“That’s right,” Tara continued. “You’ve got a family that loves you, you’ve got the same religion and lifestyle as Brent. You’re beautiful and have that accent…” Accent? Good grief, that may have been a bit much. She pressed on.
Tara turned back to look into Brent’s eyes. “I see how she looks at you. How you look at her.” She stopped. That’s all she would say until someone else spoke.
Brent broke eye contact and looked back at Marta. Both looked a little uncomfortable and neither denied a word of what Tara said.
Unexpectedly, it was Karen who spoke next. She stepped away from Marta and began to walk toward Tara. “Okay, let me get this straight. You had a conversation with Brent and told him that Marta basically told you to back off because she wants him. Is that right?”
Tara dropped her eyes and nodded.
“But there had to be more in order to keep Brent from bringing it up to Marta.”
Again, Tara nodded.
Tara could see Karen walk up to Brent’s left side and stop.
“Then, how did the secret get revealed?”
Tara looked up to see Karen looking at Brent, but it was Marta who answered. The anger in her voice softened a little bit, though there was still a tone of accusation. “Because he was acting weird all last week. Every time we were together he wouldn’t look me in the eyes or talk with me for any length of time. He wouldn’t tell me what was going on. So I finally dropped it… until tonight.”
That figures, thought Tara.
Karen turned back to Tara. “So it was all just a bunch of manipulation to try to get the upper hand with Brent?”
Tara could see Brent squirm. She wanted to smile, but diverted her look to see the seriousness in Karen’s eyes and answer her inquiry. She sighed. “Yes.”
“And you really thought it would work?”
“I thought it was the only chance I had against her.”
Marta walked up to Karen’s left side. Terry and Eric drew up behind them. Tara saw Eric put a hand on Brent’s shoulder as if to say, I’m impressed or maybe It’s going to be okay. It didn’t really matter to her. Despite the unexpected revealing of her ploy, this whole thing was taking a good direction. She wasn’t out of the dog house, but at least she was able to keep her cover.
Marta took another step forward. “You are an inconsiderate, lying, bitch.” It was stated matter-of-factly, without the volume and ranker of a few minutes ago.
Tara thought for a moment on how to handle this. She wanted to extend claws and go at it with this female, but choked it down and nodded. “You’re right,” she said in a whisper. Turning away, she nodded again, and then turned on the tears. “You’re right,” she agreed again, then convulsed into sobs.
She stood there gasping for air as pain wracked her chest. It actually scared her for a moment. It nearly felt like true sorrow. But what did she have to feel sorry about? Sorry about hurting Marta? Whatever. Brent? Lame. Karen? She fell to her knees.
Genuine sorrow pierced her soul.
No! Stop it!
Something wasn’t right.
Brent sat up in the tent. He looked to his left and right to see both Terry and Eric sleeping. He quietly unzipped his sleeping bag and removed the warm covering, instantly feeling the chill of the air’s dampness as it made contact with perspiration in his pant legs. He unzipped the netting, grabbed his hiking boots, and silently exited the tent.
Standing fully erect, he stretched his back, then ducked back into the tent to grab the sweatshirt he’d worn earlier that evening. He pulled it on over the long-sleeved T-shirt he wore to sleep.
Embers still glowed in the fire pit. He wondered if he could stoke a fire back to life. There was still a small pile of twigs and dry leaves that they had used to initially start their fire. They would also be used in the morning to create a cooking fire. Grabbing a handful, he placed them into the pit and softly blew on the embers below. The leaves caught, followed quickly by the twigs. Within a couple of minutes Brent had another small fire burning that worked to push back the chill.
Sitting on one of the logs surrounding the pit, he crossed his arms and looked up into the starlit night. It was beautiful and peaceful. But peace could not be found in his mind or spirit at the moment.
Something wasn’t right.
A realization struck Brent: While he had done his share of praying during this trip, he hadn’t done much seeking. Upon accepting his failed responsibility, he felt the prompting of the Holy Spirit to do just that.
He started to pray silently, but quickly noticed that his thoughts kept wandering. Getting off of the log, he took to his knees. He remembered his Mamaw saying that “Sometimes it’s the only way that prayin’ can get done right.” He smiled.
Since silent prayer wasn’t allowing him to focus, he took to praying out loud, in a soft enough voice as to not disturb the others.
He looked over at the girls’ tent. They were all in there, but they weren’t all liking it, to be sure. Karen was sleeping between two porcupines.
“Father, I love you.” It sounded so contrived in Brent’s ears. “I do, God. I really do love you. I wish there was some way to verbalize how true that is.” Then it dawned on him to begin praying and worshiping in the Spirit;1 worshiping in both spirit and in truth.
After several minutes of pressing deep into the presence of the Lord, he felt like he had reached a place of being able to interact with, rather than praying at, God. Now he would reach out for help.
“Lord, I feel like a fool. As I look back over the past several weeks, I realize that I’ve been living a life full of reaction instead of being prepared to respond. I’ve been more than willing to pray to you, but I haven’t been willing to enter into your throne room where you tell us to come with boldness. I’ve been too content to just stand outside and shout into where you are. Where’s the intimacy in that? Father, thank you for your constant grace. I’m amazed at your continued willingness to put up with me.”
Brent smiled. He knew that God’s grace existed because of his perfect love. Grace wouldn’t be hard to understand at all if we could first grasp the full height, depth, and breadth of his love. But that was just it… no one would ever completely grasp that.
He continued. “Father, tonight I felt like an idiot, because I hadn’t seen how I’d been manipulated by Tara. But the truth is that I feel like a little boy around her. I never feel stable or feel like I’m strong when she’s near. I feel like a hormonal dork.”
Brent had a flashback to high school and Galen Todd. He then had another flashback to the spiritual incident at the Great Oak on campus.
“Yes, Lord. I get it. I was spiritually prepared for both of those encounters. I had been spending time in your presence so much that I didn’t react, I responded.” Brent paused, then continued, “Father, get me back to that place. I need to have stable ground to walk on again. I don’t want to look like a moron anymore. I want to walk in confidence again, because of how close you and I are together.”
Brent thought about how things would be in the morning when everyone awakened. He was going to need to take on the role of a man again, particularly when it came to Tara. He’d have to talk with Marta, as well.
“Father, you said in the Book of James to ask for wisdom and you’d give a bountiful supply. Well, I’m asking. Help me know how to deal with this situation correctly.
“Another thing, Lord, is Tara’s salvation. I think that if she had a relationship with you she wouldn’t have done what she did.” Brent felt a pang of conviction from the Spirit. “Sorry. It’s not about her and me. It’s about her and you.”
Brent thought back to how many opportunities he and Marta, and others, had had to speak the truth to her about Jesus, but she just wouldn’t commit.
“God, she’s fighting your Spirit. She’s fighting to keep her independence. But, God, she doesn’t understand that she’s being used. That she’s the one being manipulated. Father, I know you love her. Help her to see her ne
ed. Release her from the Enemy’s snare. In Jesus’ name I pray!
“I don’t know why she’s holding back. I don’t know what the Enemy is offering, but you do! Bring the Enemy’s plans to nothing! In the name of Jesus I pray!”
Brent thought things through one more time, listening in his spirit for further prompting to pray, but all he felt was peace.
“Amen, Lord. So be it.”
And with that Brent stood back up, took another look up at the blanket of stars above him, and went back to the tent for some needed sleep.
WHILE SHE COULDN’T make out his words, Tara could hear Brent outside by the fire pit. She knew he was praying to his God. But soon he would go back to his tent, then it would be her turn to “pray.”
Several minutes went by and she finally heard him quietly unzipping and re-zipping the screened tent flap. She’d wait several more minutes before making her own exodus. She also needed to make sure that neither Marta nor Karen would stir.
After twenty minutes, she quietly exited the tent. Her special satchel in hand, she made her way out of the camp site and up the hill to where the gravel road intersected with the main trail.
No one would be roaming the trails this late, she suspected. They had shared campsite three, and last night, campsite five, with a few other campers. Tonight, though, campsite eight was theirs alone. Add to that the late hour and she should have the freedom to do what she willed.
Kneeling on the ground she opened the satchel. She pulled from it her pentagram casting cloth, the hag-stone amulet, her pentagram necklace, and her ritual circle mat. After spreading the mat—her rings of protection—she settled within the concentric circles. She spoke an incantation for protection and then unrolled her ritual pentagram. The night was a bit too breezy for candles, so she had not withdrawn them from the bag. Not ideal, she thought, but it’s not the first time I’ve cast spells without them.
She kissed the chromed pentagram and decided to hold it rather than wear it this time. She would use it to concentrate with rather than the candles. Placing her amulet in the center of the pentagram casting cloth, she reached into her satchel one last time and withdrew her grimoire. Tonight she would make all of the campers feel her power.
She searched the pages of her spell book for perfect retribution.
She smiled.
KAREN SHIVERED. FOLLOWING Tara out of the tent meant not waking Marta. And that meant not being able to grab the sweater in the corner near Marta’s head. She hardly noticed the cold at this point anyway, because of what she saw before her in the moonlight. It caused her blood to boil.
Getting close to Tara had put all of her stealthiness to the test. She was close enough to see most of what Tara had pulled out of her bag. She couldn’t tell what her amulet was, but saw her place it in the middle of the pentagram that would be used for spellcasting.
She was also close enough to hear.
“By the powers of the blackest night,
I speak that which is vile and spite.
Merge with me my spirit guide,
and let no power in you hide.
Shalinar. Shalinar. Shalinar.
I call thee forth, my medium to come,
as I spellcast tonight bring me power,
Otherealm from.”
As Karen watched Tara extend her arms heavenward, eyes closed, bathed in moonlight, she knew that she couldn’t just be a spectator during this evil moment of beckoning. She, too, had to act. But how? Confront her?
No. She instantly knew this wasn’t the time or the place. Instead she would do warfare. She would make sure that whatever Tara meant for evil would not be allowed to flourish.
“Father,” Karen whispered, “I ask for your protection. Put a hedge around me that the Enemy may not penetrate. Cover me with the blood of the Lamb.
“I come against the evil spirits being conjured now, in the name of Jesus. I bind them by the power and authority of the name and blood of Christ Jesus! You will not speak, for I muzzle you in the name of Jesus Christ.
Karen transitioned from warfare to prayer so that she would have wisdom in dealing with the situation unfolding before her. “Father, I want to lash out at Tara. She is attempting to come against all of us with satanic power. There is hate in her. It makes me want to lash out against her, but I know that you love her in the same way that you loved me in my pre-Christ days, and I know that you’ve got a plan. Help me to walk in it. Your will be done. In the name of Jesus I pray. Amen.”
With the knowledge that she had utilized the authority that God gives all believers, she decided that there was no good reason to watch further Tara’s perversion of prayer. Ever so slowly and quietly Karen backed away from the site of Tara’s rituals even as she continued calling on spirits to come and recognize and obey her summons. Karen, too, kept praying. Her prayers became all the more intense the further away from Tara she got.
Arriving at the camp site, she stood near the fire pit and called on God to fight on their behalves. Facing the two tents she raised her hands; left hand toward the men’s tent and right toward Marta’s and her own.
“Father, I speak a hedge of protection around these tents. I plead the blood of Jesus over Terry, Eric, Brent, Marta, and myself. Protect us, Lord, under your sheltering wings. I pray that you, O God, will dispatch angels to protect us from the hands of the Enemy as we sleep tonight. In Jesus’ holy, powerful, precious name I pray. Amen.”
Knowing that Tara could come back at any moment, she thanked the Lord for his love and acknowledged his sovereignty over the situation, then she crawled back into the tent.
As she began to settle into her sleeping bag, Marta murmured, “Everything okay?”
“We’re under God’s sheltering wing, Marta. Everything’s fine.”
Karen did not know if Marta heard her or not. Marta’s deep breathing indicated that she’d already fallen back to sleep.
Ten minutes later Tara quietly snuck back into the tent.
“Everything okay?” Karen whispered. She heard a slight startled gasp.
“Uh, yeah,” came the response. “Just needed some fresh air and the bathroom.”
“Goodnight, Tara.”
“Goodnight, Karen.”
TARA LAY AWAKE. This trip hadn’t gone as she had planned. She had yet to trip up Brent, at least not to the degree to where his “little light” didn’t still shine. It appeared that he and Marta were drawing close. And Shalinar hadn’t made his presence known to her the entire trip. She could only hope that her spellcasting would produce results throughout the course of the night.
On top of everything else, she was exhausted, just like the rest of them. Mingle that with her frustration, and she didn’t know if she had it in her for another flirtatious presentation to Brent. Besides, the prior morning, he had made sure that Eric, Terry, and he had all gone to the shower area together to allow the girls to have some of their own “morning time.”
Then there was Karen. The girl she wanted to hate, but couldn’t. Karen had taken a genuine interest in her. Why? It’s not like they knew each other. It’s not like they had really gotten into deep conversation about anything. Well, nothing lengthy, anyway.
Even this evening’s confrontation by Karen was handled with respect. Respect. She had been accorded respect when she deserved none.
Tara sighed softly. In her innermost being she knew what it was… Karen just liked her. No pretense. No expectations. No demands.
It’s like she really wants to be my friend.
How long had it been since she’d had a real friend; a girlfriend to just be a girl with?
Not since daddy…
Tears welled up; one spilled from her right eye, traveled over the crest of her nose, and down her left cheekbone to soak into her small camping pillow. She sniffled.
She heard Karen rustle behind her. It sounded as though she may just have lifted her head to listen. Becoming as motionless and quiet as possible, brought the desired result. She heard Karen adjust her pi
llow and lay her head back down.
Another undesired moment of introspection flooded her mind and heart.
Daddy… Another sniffle, this time followed by a hard breath. I love you and hate you at the same time. Why did you have to leave me?
Why wasn’t I worth staying alive for?
Tara felt a warm hand touch her right shoulder. Karen gave a slight squeeze.
Tara quietly wept.
1 Go to Appendix B to read more about “Praying in the Spirit”
The sun was already warming the campsite when the campers became active. Marta was glad that they would be on the road home that afternoon. She was extremely glad that she and Tara wouldn’t be in the same vehicle.
Twice this morning Marta had the opportunity to glare at Tara. But it seemed like any fight that Tara might have had in her the night before had gone out of her. She just looked … tired.
All the better, she thought.
She ducked back into the tent and grabbed some clean—well, cleaner—clothes and headed to the shower. Her impatience for this trip to end drove her to be the first ready to depart the campsite.
She started to walk to the shower when she heard someone jog up behind her.
“Wait up!”
It was Karen.
Marta stopped and turned. As Karen approached, she could see Tara give a quick glance over to them as she ducked inside the tent.
“How about some company?” asked Karen.
“I don’t think I’d be good company.”
“None the less, let me grab a change of clothes, too. I’ll be right back.”
Marta stood and waited. She watched the guys as they sat near the opening of their tent, putting on their boots. She imagined that they would start breaking down camp while she and Karen took their showers. Eric looked up and saw her. He smiled and gave a slight wave.
Marta gave as pleasant a smile as she could muster and turned her eyes toward her tent. Moments later Karen emerged with a wad of clothing in one hand and shampoo, soap, and a towel in the other.
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