About
Will fate reunite an immortal Watcher and a Witch in time to right a wrong and save the world from dark magic?
Kamillia, an author of paranormal romance, is accused of being an actual witch by an ambitious group of businessmen with a dark agenda. A man who resembles one of her fictional characters, an alpha male hero, randomly appears at her door offering her protection.
Luca is an immortal Watcher from the River of Light. Sent to Earth to help Kamillia, whose true heritage has yet to be revealed to her, Luca is caught off guard by the fighting spirit of the woman and the way his human body betrays him while in her presence.
When Kamillia is attacked, and all the lies she’s been told come to light, she and Luca are forced to join together. Despite numerous obstacles, they need to overcome the evil of many centuries blocking a portal under a mysterious church on the edge of town.
On Halloween night, she will have to face her past—as in a past life—in a big way. Only then can she return to what is left of her life, with or without this stranger who has captured her heart but cannot share her future.
Prologue
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Shores of Pickering Wharf
Salem, MA
Week of Halloween
The hefty breeze pushed the small, blue, rolling waves into white, jagged peaks with the same urgency he felt inside as he sat gazing out upon the vastness of the water. Leaning against a weathered retaining wall with an audible sigh, Luca glanced behind him at the blue-gray haze over the small town cityscape silhouette. The pollution, a mixture of smoke and sky, presented itself as an omen of great significance to him. He knew the buildings, along with some of the houses beyond, already held within them the inhabitants he’d both come to protect and come to battle. In his five hundred years as a Watcher, the energy of the Earth had changed, negatively affecting the human condition.
He viewed their existence from his realm on a daily basis, a place just beyond this one, a small segment of space that served as a window to the world. From his perch there, each city had its own fundamental haze blurring its buildings and beings. This mystical force field, referred to as The River of Light, or simply The River by Watchers such as Luca, formed an energy grid covering the earth. The grid could be seen as a matrix of light, sound, and colors forming geometric patterns around the planet. Humans had attempted to observe such patterns in the study of Sacred Geometry, but the immortal Watchers watched over and recorded the changing spiritual energies of history from their posts at The River. Ever shifting, the ebbs and flows of the negative and positive life energy swirled and moved over the varied landscapes of the Earth much like waterways. Therefore, it was critical for him to witness when certain changes emerged, what energy the events causing the changes added to the collective conscious of the world, and how the energy impacted the flow of The River. Recently, this city in the northeastern part of the United States had grown darker and darker until it choked under a bout of polluted smog-like energies. To give an ironic but truthful view of history, this was the first time Salem, Massachusetts had looked this bad. Even then, the frenzy of the only spiritual pollution inspired by the hunters during the witch hunts hadn’t darkened things to this extent. The residual energy that lingered here had been built upon since and currently required his intervention.
On Earth, back in true human form, a Watcher could see through this haze to the true souls of the people revealed to him in the colors of their auras. Both systems simply mirrored each other. Just as the human body had a meridian system with vital life force energy flowing through it, the world had a similar system of passageways through which the collective life force flowed. They not only mirrored each other, but affected each other, too. On the astral plane, the integral energy of human thoughts, words, and deeds combined into the mystical force field he kept watch over. Although he’d been sent to Earth many times before, a greater sense of foreboding gripped him this time. The places where the lines of the energy grid intersected and channeled to the earth had become blocked at alarming rates here these last few days, warning of impending danger. At portals such these, the energy proved stronger in its effects on the surrounding area.
Luca felt Ahti, the Watcher who’d called him from his post, approach with a peace so strong it preceded him even as he crossed realms. He knew the moment to begin his next assignment arrived with the sound of grains of sand rubbing together, large feet pushing the granules aside with each step. A large shadow covered over the thin line of debris-filled foam along the shore. Ahti spoke to Luca in an oddly comforting voice for the exigency of his message.
“It is time, Luca. It has begun to worsen here beyond what we’d anticipated. The River of Light is polluted greatly over this region. The black forces, which some ignorantly mess with, have charged the air with a significant amount of negativity. It darkened just this morning, causing the ripple effect to the flow at this portal greater than we’d initially feared. I’ve granted humanness to many of the immortal watchers like you this time. You each know the job you have to do to help the human you’ve been assigned to. You know what is at stake. She’s soon going to be at an inevitable crossroad, and her decisions will have a major impact on The River. Such is the human condition these days, I often feel the fate of the world is being decided with each mission.”
“Yes, Ahti, I will do my best to help to clear the portal here,” Luca assured the Watcher.
“I’m afraid this mission will not be so simple. Sometimes Watchers are called for anomalous reasons. Depending on why a Watcher was called in the first place, these exclusive missions, deviating from the norm, can be much more involved than they usually are. So, you'll need to follow the signs without questioning them. You are a Watcher with great powers, but you also have been matched to Kamillia for unique reasons not yet revealed. Trust, Luca. You understand why it has to be so. I cannot explain any further at the present, though, without jeopardizing your part in the whole.”
“She is still unaware of her heritage, sir?”
“Very much so. The history you were given of your charge when summoned was very much up-to-date despite the haste of its delivery. You know Kamillia has been back in her hometown now for over a year. The first threats toward her by the Mastema began a few weeks ago. Yet, Kamillia is a strong woman, despite being unaware of all she is. The Mastema have been playing with spells of black magic they do not truly understand. With their frail human knowledge, they do not realize their actions are slowly condemning the world. The men lust for power and material possessions and, in their ignorance, have succumbed to any means necessary to obtain such things. The Mastema have become mere pawns to the evil they have played with. The demons rule the men now. Therefore the portal here has darkened. The nature of the depravity they have invoked goes beyond what we have seen in centuries. The negative energy of their thoughts and actions greatly interrupts the flow of The River. If cleared, their so-called powers will be gone as the demons and dark energy cultivates for centuries will be forced out.”
Luca turned to look at the Watcher, whom he trusted enough to do whatever was asked of him with blind faith in the protector’s wisdom. A smirk marred his features as a fleeting thought occurred to him: for one so great and wise, the man in front of him looked the part. Watchers were all stuck at the age their lives had ended on Earth. Ahti had reached a wise old seventy-nine when he was granted his immortality, so he appeared like the mage he was with his long beard comprised of scraggly gray hairs. The elder served a bigger role among them as messenger and guide. Unlike him, Luca’s final life had been cut short, making him an eternal twenty-five. He had no memories of his time alive. Like all Watchers, his past lives had been erased. Along the same reasoning, he was not allowed the knowledge as to why he had been chosen.
The sky behind the formidable figure of Ahti lurked with unnatural shades of
jade and agate, creating an ominous darkness resembling the coming of a storm.
“What is with the sky?”
Ahti turned so rapidly, his cloak of white rippled like the white caps on the angry water. “I do not know. Go. Now!”
Chapter One
Luca paused on the road in front of Kamillia’s home just a few streets away from the wharf,. He looked down over the fully human body he had to deal with on his visits here.
The clothing of this age bound and restricted him in ways no other centuries fashion ever had. The denim pulled tight, abrasive over his muscles and anatomy at odd junctures of his lower frame. The white t-shirt, sporting the image of a black guitar wrapped in roses yet sporting a skull in complete contrast, seemed ridiculous in appearance and in fit. He tugged at the cotton hugging his chest, so different from the robes he wore when he was posted at The River. Yet, he had to fit into this day and age. A small sacrifice, he mused, even as the jeans bunched in the creases over his manly parts. He groaned deep in his throat, wanting to rip the evil, offending cloth from his loins.
“Don’t let it get to you,” he chided himself. “Clothing is not important enough to risk adding more negative energy to this place.”
It was always a challenge to keep his positive energy flowing when on Earth. At his post, negative energy could barely survive so close to the Source of all life.
He took an extra-long stride, attempting to dislodge the bunch of material cruelly gripping his balls without looking too much the fool.
“It is no wonder the humans can be such an unhappy lot. People may claim the Western mindset is the downfall of society, but I think it is the damn denim!”
He followed the black asphalt driveway around to the back of her house, creeping steadily closer to the window covered with thin, lacy curtains thorough which he could observe the shadow of her form bent over her laptop. He sucked in a deep breath, and then grunted at the stuffiness of the atmosphere here, so thick with the negativity that was their concern at The River. With mankind determining how it flowed, the adverse constitution of it weighed heavy on the air. Here, the words and deeds of a few were so detrimental and antagonistic they were consuming the stream of consciousness of the rest.
His gaze flashed up again at the menacing sky. He could see more than just a storm brewing. All around him in these houses, in such a beautiful affluent neighborhood, materialism stood its ground right beside despair, making contentment cower in fear in the dark recesses of this city of gloom. Elusive happiness sought in shady ways bred anxiety, and thus the land had become burdened by ego-centered selfishness. He reminded himself it was not so everywhere, nor was it even so in every one of these houses. Yet, in the hearts of those who had greed and fame as their only true desires, unconditional love and compassion were foreign concepts, misunderstood and purposeless.
His lungs tightened, and the odd, light sensation in his head reminded him to mind this body's limitations. When he was brought to earth as a human, he retained his powers to manipulate the energies to help with healing, but he could also be hindered like any natural man by the need to breathe and feed. He stomped forward two steps before stopping again. He attempted another deep breath. A flush of heat trailed across his neck before consuming the rest of his body. He had been in places as marred as this one before, but never had he experienced a foreboding reluctance to move forward. With one glance back toward the shadow in the window, he took the rest of his steps swift and sure.
Knocking on the door proved a task, given the Halloween decoration of a witch, he crashed against, covering it with his fist. Halloween soon approached. Days away. October in Salem brought so many that the sheer numbers alone, no matter what their frame of mind, would not help the energy situation they had going on here. He forced all thoughts of this from his mind, clearing it for the task at hand, bracing himself for the smooth talking he would have to do to convince this woman to let him escort her to her grandfather’s house. Most of the time, Watchers were sent in posing as one new to town in order to befriend their charge. This time, though, his summons carried an urgency to get this woman to safety, putting a crimp in the usual trust building part of the mission. Peering through a small window beside the door, he could see through the kitchen into the room she worked in. As he watched her get up slowly while still moving her hands frantically over the raised white letters of the keyboard, he reviewed what he had been told of her.
Although she had found part of her gift on her own, she had been kept in the dark about her true heritage just as her father had insisted on his deathbed. Her knowing she was a witch with the ability to harness the same energies as him would have made his job a lot easier today. To add injury to insult, Kamillia had kept her mind-reading powers a secret from the grandparents who had raised her, and everyone else in her life, thinking she would be viewed as insane. Then, to maintain her own sanity, she had used her inhuman ability to make quite a career for herself as a writer.
Opening the door at his insistent tapping, she stood in full view, one hip pushed to the side, biting the side of her bottom lip, her eyebrows raised. He’d obviously disturbed her so that should make this all go more smoothly for him. Not.
Her hair fell in midnight blue-black waves over her shoulders, matching the striking intensity of her emerald eyes. A flush graced her face and neck, her grimace softening despite the biting whip of the chilled wind past the door. He had not anticipated this body betraying him the way it was in reaction to her up close and in full color, forcing him to actually wonder if he knew her, if they’d met before. His heart pumped faster, reverberating in his chest, although he felt no anxiety or fear. He felt an intense physical pull, as if their bodies were already acquainted, and needed to be together again. Her smell proved comforting and arousing. The strength of their combined energies baffled him. He had been doing this job for several hundred years, and never had he experienced such an insane reaction to a charge.
“Yes,” she said, her tone carried a sharp pitch, irritation flowing freely in waves.
Her reaction left him frantically searching his mind for something to say. Any word would do. He would have taken any one in the dictionary at this point of panic. He'd never been one at a loss for words.
“Do you want something? Do I know you? You look familiar, but I can’t place you.” She pulled her brows together, and cocked her head.
That she may feel the same way as him, as if they knew each other, seemed strange, confusing him further. They were from two different eras of time, and from two different realms of the world. The possibility was simply not logical.
“No, you don’t know me.” He felt his own brows furrow and his jaw tense as the words finally released from his brain, so he made a conscious effort to relax the muscles in his face, concentrating on being grateful the words had made a lick of sense. “This may sound odd, but I beg of you, although you do not know me, to please at least listen to what I have to say.”
“I will. My Poppie already called to tell me you would be coming. I have been instructed to listen to you, to let you escort me to his house for my own protection. I trust him with my life, and cannot refuse the old man anything. He claims you are a dear old friend whom he would trust with his life, though oddly I have never once heard of you before. But, I wasn’t always with him growing up. Anyway, so, I guess, come on in.” She waved him in with what he perceived as a light, forced laugh.
Only, Luca didn’t move. “Poppie?” The name sounded like it should have come from the mouth of a small child with her hair in pigtails instead of the sensuous, provocative woman standing before him. She exuded self-confidence and strength of character, displayed in the assured stance of the tight curves before him.
“Yes, Poppie is what I have called my grandfather since I can remember, and I do not intend to change his name now for some smart-assed stranger who would dare to judge me on such a thing. My Poppie always told me never to be afraid to piss off an asshole. So, if you wish to be one, it w
ill not change the fact that I speak as I wish.”
Pursing his lips together to keep his jaw from dropping to the floor, he finally brushed past her. “My apologies, I had just never heard the name before. I meant nothing by my insensitive question of it.” He suffered an urge to cross his arm over his middle and bow slightly to her dominance, but luckily he remembered what century he was in and stiffened his back to an upright position, suppressing the instinctual response.
Ahti had neglected to emphasize the true fighting spirit of the woman, as he had neglected to tell him his way in was going to be paved by her grandfather. He wondered now who the old man had said Luca was, and how Ahti could have forgotten to give him such a detail. Did something go wrong and plans had to be changed already? He turned to catch one last glimpse at the darkening sky before she closed the door. He worried his time was already more limited than he’d been told.
“So, your name is?” she inquired.
“Luca, your grandfather didn’t tell you my name?”
“No, he did. I was just double-checking. Wanted to make sure you were the one he spoke of before I went for my gun to get you out of my house. Guess, in retrospect, I should have done that first.” She laughed at her own twisted humor, flooring him once again by the wit and spunk of the woman. “For a man with an important message for me, you sure don’t talk much. Come, sit.”
The feather light touch of her hand on his arm triggered an uncomfortable reaction as the ridiculous jeans he had to wear stretched over the increase of the bulge in his pants. He closed his eyes and mentally shook his head to clear it. No one silences me, especially not some fantasy writer of the twenty-first century who writes of things that are truer than she believes.. And come on! What is up with this body, the sound of her voice, the smell of her hair…
A Cursed All Hallows' Eve Page 152