by Reece Butler
She stared at the floor with half-closed eyes, seeing nothing, feeling nothing but anger. Fury. Rage! Anger at the man who’d created her and treated her mother so badly. Anger at how hard her mother had to work because she’d believed two men who promised to love and care for her. Anger that she’d fallen into the same, though more comfortable, trap when she married. Anger at having to act like Ted’s puppet, being only what he said she could be. A nothing, useful for a time but simple to destroy when she became an inconvenience.
The thought of releasing her anger frightened her, but she could not keep it back. Too many memories of black shame and red humiliation boiled in her cauldron of rage. She’d forced these memories deep for too many years. Pretending to be serene when her stomach curled with the insults, the rejection, the shame.
Now that they were released, she had to expel them. But how? She began to tremble, then shake. Hands slid around her from behind. Cool ones. Lance’s scent flowed into her nostrils, was absorbed by her skin.
“You said you wouldn’t touch me again,” she blurted.
“I can’t ignore your pain, my love. Let them go. You don’t need those memories anymore.” His soothing voice called to the anger swirling in the deepest part of her soul. He loved her but was he was strong enough to protect her from her memories? Red boiled with black, carving into a dual-colored column that existed only in her mind.
All those times she wanted to fight back but kept quiet to be accepted, yet was excluded. How she’d gone along with others, put her own needs and desires last, yet had been invisible. She’d done it for so long she no longer knew what she wanted, other than a home where she was loved and accepted for who she was.
The red-and-black column inside her gained height as it churned faster and faster. Her panic grew, adding fuel to create a tornado. Red fire leaped from oily black clouds, higher and higher. Would she explode like an ill-fired pot, her flesh shattering?
“Use my strength and power as a shield, my love. You can’t harm me. Fight me if you need to. I will protect you, even from yourself.”
She focused on the calm, confident voice.
“Embrace your anger and rage, Marci. Don’t hold back or fear it. Anger is healthy, a natural part of you. But it’s time to let the rest go. Let your anger erupt and drive out the shame and humiliation. That is not who you are, my love. You are a woman, all beauty and life and laughter. Let the rest go. You are safe. I will always be here for you. I will hold you. Let it go.”
She squirmed, unable to stay still as the illusion of a tornado made of fire stormed in her body. Her pores erupted in oily sweat. She coughed as the oil burst into smoke once free of her body. It had the stench of brimstone from dreams shattered and hopes exterminated.
Ted’s face appeared in the flames, laughing and cackling. Flames! She was surrounded by fire! The tornado of emotion, a creation of a life near destroyed through denial of her rightful self, exploded. She screamed, flailing and kicking, knowing nothing but the need to expel it from her body or perish!
She screamed at the hot stink oozing through her pores, scorching her skin.
“That’s it,” crooned a deep voice. Lance. She saw him as a green strand, vivid against the red and black. She mentally reached out and clung to him like a lifeline to sanity.
“You’re a strong warrior, Marci. There’s no place in your life for these doubts and fears. Let them go. Let them all go.”
His words swept over her burning skin like chilled aloe.
“I feel it rising it you, Marci. Don’t fight its release. You are in control, and I have you safe. Expel all those ugly memories from your body. They’ll fade once they’re gone.”
“It hurts!” she cried, shaking her head and shuddering.
“Yes, love, it hurts. But not as much as holding it in. Look deep inside, Marci. See that clean, white light at the bottom of the firestorm?”
She looked within herself. Down through the eye of the swirling hateful mass. A bright light sparkled like crystal in a brightly lit jewelry store.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I see it.”
“Call on it to help you,” said the soothing voice. “Help the bright light push it from your body forever.”
“What is the light?”
“It’s your soul, Marci. Your pure, untarnished soul. Whatever you’ve done in this life has not been wrong. No matter what has happened, your soul remains pure. You are part of that light. Bring it forth and it will banish whatever holds you from being true to yourself.”
She looked down again. The center of the tornado was wider now, the black-and-red walls thinner. She did as he asked and called to the light. It shone brighter, as if delighting in her knowledge of it. Her skin still burned, but it was pure, cleansing the fire and smoke. The pain was like birth, necessary but instantly forgotten with the joy of life.
As the fire within began to ease, tears coursed down her cheeks.
“It’s working,” she whispered. She concentrated to force the ugliness out of her mind, through her body, and away. The light helped, growing, now swirling. The dark fought to escape her, chased by sparkles of the light. As the storm faded, bright white light took its place. It joyfully swirled within her, filling her whole body with diamond-bright sparkles.
It felt like peace and love and acceptance.
The last particles of dark winked out, banished forever. A cool breeze flowed through her mind, like a spring wind filled with flowers and sunshine. It blew away the last few ashes. A sense of peace followed the breeze. It settled, filling all the holes that had held nightmares, fears, and shame.
She inhaled, shuddering as fresh air filled her lungs. When she exhaled, all her tension was released. Her head lolled back on Lance’s shoulder, exhausted yet exhilarated. She concentrated on the heartbeat in the strong chest behind her back. It was slow and steady, calm and controlled.
“You did well, my love,” he murmured. He held her in his warm embrace, safe and protected. “I will help the light keep you safe, little one.”
She relished the waves of energy flowing from him. Waves of protection and pride and love. She didn’t know how long she rested, only that she felt refreshed and alive when she finally looked up at his dark face and ice-blue eyes.
The ice melted to resemble Simon’s familiar warmth. A new storm swirled within her, one with a different type of heat. Her heart sped up and her nipples peaked. Lance’s eyes widened as he smiled in appreciation. She felt it in her whole body.
“Feel better?” She nodded and reached out her hand to touch his shoulder. He bent his head. Rough lips caressed her cheek. “That’s it, little one,” he murmured. “Accept that I will never cause you harm.”
She nodded, scraping her hair against his chest. A sense of contentment enveloped her. She was safe within the arms of a man who could, and would, protect her. If he could bring her through that, saving her soul, she could trust him with her life.
“You belong to me and to Simon,” he continued quietly. “Just as we belong to you. But first, you belong to yourself.”
He held her, unmoving, as she thought on his words.
She’d never thought of that before, of belonging to herself. It gave her a sense of purpose and power, one that eclipsed his demands. She didn’t mind so much that Lance said she belonged to them, when he also said the reverse was true.
It was the same with Nikki. They were each individuals, but as sisters they were part of each other. Nothing could change the fact they were family.
“Each of us belongs to ourselves,” she said. “But we also belong to each other.”
His smile touched her. The heat of it curled her toes. She opened her mouth to get enough air, having to pant as her heart beat ever faster.
“If you choose to marry us, you will agree that I am in control. His lips caressed a line of fire down her neck. He nuzzled her hair as the hand on her shoulder moved around to her left breast. It enveloped her, the energy sinking from his hands, through her br
east, and into her heart and soul.
“As our woman,” he continued in the same soft, commanding manner, “you will be cherished and respected for what you share with us.” He exhaled. Hot, moist air flowed between her heated breasts. “We want you to join your life force with ours. To mesh your thread with ours in an unbreakable bond. I am the power, which Simon sustains. But you, Marci, are the spark that sets us afire. And without that spark, there is no life.”
He placed his hands, fingers spread wide, on her belly. It was as if he was cherishing what she’d only just realized could be growing there. She found her hands sliding over his. Simon moved behind Lance and placed his hands on hers. For a moment she felt a flicker of connection, as if an unknown type of energy had enfolded them.
Then Simon stepped away, and Lance released her. Suddenly she was cold. Cold and alone. But it only lasted a second before the touch of energy spread throughout her body, warming her in a cocoon of compassion and wonder as insubstantial as a spider web, and as indestructible as time.
“What you are feeling is love, Marci,” said Lance. “Our love. We want you, Marci. But it’s your choice. Can you accept it?”
Another chaste kiss brushed her cheek.
“Sleep, Marci, and dream. Let me hold you.”
A sense of lethargy flowed through her veins. Suddenly she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She relaxed, letting Lance keep her safe.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Marci sleeping?”
Lance nodded to Simon as he padded across the kitchen to the fridge. He opened the door, once again delighting to find it full. His stomach growled in eagerness. The spirits had sent a good woman to them. Marci obviously enjoyed creating a comfortable, welcoming home. The fridge had been well scrubbed. Even the stain from before he left had been removed.
“Good.” Simon rested his cast on a pillow as he leafed through one of the old journals.
Lance grabbed the carton of orange juice, opened it, and poured it down his throat. He could almost feel his cells expanding as the energy was absorbed. Headwork, as he called what he’d done with Marci, took a lot out of everyone involved.
“Marci will need to drink a lot to flush her body from all that crap.” Lance wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. “Did you pick up any of it?”
“You know I’m no good at that,” replied Simon with a frown. “I felt heat and a touch of something almost evil escaping, but that was all.”
“She saw it as flames and oily black smoke swirling around inside her. And it wasn’t escaping, she was shoving it out.” Lance put the almost empty juice carton back and rummaged around for sandwich fixings. “She’s a powerful woman, or will be once she believes in herself.”
“So’s her sister.” Simon sighed. “She and Nikki have no other family. “Did you see her face during that pillow fight?” Simon glanced out the window. “She looked so alive, laughing as she walloped Nikki. I want her to be that happy most of the time.”
“She’s a complicated woman. She needs both of us.”
“I don’t understand why most men want to keep a woman to themselves rather than share their loving of her,” said Simon absently. He went back to looking at his journal. Whether his brother was reading or not, Lance could tell he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. So did Lance.
He stepped out into the chilly night. He stopped on the porch to kick off his boots and socks before stepping out onto the ground. The dirt was cold, but he needed the direct physical contact with the earth that sustained him, and therefore his family.
A quiet quork welcomed him, warning of the raven’s presence before it landed on his left shoulder. It trilled as he scratched its head, then returned the gesture by nibbling the hair above his ear with its beak. He saw a vision of Marci, lying on her back in the dirt, offering one of her long hairs. That was his woman, all right. She’d accepted his guides without fear. She would not reject her child even if its spirit ran deep.
Another heavy link of chain from his past dropped away.
He called the Light to him, letting it flow through and take the pain he no longer needed to hold. His grandfathers would be welcomed when they visited. They would bless Marci’s daughters and sons. All of them, no matter what color their skin.
The raven gripped his shoulder as he walked farther into the yard. Mountains cut off everything but the lights from the town of Climax which glowed in the east. He turned to the west and looked up. Stars glittered above the mountain’s jagged edges. Like the ravens, they were familiar, old friends which had guided him all his life.
Lance spread his arms, leaned his head back, and inhaled. His People had lived here for thousands of years and, though the line grew fainter with each generation, he still felt his roots. Energy flowed through him, up from the mantle of the Earth to a place far, far above, then descended in a perpetual cycle. He let it renew him, cleansing his cells and restoring his balance.
He sent thanks for bringing Marci into their lives. She was a good woman with depths of strength she’d only begun to tap. They would help her heal, as she would help them. Her new family and friends would protect, support, and provide for her. He saw them as ripples, like those extending from a pebble dropped in a still pond.
Marci was the pebble, the center of their lives.
He and Simon were the ripple closest to her, along with their children. Nikki was next. Since they got along so well, Donny, Keith, and Aggie followed. Marci would create other ripples, composed of neighbors and friends, as she reached out to give, and receive.
Though his mother made it clear she didn’t want him, Lance had still grown up with much support. He had Simon, of course, and his Bannock family. Many cousins, aunts, and uncles in the valley were always available if he needed them. Yet he’d always felt something was missing.
No more.
Holding Marci in his arms as she slept, having given him her trust, made him complete. A vision of three interconnecting rings came into his mind. The two rings representing himself and Simon could easily separate, but when anchored by Marci, they locked into a whole.
They were a family, and their future began this night.
The raven sifted his beak through Lance’s hair. They’d love Marci’s long, soft hair even more than his own. Hers went past her waist while his only touched his shoulder blades. He kept it long because horses liked to sniff and nibble on it, treating it like a mane or tail.
He understood horses and most accepted him as a lead stallion, strong and tough enough to protect his herd. But unlike a real stallion, as a human he held power over the entire herd, including the lead mare. Normally she ruled the herd for she knew where to find the best grazing and where water could be found even in late August. Yet she bowed to her stallion when he demanded it, for she knew it was he who kept the herd safe.
Marci would fight like a mare with a stallion, making him prove his worth. But then she’d allow him to mount her from behind, proving his mastery. His cock hardened at the thought of sliding into this petite, powerful woman. She would resist his control as she was still feral, unsure of where she would fit. She had no one but her sister, the tall blonde Eric had chosen. Both women were assertive and passionate, yet insecure. A light but sure hand would bring them into line.
If he was still in bed with her, he could discover if she wore anything under her skirt. She’d have no need for panties at the ranch. He wanted her to feel her pussy lips rub as she walked. Knowing that all he had to do was lift her skirt to touch her swollen, wet lips, would arouse her. It would take time before she totally emerged from her cocoon, but when she did, she would be magnificent.
Marci was a Fox. She knew how to hide in plain sight, adapting to situations while her true self was camouflaged. Foxes, like ravens and wolves, were predators but they could coexist. Each had their own place and they complemented each other.
He was a Raven, flying high and seeing everything below. He could see prey or danger coming and would warn Wolf to prepare.
Fox could slip past, using her cunning and intelligence to add to the hunt, or gather information to fight the foe. Foxes cared for the young, protecting them with a vengeance and playing with them while teaching survival skills.
Like wolves and ravens, foxes were loyal. Marci had proven that in her caring for Nikki, and by staying with her husband even when she should have escaped.
Ravens lived in communities and wolves had their packs, but foxes were often alone. Marci was a black fox, a vixen, but she needed the closeness of family to thrive. Their children would be dark unless Simon’s Highland Scot genetics conquered his Bannock spirit. Perhaps they would have a petite red-haired daughter.
Lance knew far more about Marci than she realized. Even more than Simon. He’d had several long telephone conversations with a few people in town. As sheriff, Max Gibson knew most of what went on in town. He kept his counsel, as did Lance. They worked well together, and Max had provided enough information for Lance to understand the situation. Brenda was tight-lipped during the day, but she had no idea how much she talked in her sleep. Her husband kept any information he heard locked up as tight as he did the financial accounts of the people and companies he represented. But there were times when it was to someone else’s benefit for information to be judiciously shared.
Marci’s wild Spanish blood was hot, but she’d tried to contain it. Her fury tonight had shocked and frightened her but now her fiery darkness was gone. There were lingering traces, but she would clear them with in time.
After a warning tightening of claws, the bird on his shoulder yanked out a hair. Lance winced as it launched itself into the night with its prize. Raven was an agent of change. He brought wisdom and magic to those with the courage to face their fears, go beyond what was comfortable, and create a better future.