insisted.

  For a moment she doubted herself. Could she be so mistaken? Could he have a twin? But she’d seen him just a few weeks ago. Had been kissing him just a few weeks ago. And assuming they would be reunited as soon as she could get back to London. Of course it was him.

  She watched, numb, as he turned his full attention to Violet, holding her hand far longer than was necessary, and his gaze as he looked her up and down all too familiar. And filled with lust. No wonder Mike looked so uncomfortable.

  Seating them in the front row, with Violet closest to his desk and Beth positioned between her and Mike, Andrew began the class. But right away Beth vagued out, blushing with embarrassment that she’d dated the teacher. She was terrified that Violet and Mike would think less of her if they found out, and worried that Andrew would say something about it, single her out and make fun of her in some way, in front of the whole class.

  Mike seemed as on edge as she was, and she felt bad for him. It must be awful to see someone else so obviously fawning over your girlfriend. Especially when that someone technically had his own girlfriend – her! Then she noticed that inbetween gazing up at Andrew with adoration, Violet was furiously scribbling notes. She couldn’t bring herself to concentrate enough for that though, no matter how interesting the topic.

  When the class took a break mid-morning, Mike went off to grab coffees, and Violet turned to Beth with shining eyes.

  “Isn’t he amazing?” she gushed.

  “He’s lovely,” she replied. “And he loves you so much.”

  Violet gasped. “What? I just met him!”

  “Oh, I thought you meant Mike. Your boyfriend Mike.”

  “No silly, Andre! He’s just so wise, isn’t he, and so magical, and so gorgeous! I could listen to him talk for days!”

  Or talk about him for days, it seemed, as she continued raving about how great he was, everything from his teaching methods and wisdom to his long, apparently beautiful hair and chiselled cheekbones. So enamoured of him was Violet that she didn’t notice her friend hadn’t said a word.

  Beth was relieved when Mike returned with their coffees, assuming that Violet would change the subject, but she didn’t, and the poor guy looked more devastated by the minute. When Violet pushed him to agree with her admiration, he muttered that yes, he was impressed with the course so far, then asked her a question about one of the exercises they’d done earlier. And off she went again, gushing about the class – and the teacher – and oblivious to the discomfort of her companions.

  Throughout the next session, Beth tried to figure out how she felt. And what it meant, that her boyfriend had turned up with a new name, was pretending he’d never met her before, and was hitting so hard and so obviously on Mike’s girlfriend.

  * * * * *

  During the lunch break she was quiet, preoccupied, but Violet kept up an endless stream of conversation about how brilliant “Andre” was, and didn’t notice her silence. And Mike was too busy brooding, and struggling with his own misery, to be aware of anyone else.

  In the next session, Beth started feeling angry. She and the so-called spiritual teacher had been declaring their love for each other just a few weeks ago. The only reason they’d ended their relationship, or so he’d claimed, was that he had to go back to England – hence her acceptance of her sister’s wedding invitation, so she could move back to London and move in with Andrew. Yet it was abundantly clear that he didn’t have the same expectations of their relationship, if his behaviour today was any indication.

  Seeing him had shaken her to the core, and being in the same room with him all day, listening to his smooth voice, was bringing back every moment of their time toge
ther, every line he’d spoken about his love for her – which seemed now to have been a lie, and yet she still so wanted to believe him.

  When she’d walked into class that morning she’d been speechless with shock at seeing him, unable to find her voice when he asked the class questions, and barely able to mutter “I don’t know” in answer to the one he’d directed at her.

  His smirk at her inability to speak made her furious, but mostly she was sad. Quite separate to her plans to return to London to be with him, she’d wanted to share this course with Violet and Mike, and had been so looking forward to the three of them spending this time together, laughing and learning and sharing as they developed their divination skills.

  Violet had raved about the teacher, who she’d read about in a few spiritual magazines, so she’d hoped she might find some insight about her situation with Andrew in whatever they learned in class. And it seemed that she had found answers – just not in the manner she’d expected.

  It hurt her head to wonder at his motive, to try to understand his actions. Why tell her he loved her if he didn’t? She’d never pushed for commitment – he’d been the first to say it, to claim his love for her, and she’d only considered how deep her feelings for him ran after he’d confessed that he loved her.

  When they broke briefly for afternoon tea, Violet continued gushing about how wonderful he was, how inspiring, how charming, how charismatic. In contrast, her boyfriend seemed even less impressed with the teacher than he had been earlier, and increasingly put out by Violet’s over-the-top enthusiasm.

  And when class resumed, Andrew – sorry, Andre – was paying even more attention to Violet, playing up to her, telling her how wonderful she was, how enlightened. Even worse was that Violet was lapping it all up, and the anguish on Mike’s face when he saw her gazing up at their teacher with puppy dog eyes nearly broke Beth’s heart, quite aside from how devastated she felt that her supposed boyfriend was taking such delight in flirting so dramatically right in front of her.