Ancient Forces Collection

by Bill Myers

  “I just sent Z an email, and I’m hoping he’ll see it before we leave,” Becka said.

  “We really need to get going, sweetheart,” Mrs. Williams said with a look at the clock on the wall. “I don’t want to be late for registration.”

  “I’ll only be a sec, I promise.” Becka sprinted up the stairs. She rounded the corner and headed for Scott’s room, where the computer screen glowed. She beamed when she noticed that a message was awaiting her. She clicked on the icon and opened the email. It was from Z.

  Subject: Wicca

  From: Z

  To: Becka

  Good to know you’ll be spending the weekend with Julie. Regarding Wicca: on the surface it claims to promote healing, positivity, and oneness with nature. However, it’s nothing more than a repackaged pagan belief system combining feminism, environmentalism, and spiritualism into a misguided and dangerous brew. Although Wiccans see Wicca as different from other forms of witchcraft, they rely upon spell casting, alignment of the stars and planets, and opening up one’s self to demons — which they’ll never admit. Wiccans believe there are many legitimate pathways to God, and they deny the concept of absolute evil as found in the person of Satan. They even deny that sin exists. Think about it. No sin, no need for Jesus. Nevertheless, the practice of Wicca is one of the fastest-growing religions in the world today.

  The Bible predicted this: “For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths. But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry” (2 Timothy 4:3 – 5).

  The Wicca belief system is so popular, even the cartoon series Scooby-Doo has promoted the notion that Wicca witches are a good thing. Don’t be fooled, Becka. There is no such thing as “good” magic. Nor are there good witches. All witchcraft is a perversion because it denies the need for a Savior by suggesting there are many ways to the Father.

  Be careful. Be steadfast. Be true to the truth.

  Z

  Becka switched off the computer, thankful to have at least some idea what Wiccans believe. At the same time, that hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever she was engaged in spiritual warfare rumbled with fresh intensity.

  Her thoughts drifted to Julie’s birthday party. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for them to go to the bookstore and meet Sarina. Sure, Sarina and The Hex were super popular. But if Sarina as a practicing Wiccan was, as Z implied, into witchcraft and casting spells, there was no way Becka, Julie, Krissi, and the others should get near her.

  Not after Julie and Krissi already had almost deadly encounters with demon possession several months ago.

  But how could Becka stop them from going?

  It was a few minutes before seven o’clock when the Suburban, with Julie at the wheel, pulled around the corner and headed for Borders. Becka sat in the front, and Krissi, Rachael, and Laura were sandwiched together in the middle seat.

  Although the girls were too busy talking to watch, a DVD with three episodes of The Hex, a gift from Krissi, played on the overhead TV monitor. Rachael had given Julie a beautiful journal, handmade in Indonesia. Laura gave her a crystal pendant on a silver chain. And Becka’s present — a gift set of Julie’s favorite lip gloss, eyeliner, and blush — was a hit.

  Now that they were almost to the book signing, Becka’s stomach was doing back flips. And her suggestion that they should maybe do something else — like go see a movie instead of meeting Sarina — went over like a lead balloon.

  “It was just a suggestion,” Becka said. She crossed her arms.

  “Right, and miss seeing Sarina?” Krissi said, rolling her perfectly curled eyelashes. “Hey, Beck, control yourself; don’t be so much fun,” she added. She reached forward and gave Becka a playful tap on the shoulder.

  Rachael snickered.

  Although it wasn’t mean-spirited, the mockery stung, but Becka let it pass.

  “I don’t get it, Becka,” Laura said, turning toward Becka and then flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Why are you so down on someone you haven’t even met?”

  Becka held her tongue.

  “I don’t know,” Krissi said, her forehead creased into a knot. “In a way, I can understand where Becka’s coming from.”

  “How’s that?” Laura asked. “If you ask me, Becka seems to be paranoid about stuff. Especially when it comes to all of that hocus-pocus Sarina does.” Laura wiggled her fingers in the air as if casting a magical spell.

  “Actually, I happen to think it’s a whole lot more than hocus-whatever,” Krissi said. “Then again, Laura’s got a point too. Maybe we should wait to meet Sarina first before judging her.”

  Becka looked out the window. She regretted saying anything. Why should she care about Laura when she couldn’t see something so potentially dangerous? Then again, maybe Laura didn’t know she was flirting with serious stuff. Come to think of it, maybe now was a good time to use the earplugs from Z.

  Julie cleared her throat. “Look, guys, let’s drop it and have a good time. Okay? Becka’s just trying to be helpful. Anyway, we’re here.”

  “Check it out! The place is packed,” Krissi said. “Even Channel 7 is here.” She took out her compact and checked her lips.

  “Check out the limo,” Rachael said, pointing to a white stretch limousine that seemed to fill the street. “This is so cool!”

  Julie found a parking space, and the girls piled out of the vehicle and raced to the door. As they entered, Becka figured there must be at least a hundred people. She had never seen the place so crammed. Some were sitting on chairs or on the floor. Others stood around the edges between the bookshelves.

  A microphone mounted on a stand was positioned up front. To the left, stacks of books were piled high on a table. Becka was surprised — and a little alarmed — to see Priscilla Bantini, the Ascension Lady from the New Age Ascension Bookshop in town, approach the mike. Someone with a Press badge pinned to his jacket snapped a photo. The cameraman from Channel 7, his camera mounted on a tripod, panned across the room before positioning himself for a close-up of the Ascension Lady.

  “Good evening,” Priscilla said. Her salt-and-pepper hair complemented her thin frame. “And welcome. I’m so glad everyone could make it. You’re in for a special treat tonight.”

  “Follow me,” Laura said to the group just above a whisper.

  As the Ascension Lady welcomed the crowd, Laura led them toward the front row. Much to Becka’s surprise, five seats had been personally reserved for them. Laura sat on the end, and Julie took the seat next to her. Then Becka, Krissi, and Rachael filed in behind them like ducklings.

  As they took their seats, Becka heard the Ascension Lady say, “I’ve asked Sarina to grace us with a few words and perhaps a reading from her new book, White Magic: Wicca for Teen Seekers .” She held up a copy as if she were holding an original Picasso. The crowd burst into applause.

  “These are great seats,” Julie said to Laura over the hand clapping.

  Priscilla tucked the book under one arm and said, “Sarina might even entertain a few questions. So join me in giving Sarina Fox a warm Crescent Bay welcome!” She clapped her frail hands together for all they were worth.

  Everyone around Becka leaped to their feet as Sarina glided in from a side door. Becka’s heart skipped a beat. There was no mistaking it: Sarina was the girl in the photograph from Z. She had a completely different look, but it was her.

  The sensation, like the buzz of an alarm, started to ring at the base of Becka’s skull. The warning spread to her forehead and resonated between her ears. The sudden ringing in her head was so strong, she was sure Julie could hear it. She glanced out of the corner of her eye.

  Julie was too busy gawking to notice.

  Sarina stood in front of the microphone,
holding bottled water in one hand. The room exploded with flashes of light as camera-happy fans snapped dozens of photos. With a relaxed smile, she waited for the applause to subside. She appeared to be in her late twenties, and she wore little makeup. Her jet-black, shoulder-length hair framed her well-tanned face. Her black tank top hung loosely across her shoulders and revealed most of her trim midriff. She wore torn blue jeans, which hovered three inches below her pierced navel.

  Becka noticed that her belt buckle was a circle with two fishlike images — one black, the other white — entwined. Becka was pretty sure the symbol was a Chinese design that had to do with a yin-yang philosophy. She’d ask Z to be sure.

  Sarina took a sip of water, set the drink down on the table to her left, and then motioned to the fans to take their seats.

  “You’re too kind,” she started to say.

  Two kids in the back shouted, “WE LOVE YOU, Sarina!”

  Several others did the same.

  “I come to you in the name of the goddess,” Sarina said. “Tonight, if it’s all right with you, I thought I’d start with a few words about my quest to bond with the Earth Spirit before I read from White Magic .”

  More applause. More ringing in Becka’s ears.

  “My story is simple,” Sarina said. “I was twelve when a brave cousin introduced me to the fabulous world of Wicca. I say ‘brave’ because for years I was lied to by the so-called Christian church.” Sarina scanned the faces in the room. She paused when she met Becka’s eyes.

  Becka felt her throat go dry.

  “I . . . I discovered that Wicca isn’t all that different from other spiritual paths,” Sarina said after a moment. “God, whoever he may be, is like a diamond. There are many facets and many ways to view him. But there are a few truths worth pointing out. Wiccans don’t believe in the silly notion of devils running around in red jumpsuits.”

  Someone giggled.

  “We don’t blame our problems on some mythical creature. And there’s no such place as hell,” Sarina continued. “Think about it. How could a loving God send anyone to hell?” She paused to take a sip from her water bottle.

  Sarina’s question prompted Becka’s mind to drift to the death of her dad. And why would a loving God take my dad away from me? she wondered.

  “No,” Sarina said, placing the bottle down. “We make our own hell on earth when we ignore the opportunity to seek healing and peace. So, as a Wiccan, I’ve embraced a life-affirming religion, one that seeks to care for Mother Earth, desires harmony between all people groups, and gives me power to evolve to a higher level of spirit awareness.”

  A teen in the back row shouted, “You go, girl!”

  A warm smile eased across Sarina’s face. “And, for those nervous parents in the crowd, let me just say that we Wiccans practice white magic. Unlike those into black magic, we align ourselves with the lord and the lady. We strive to cast spells that effect positive change in us and in our world.”

  Becka stole a look behind her. Everyone appeared to be captivated by Sarina. As she spoke, her voice definitely had a magical, mesmerizing quality to it.

  “There’s one exception,” Sarina said placing her right hand on her hip. Her voice became noticeably strident. “Wiccans will use their power to fight back against those who might try to silence them or do them harm.”

  Becka shifted in her seat. With a glance, she noticed Julie hanging on every word. Not good. This was exactly what Becka was afraid would happen. They’d come and get an earful of spiritual mumbo jumbo.

  Sarina’s tone softened. “Anyway, this is my first book. The first selection I’d like to read is called ‘Celebrate the Craft.’ May I?”

  As the audience urged her on, part of Becka wanted to put as much distance between this place and herself as possible. On the other hand, Sarina’s confidence and easygoing style sparked her curiosity. Becka bit the corner of her bottom lip as a question surfaced in her mind. Was it at all possible that there might be some truth in what Sarina was saying?

  4

  Scott propped his feet against the edge of Darryl’s desk. They had migrated to Darryl’s bedroom, where a TV was mounted from the ceiling. “This is the life,” said Scott, reaching for his third slice. “Pizza . . . a movie . . . and my best friend. What could be better?”

  “Uh, maybe if you could get your bird to shut up,” Darryl said with a sniffle.

  “Bite your tongue, heathen,” Scott said.

  “Why? What did I say?”

  “You used the S word.”

  “I did not.”

  “Did too.”

  “All I asked was how to shut up that bird — ”

  Scott cut him off. “First rule of bird ownership. Never say anything in the presence of our fine-feathered friend that you don’t want him to learn.”

  Darryl pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so I confess. I never went to bird-sensitivity training. What should I say?”

  Scott finished a can of soda. “Try saying, ‘Knock it off.’ ”

  Darryl sniffled and then looked at Cornelius. “You heard him, Cornelius. Knock it off.”

  The bright green-and-scarlet military macaw bobbed his head up and down as he dashed from one end of his portable perch to the other. “I love you! Give me kisses!!”

  “I can’t believe I’m having a conversation with a bird,” Darryl said.

  “SQUAWK . . . cowabunga, dude!”

  When Scott and Becka first got Cornelius years ago, they had taught him some of the cool sayings from American TV they’d watched in South America. They learned the hard way that once a bird learned something, it rarely stopped repeating it. Worse, a bird like Cornelius could live sixty years — or more.

  “How am I gonna watch my movie with that racket?” Darryl said. “Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea bringing him here with you this weekend.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t have much of a choice.” Scott tore off an edge of his pizza and fed it to Cornelius.

  “Mmmm. Is it good?” Cornelius said, his eyes dilating. He grabbed the crust with his powerful beak. Balancing on one foot, he used the other claw to hold it while he chowed down.

  “Cornelius, just so you know . . . we own a microwave,” Darryl said, giving the bird an evil eye. “And I’m not afraid to use it.”

  “Make my day,” Cornelius said with a squawk.

  Darryl’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, Cornelius, can you say, ‘KFC’?”

  “Very uncool,” Scott said. He pitched his empty soda can into the trash. “You got any more soda?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Darryl said. He stood to leave. “Just pause the movie for me.”

  Scott fumbled with the remote control and pushed a button. The screen jumped to Channel 7. “Oops. Wrong button.”

  Darryl glanced at the screen. “Hold on.”

  “What?”

  “I know that place. Isn’t that the Borders bookstore downtown?”

  Scott squinted. “Sure is.”

  “Who’s that blonde lady at the mike?”

  “Sarina Fox. I think she’s a star in The Hex or whatever,” Scott said. “Girls love that show — don’t ask me why.”

  They listened for half a second to the report.

  “So, you want another Dr. Pepper?” Darryl asked with a sniff.

  “Shh — I’m trying to listen.”

  The reporter was saying, “. . . to sign her new book. Sarina describes White Magic as an intro to Wicca for teens. Now, Wicca is a fairly recent incarnation of an ancient version of witchcraft. What’s more, Wicca is one of the fastest-growing religions in America today. Judging from the number of fans squeezing into the bookstore, it looks like this TV star has struck a responsive chord with the book crowd.”

  The camera panned the faces of the audience.

  “I don’t believe it,” Darryl said, pointing to the screen.

  “What happened? Did Elvis show up?”

  “Isn’t that your sister in the front row?”

&nb
sp; Scott’s eyes narrowed. “What in the world . . .”

  “I didn’t know she was into witchcraft.”

  “She’s not.” Scott sat forward on the edge of his seat. He was certain he’d seen Sarina’s face somewhere just recently. But where?

  “Then what’s she doing next to Laura?”

  Scott blinked. Darryl was right. It didn’t make sense. Last year Laura was part of the dynamic Brooke-and-Laura duo of The Society. Granted, they met in the back of the Ascension Bookshop. But Becka would never hang out with them. At least not to Scott’s knowledge.

  The reporter finished his commentary, and the program switched to a commercial.

  At the sight of his sister, Scott felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Didn’t Z tell him to be praying for her? Instead, Scott had been too busy eating pizza and watching TV. He’d blown it, big time. He’d completely neglected his part of the assignment.

  Scott shook his head in disgust. “I’m such a dunce.”

  “No argument there.”

  “Nice.”

  Scott fell silent. A heaviness pressed down on his chest. His mind raced as he scanned the bedroom for a clock. “Hey, what time is it?”

  “I think it’s about eight or so.”

  “Perfect. Can I use your computer for a minute?”

  “In the middle of our movie?”

  Scott wiped his hands on his pants. “I just need a minute to see if Z is online.”

  Darryl adjusted his glasses. “I’m kinda surprised Z even talks to you after what we did to find him.” Several months ago and at Darryl’s suggestion, Scott, with the help of Darryl’s computer-hack cousin Hubert, had tried unsuccessfully to trace Z’s identity.

  Scott shrugged. “Can he blame us for being a little curious? I mean, like, he knows stuff about us that only someone in the family would know, you know?”

  “Huh?”