48. Cats and Rats
Annie let me off at Mercy’s house before going off to work. It was another crappy, gray day. I knew it was getting colder because I almost fell flat on my butt going up her icy steps. The silvery frozen rain was almost invisible to the eye and it was easy to get fooled, especially if you were distracted like me.
I was thinking about Ian. I couldn’t be too mad at him because he doesn’t seem to know too much. It was either that, or he just wasn’t able to face up to what he is - a diabole. Eventually, he’ll have to figure things out and I hope he doesn’t get hurt doing it. I just don’t know how I feel about him right now.
I also had mixed feelings about what was to come. I didn’t like regressing, but I understood the necessity of learning the truth about myself. Mercy opened the door just as I was about to reach for it. “Tess, you’re looking better today,” she commented as she glanced down at my feet. They were feeling better, cushioned in my fur lined boots.
“Yeah, I’m OK. I’m just a little nervous about going through this again, especially after what happened the other night,” I admitted. After the past regression sessions, I’ve always experienced increased anxiety and bad dreams of past lives. The witch dunking flashback or whatever it was, took it to a whole other level.
Belinda strode in with open arms, gave me a big hug, and held both of my hands. “How are you doing, Tessie? It’s wonderful to see you again.”
“Nice to see you too, Belinda.”
She gazed at me with her intense green eyes. “I know each session is difficult for you but in the long run it will accomplish two essential things. First of all, your special abilities that have been repressed for so long will fully emerge. Secondly, your true purpose in this life will become crystal clear. That knowledge may help us to challenge a potential catastrophe that may affect so many innocents.”
“I’m glad you believe in me, because I sure don’t,” I grumbled.
“Mom,” Mercy interceded. “Remember I told you that Tess wanted to ask you about something that happened to her.”
Belinda nodded, “Oh, yes, self regression.”
“What is self regression?” I asked.
Belinda sighed. “If someone has been hypnotically regressed several times, it appears that they may regress on their own to a particularly traumatic past event. Mind you, it is very rare. But I have heard of it happening.”
“I think it happened to me,” I said, taking a breath to try and calm myself.
Belinda gazed at me, sympathy in her eyes. “From what Mercy told me, I believe you are right. She said you were undergoing the witch water test and that you developed a bad sore throat from the water entering your throat and your lungs.”
I nodded, trying not to think about that choking sensation.
Belinda frowned. “She also said that you recalled a man from a previous regression.”
“Yes, when I regressed back to my life in Germany I had seen the man in purple. It was the same one I saw the other night.
Belinda took my hand. “I am sorry, Tess. Between the strong physical symptoms, recognizing the man in purple and the fact that it was a witch water test all points to a self regression. A witch water test is very traumatic and it is definitely an event that a witch might flash back to. Do you know if you died during the test?”
“No, I never got to that point. I was coughing so hard that I woke up my aunt. She was concerned so she woke me up before I saw what happened.”
Belinda sat in thought, her hand absently rubbing her chin. She finally turned to me. “I think I know what to do. When people get hypnotically regressed to a past life, it’s as if a little portal opens up in their subconscious that enables them to view scenes from their past lives. Sometimes that portal gets stuck open. Ideally, you want it to close when the hypnotic session is over. When you are regressed this time, I can make a hypnotic suggestion to close the portal when you are done.” She raised her eyebrows. “I have heard of that technique before. Hopefully, it will work.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, me too.”
Belinda patted me on the shoulder. “Why don’t you sit down, Tess and I’ll make you a cup of the Pu’erh tea. Then you can relax for a few minutes before we get started.”
I put my head back and closed my eyes. I would so rather take a nap than go through this. “Here’s the tea, dear.” Belinda set down the pot and the tea cup and sat across from me. She paused for a moment before adding, “By the way, before we start, there is something else I wanted to talk about with you. It involves something that Mercy asked me about, the incident with the rats.”
I looked at her sharply. “What do you know about the rats?”
“I believe you are right to believe those rats were going after you. It’s related to what you heard recently about cats. Mercy told me that when you visited the Petrov’s you learned how good witches may choose to reincarnate as cats.”
“Yes, I did learn that. If fact, I’ve come to realize that my own cat, Beauty Queen, is a reincarnated witch.”
Mercy jumped in. “You think Beauty Queen’s a witch? She’s certainly an in-your-face-cat and she talks enough, with that loud, obnoxious meow.”
“I thought about it after we visited the Petrov’s that day and figured out that she must be a witch. Even the way she attached herself to me was odd,” I added.
“Why? How did you come to have Beauty Queen?” Belinda inquired.
“Beauty Queen showed up at our old house in Colorado about a year ago. She actually climbed a tree outside my bedroom and scratched on the screen in the middle of the night. I remember I opened it and she came right in, strolled over to my bed, and curled up next to my pillow. She’s been sticking to me like glue ever since. At the time, I just thought she was just a very clever cat, but now I realize it’s more than that. Recently, I’ve even been communicating with Beauty Queen about simple things. She’ll respond to my questions with her loud meowing or she’ll poke at me with her claws. She’s acts like a cranky, overprotective grandma.”
Belinda asked, “How has Beauty Queen been behaving since you moved to Woodley?”
“She’s been nuts. She runs around my legs when I’m at home. She goes crazy any time I leave, jumping in front of me and meowing at the top of her lungs. When I’m hanging out at home, she won’t leave my lap. Sometimes, she even rides around hanging onto my shoulders. She didn’t act this possessive when we lived in Colorado,” I exclaimed.
Belinda asserted, “She knows that something’s up.”
“In fact,” I added, “Grandma Edwina has been complaining about the cats hanging around outside of our house and the racket they’ve been making. When I heard it last week, I realized that the howling has been going back and forth between Beauty Queen and those cats. I wish I knew what they were saying!”
“Mom, this is all rather interesting but it doesn’t address your assertion that those rats deliberately attacked Tessie,” Mercy proclaimed.
Belinda looked over at Mercy. “I guess we have gotten a bit off topic, although it’s all related. What I’ve always known is that bad witches will also reincarnate into other animals, especially such nasty creatures as rats.”
I had to sit there and think for a minute. What was she leading up to? Suddenly it hit me. “So, that’s why they were all after me!” I thought of something else even more repulsive. I looked at Belinda and Mercy, “Those rats aren’t done here. That’s why they’re flocking to Woodley and the surrounding towns. They want to finish what they’ve started.”
49. The Last Woman
“Tess, take another sip of tea and put the rats, cats, and all other troubles out of your mind. Sit back and think about one of your favorite and relaxing places for a few minutes.”
I thought about laying down in the hammock in our backyard, with a nice thick book on a beautiful day. Now THAT would be relaxing.
After a few minutes, Belinda quietly asked, “Are you ready, Tess?”
I picked up the tea cup a
nd took another sip and then I shifted around. “Yes,” I sighed, “anytime you are.”
Belinda stared into my eyes. “Take a deep breath, and as you exhale, close your eyes and feel yourself relaxing. OK, now, take another breath and slowly release it. Continue breathing, and with each breath feel your muscles become very loose and very limp.” As Belinda droned on, I could feel the familiar sense of relaxation seep into my bones, from my toes to the top of my head. I just wanted to sleep forever…
SNAP! I opened my eyes. I was back again, living a dream.
I could hear Belinda’s voice through a long tunnel. “Can you understand me, Tess?”
“Yes.”
“We will be going back further in your past, Tess, even more than before,” Belinda gently stated.
“I know,” I whispered.
“First, we’ll be talking about when you were born. Tessie, do you remember anything about your birth?”
I felt myself slip back, back through my life, through my childhood and babyhood, back to the floating. I finally responded, “I remember floating. I’m floating in the soft warmth, drifting. It’s peaceful, with the constant beating.”
“How did your birth go?” she prompted.
My throat started to tighten. I answered in a hoarse whisper, “Once the squeezing started, it never stopped. It just kept going and going. It hurt so much, and then my throat felt like it was blocked. Finally, I could see the big light but all I could think about was air. I needed air. I had to have air. I felt my heart beat faster and faster. Finally, the air came all at once. It hurt when the light came.” I was holding my throat with my hand, taking a deep breath.
“Tessie, I want you to go back, go back to before your birth, back through The Between, then the blackness and then the light. You have to go to your life before your time in Connecticut.”
I sat there and sensed my lives streaming by like a blurry movie reel. I went through a series of flashes between the white light and The Between and then the blackness. I finally awoke to an uneasy gray. I was immediately struck by the gloom, the human stench and my sense of terror. I was in a hellish place.
I sharply drew my breath in. My arms and shoulders were in great pain. I started to cry.
“What is it, Tess?”
“I am Gysel. They have tortured me! First, they tied my hands behind my back. Then they swung the rope over the beam and hung me there. It caused the bones in my shoulders to come apart from my body,” I moaned.
Belinda asked quietly, “Gysel, why would they do such a thing?”
I straightened my back and held my head up, though it pained me greatly. “It is the archbishop. He is the embodiment of evil here in Trier. He made me confess to worship of the devil AND to bringing the storm by the devil’s aid. Of course, that is not so! They also stripped me and used a needle to find the signs of the devil on my body. They wanted me to yield to them, to beg for their mercy upon my tainted soul.” I stared defiantly outward.
“What is going on there, Gysel?”
“It is the year of my death, 1592. We are here in ‘The Burning Times’ in Germany. I am the last of the women here. There are no more left.”
Belinda leaned in and asked, “What do you mean by ‘the last of the women’?”
“Why, there are some towns here with no women left! The women were imprisoned and tortured until they accused others. Then, the accused were taken and they did the same. It went round and round. Soon there was no one left to be accused. That is why I am the last woman of my village. I was the last to be accused. Who is there left for me to name? I will not name the children as some have.”
Belinda softly asked, “What is to become of you?”
“I proclaimed my innocence but it was to no avail. The archbishop made me endure the test by water. They dunked me and tried to drown me, but I did not drown. Therefore, I was declared a witch. They said I had to drown to prove that I did not consort with the devil!”
“They are here to take me to the pyre. It is the executioner and those who examine and judge that gain in riches and status in this place. The children of the condemned are sent away for their own survival, thus leaving any property to be confiscated by those who practice the tyranny of the devil, but cloak themselves in the sanctity of their law.”
Belinda softly asked, “What is next for you?”
“I have sight of what is to happen. I see a ladder made of sticks leaning against a large pile of wood. That will be my death bed. There are three more wood stacks just like it, all in a row. Four of us are to burn today.”
“Who are the others?”
“We were at the same trial. Oggard was a simpleton from my village. He accused me only to stop his torment. The other two are old hags that were ragpickers from the village of Cuchme. They got arrested because they dared to curse the Burgomaster. He claimed they were followers of Satan.”
Belinda started to ask another question but I stopped her. I grabbed her arm and held tight. “They have come to get us. They push us through the heavy door to a beautiful day. My eyes close as the sunshine pains them. I view the crowd of men who are eerily quiet. After all, I am the last woman. Is this what they desire? I have a past memory of their booing and jeering at these burnings. I notice that some cannot bring themselves to look me in the eye. Do they see how their godless ways have mocked them? I see the woodpile high above my head. They jab at my back so I struggle up the ladder and climb onto the platform. Oh, no!”
“What is it, Gysel?”
“It is Bruna, my cat. They said she was my familiar so she would also burn. They tied her to my stake. At least they broke her neck so she will feel no pain.”
“Gysel, you do not have to …. ,” Belinda implored.
“NO,” I scream. “I must know about this!”
I breathe in, breathe out, before continuing, “My bare feet scrape on the wood. The executioner pushes me against the pole and roughly pulls my hands behind it. He ties them back and wraps the rope around my waist and my ankles. I look up to get one last look at my world. I see the archbishop in purple staring at me in his glorious rapture. I see one of the courtroom judges next to him. That man has been silent but complicit. Something about him is very disturbing. The fire is lit. I see smoke swirl by me and I feel heat on my bare feet. I breathe in the smoke as hard as I can. As it thickens, I open my eyes one more time and see the judge still staring. My eyes stinging, feet burning, and those eyes, those eyes gleaming through the smoke …. Oh, my, God, I KNOW those eyes! I SEE him. I see in his soul. I know who he is!”
Belinda shouted, “Tessie! It is time to go back again as we discussed. You are done with this life. You must go back to the earlier time. You must pass the light and The Between, and then the darkness at least two times.”
The darkness descends upon me like a thick curtain, and then it transports me to the divine beauty of The Between. I want to stay there after the terrible fire but, no. I see the flashing between the darkness and the light until it slows. Then, the icy cold of the new light.
50. The First Apocalypse
I smell the sweet breezes of wet spring. I open my inner sight to the surroundings, damp woods and clusters of ragged people. We are together, shivering in the forest.
“What do you see?” asked Belinda through the sound tunnel.
“I am in a forest and for once I am surrounded by my own kind,” I answer softly.
She responded, “What do you mean by ‘own kind’?”
“They are witches like me,” I whisper. "I can feel it. They wear their magic like a bitter shroud. It has been weakened by their anguish. They need their magic to be strengthened.”
Belinda leaned in. “Why are they with you?”
“They have traveled far and wide to get here. I am known as Colette and I live in the Frankish village of Rodemack. They are from the countries of the continent and England. They are seeking their salvation, along with their revenge.” My eyes gleam at that.
“Why would the
y seek revenge?”
“We are living in very grave times. The year is 1320. We have just been through the Great Famine. There were two years of no summers, just eternal rain and damp. It was a bitter, cold winter and there was snow on the crops. We were unable to cure the hay so the animals could not feed. We could not even dry the salt.”
“That sounds terrible, but I still do not understand the part about revenge,” Belinda persisted.
How could she not understand? “After a time, all of the draft animals were eaten and then the planting seeds rotted. In order to survive, the villagers had to dig for roots and scrape the bark, and at that they still died of starvation by the thousands. Some people even left their little ones to die. When humans face such terrible calamities, they always blame the others.”
Belinda asked in a quiet tone, “Is that what they did, they blamed the good ones, the luminars?”
“Yes,” I answer, “and of course it was led by the devil witches, the diaboles.”
Suddenly, I felt a sharp crack. It was as if the cord that tied me to my 21st century reality snapped. I look around me. All that I see and hear is my life in this 14th century. The ragtag witches stare at me, as if waiting for me to speak to them, and so that is what I do. I find that the words flow naturally off my tongue. As I speak to them, I feel an overwhelming passion well up in me.
“It is your lords and masters,” I cry to them. “They are the greedy ones, the ones who continue to tax you and take what little you have. They have even stolen the last morsel of food from the mouths of your babes. THEN, to deflect from their gluttony, they blame us and they incite the commoners. The priests in their holy pulpits accuse us of all sorts of devilry. They say we are the cause of the great tempests, that we inflict injury on the work animals, and that we bring the pestilence to our neighbor’s fields. They even accuse us of blocking the sun, as if we could do such a thing.” I stare at them as I speak. Their hoods are concealing their eyes, but I know they are listening to me by their stillness and the tilt of their heads.
A Girl Beyond (War of the Witches Book 2) Page 25