Now it’s your turn, Sherwood. Save the world.
Gracey pulled her arms in against the unseen forces fighting to escape the bounds of her body. They didn’t belong to her and would struggle against the unnatural imprisonment, especially after just being released from their jars. She took a deep breath and tried to fill her soul with love and light, to calm the power and give it comfort and understanding.
A moment later, she had total control. And the force filled her with a confidence she’d never experienced before. Gracey squeezed her palms together in front of her chest until she felt the power swirling just beneath her skin. When it grew to a high enough intensity, she thrust her hands up and forward.
Energy drove from her fingers, intersecting with the beam about ten feet above Tori’s head. The air around the spot shimmered and crackled as two incredible forces fought for dominance. Gracey felt the beam move ever so slightly, but Tori must have felt it, too. She increased her chanting along with the others, and Gracey felt the beam push back against her.
She closed her eyes, silently praying for help from Hecate, the Goddess of the Witches. Although her coven worshipped Morrighan, Gracey always felt more connected to Hecate. Her altar at home was dedicated to the deity and so was Gracey.
With renewed inspiration, Gracey began to draw power from the Mother Earth. A warm sensation radiated through her, adding itself to the energy she wielded and moving the beam off course again. Each time Tori pushed back, Gracey absorbed more power and thrust forward. She would be victorious.
“Shoot her!” Tori wailed.
Samuel’s eyes widened in fear that had nothing to do with the magic being worked all around him. He slowly raised his rifle but kept his finger off the trigger. Before Gracey could even register the danger, Phoenix’s back pressed against her front. He’d chosen to be a human shield again, only this time he protected Gracey instead of Tori’s crystal.
“Shoot them both, you useless hick,” Tori screamed at her brother.
It wouldn’t have taken a psychologist to predict the attitude adjustment coming from Samuel. His rifle lowered immediately, as did those of his friends, and the three left their post—and Samuel’s sister.
Gracey held firm, but wouldn’t last much longer. No human was meant to wield that much power, and the longer she did, the less focus she had. Her beam of energy, once hitting Tori’s in tight formation, now spread out into a wide stream, diluting its strength. Tori’s beam pushed further and further back as Gracey’s weakened.
“Need a hand?” The girl all but screamed in her ear.
The next thing Gracey knew, Mirissa stood at her back, arms raised parallel to hers with her palms facing inward. She slowly squeezed her hands together and Gracey’s beam followed suit. Somehow, the girl was able to push the energy back into tight formation. Gracey supplied the stream of power, and Mirissa molded it into a force of nature.
Tori’s beam shattered, creating sparks out of thin air that shimmered in the bright sunlight and fizzled as they fell to Earth. As they fell, Tori’s shoulders sagged. Her alabaster skin took on a sallow appearance and her eyes lost their shine. As every coven member looked to her for guidance, Tori simply stared straight ahead, seemingly in shock at the unexpected outcome.
Gracey silently thanked her deity, the Earth, and the borrowed powers for their help. She let go of the forces she’d absorbed from the jars and sent them to their rightful homes. As they poured out of her body, she grew weak and dizzy once again.
Gracey’s trembling lips turned up in a smile as a wobbly image of Orano running toward her filled her blurred vision. He wrapped her in his arms as though he hadn’t seen her in years. When he pulled back, a worried expression covered his face.
“Are you all right? You don’t look so good.”
The baritone voice sounded far away but filled every cell in her body with comfort. The afternoon breeze drew goosebumps from her damp skin, but she didn’t care. They’d won, and that was what mattered. She reached up to give the man she loved one last kiss, then collapsed in his arms.
Chapter 29
“Gracey!’ Orano yelled. “Gracey!” He gently lowered her to the ground, placing her head on his lap and stroking her hair. She stared up at him with glassy eyes, a weak smile still on her lips. Even like this she seemed happy.
Phoenix knelt in front of her, holding her hand in both of his. “Come on, girl. Don’t you dare give up this easily.”
“What’s wrong with her?” one of the coven witches called out.
Orano almost shot an energy ball at the woman but kept himself under control. “Stay the hell away from her.”
Myrine crouched down beside them. “What can I do to help? I don’t know anything about magic, but I’ll do whatever I can.”
A blinding light erupted all around them. Orano instinctively bent low over Gracey to cover her from whatever new danger had caused it. When nothing exploded, he raised his head to see something he’d never expected to witness again.
Three goddesses stood by the campfire. Two wore long, hooded robes covering most of their faces, while the third—the one Orano knew to be Artemis from the time she’d popped in on them on Ortega—wore the same white gown and gold belt she’d worn back then. All of them, however, radiated awesome power.
The one closest to them pulled back her hood to reveal the kind of beauty only a divine being possessed. “Do you know who I am?” Her voice reverberated through him.
“Yes, Hecate. I do,” Gracey whispered as she tried to push herself up.
Orano took the hint and pulled her onto his lap, where he supported her weight and held her tight.
“And I?” The other removed her hood and stood before them.
“Morrighan,” Gracey looked to the last smiling goddess and added, “And you are Artemis.”
Every coven member, including Tori and her inner circle, bowed low. Orano didn’t understand what was happening, and Artemis seemed to take pity on him.
“We are known as the Triple Goddess and have been deities to witches for all time.” She glanced to Myrine and smiled. “Many gods and goddesses pull double-duty.”
Hecate kneeled next to Gracey. “Do you call for justice to be done here?”
The gasps coming from the other witches told Orano that question wasn’t as simple as it sounded. “What does that mean?”
Hecate turned toward him. “I deliver swift justice when asked.”
Orano waited for her to continue. He felt quite sure there would be more to it than that. He was right.
“However …” She once again focused on Gracey. “Should you ask me to dole out justice, you must be willing to accept the same upon yourself. Are you willing to pay that price?”
“You don’t need to do this, Gracey. We can make sure Tori gets justice,” Orano reassured her.
Gracey’s smile grew wide. “Hecate has been my deity since I became a witch. I’ve worshiped her for years. I respect and trust her.” She turned to Hecate and answered the goddess’s question. “I am willing to pay the price.” Gracey placed her hand on Orano’s cheek. “Thank you for coming for me, Sparkles. I love you.”
The goddess stood and every coven witch cowered in fear. Everyone except Tori, who turned to her coven’s deity. “Morrighan, I’ve worshipped you for years. My whole coven has. There must be something you can do for me. I shouldn’t be punished. The mundanes deserve to be put in their place. They’re the weak ones who should be forced to live in hiding.” When angry murmurs broke out from the other coven members, Tori appeared hopeful, until it became obvious their outrage was directed at her.
The Morrighan placed her hand on Tori’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, child. Justice has been called for and must be accepted.” The goddess pulled up her hood and moved to stand beside Artemis.
Tori doubled over, heaving convulsively. She braced herself with her hands on her knees, but the spasms got worse. Orano crinkled his nose at the thought of watching her vomit, but what happened next
shocked him even more.
With every heave, blue smoke gushed from her mouth. Each puff hung in the air for a moment before disappearing, sucked into the earth. As Tori continued to spew, Liza started the same process, followed by Nicole, and then Joy. All four of the inner circle coughed out blue smoke until the clouds became smaller and smaller and finally stopped. The women crashed to their knees, their heads hung low.
“You used other witches for your own gains,” Hecate began. “You bound powers to protect your secrets. You will no longer have the ability to do that. Your access to magic has been removed, as has your access to speech.”
The crowd, already driven into silence at the spectacle, slapped their hands over their own mouths as though doing so would save them from the same fate as their coven leaders.
“You,” the goddess addressed the coven. “You knew not what your priestess planned, but you should have.” Hecate turned to Greco. “Show them.”
Greco pulled out the journal he’d retrieved from Tori’s shop earlier and held it high.
“You believed what you wanted to believe, not what your hearts—and Gracey—told you. You were blinded to reality by your dreams of acceptance. As a result, until the next full moon, you will each live a transparent life. You will not be able to hide a single thought or feeling from anyone. You will learn the importance of truth.” The goddess let her gaze capture each of the women. “And this journal will never be locked away again. The messages it contains are far too important.”
Some of the witches looked relieved, while others looked horrified. Orano thought they’d been let off far too easily.
“And you, young Gracey. Your ancestor set an example that no Sherwood since has been able to live up to.”
Gracey’s back arched and her eyes flew open. Orano held her tight. “How can you do this to her? She stopped them from destroying everything. Take me instead. I’ll pay the price on her behalf. Please.”
Gracey coughed and black smoke billowed out of her mouth. As with Tori and the others, it hung in the air before soaking into the ground. Gracey’s body relaxed back into Orano’s chest, her breathing stronger than before the episode.
“As I was saying”—Hecate raised her eyebrow at Orano—“no Sherwood has lived up to her ancestor’s example … until now. Young Gracey, your soul is pure and unburdened by poisonous thoughts or actions. Now your body is likewise unburdened.”
Gracey jolted to her feet. “The foxglove. You saved my life.” She bowed her head in heartfelt reverence. “Thank you.”
“You have much to do, my child. Do it well.” Hecate turned to the woods. “And you, gentlemen. Please come forward.”
Orano turned to see the Ọwọ ti Ọlọrun brotherhood, or what was left of it after their short battle with him and Greco, step tentatively out of the trees.
“You have done much harm in the name of your religion. Many innocent lives have been taken to honor a belief that is based on a lie told long ago.” Hecate focused on one man. “You are their leader, correct?”
“I am,” the older man answered with more strength than Orano expected.
“State your name,” Hecate ordered.
“Bishop Abiola.”
“Bishop, from this day forward, you and your followers will only be able to dole out justice that you are willing and able to accept upon yourselves, as anything you inflict on others will be inflicted upon you. You will no longer judge people based on anything other than their character.
To Orano’s utter shock, Abiola and his men fell to their knees in supplication. “As you wish, Goddess.”
Another blinding flash of light, and all three deities were gone.
“Did that just happen?” Gracey asked.
“Yeah.” Orano smiled. “Stuff like that kind of does happen around us.”
Gracey swallowed hard, looked into his eyes, and whispered, “I think I may have soiled my big girl panties.”
Epilogue
Orano lobbed another non-lethal energy ball at the cocky kid in the Omega Group’s training center. Although his ability would be a great addition to their team, his attitude needed a serious adjustment. Many agents offered to take care of that particular problem over the past few months of the kid’s training, but Myrine had yet to take them up on it.
As the boy focused on separating the molecules of the energy ball before it hit him, Orano drilled him with a smaller one on his backside.
“Hey! That’s not fair. I wasn’t ready yet.”
“Too bad, kid. I’ve got a flight to catch.” Orano threw a towel at the boy as he left the gym.
When the kid turned the corner he heard him mumble, “Say hi to your girlfriend for me, Sparkles.”
Any other time, and he would have gladly knocked the kid through a wall for that, but not today. He hadn’t seen Gracey in over a month—not since her inauguration as High Priestess of the Sherwood Coven. It had taken all of his willpower today not to walk around the building with an ear-to-ear smile plastered on his face just at the thought of sweeping her into his arms.
His reputation had taken enough of a hit after their mission in Virginia Beach. The other agents no longer gave him a wide berth and actually started inviting him to go for drinks with them. He didn’t want to make it any worse. He grabbed his bag and headed for his car.
“Hey, Orano. Wait up a sec,” Myrine called out.
“Can it wait, Myrine? I’m officially on vacation, and I don’t want to miss my flight.”
“Don’t worry,” his boss said. “I was just wondering if you’d seen Myrick. I need him for a job.”
“I think he’s in the dock house. Why? Did the pool lining get torn again?”
“Very funny. No. It’s actually a problem in the Bermuda Triangle.”
That got Orano’s attention. “Seriously? What’s going on?”
Myrine crossed her arms over her chest. “You know all the ships and aircraft that have disappeared there over the years? Well, they seem to be coming back.”
The End
A Note from the Author
Thanks so much for taking the time to read Chaos. I know you have no shortage of options when it comes to reading material, and I greatly appreciate you choosing to hang out with the Omega Group in your free time.
For those of you who have been with this series from the very beginning, you know exactly what I’m about to ask. For those who just began your journey with me, I have a request to make. Please take a moment to leave a review on Amazon. I know it sounds like an insignificant thing but, for an author, each and every one of those reviews has an enormous impact on the success of the book. From a personal standpoint, I read every single one of them, and the lessons I learn (what I’m doing right as well as what I’m doing wrong) change the way I write. You can click HERE to leave your review if you like.
Now, on to the fun stuff. I infuse as much truth as I can into all of my stories. For Chaos, the entire idea bloomed from the true story of a woman named Grace Sherwood.
The witch trials of the late seventeenth century are infamous. You’d be hard pressed to find anyone who doesn’t know about the horrors perpetrated in Salem, Massachusetts. Yet, despite popular beliefs, many colonies chose a different path.
Unlike Salem courts, where the accused needed to prove her innocence, Virginia required the person bringing the accusations to prove them. Judges and magistrates in Virginia usually dismissed the charges as unsubstantiated, and even allowed for the accuser to be sued for slander. During that entire period in Virginia’s history, not one witch trial ended with a death.
All of the events mentioned in the prologue of this book are taken from historic documents and tell the story of what happened to the real Grace Sherwood. Well, maybe not the part about her actually being a witch and starting the Sherwood Coven in secret. I added that myself. I’m not saying that part’s not true, just that it’s not in any documents that I could find. But, for my purposes, I really want it to be true.
Speaking o
f finding the truth, when it comes to witchcraft, it is an incredibly difficult thing to do. When I’m writing a book, I spend an enormous amount of time doing research. I need details on everything from street names to historical figures to weather patterns to, well, everything. I’ll spend hours poring over articles, news clippings, videos, and pictures. Oh, and on a side note, I have no idea how authors were able to do all of that before the internet. Kudos to them.
In the case of researching witchcraft, I ran into a serious problem. There was just too much information out there. It seemed as though everyone had an opinion on what witchcraft was, what it entailed, and who could wield it. I was lost in a sea of contradictions with no yardstick by which to measure.
After visiting hundreds of websites, one kept drawing me back. I can’t explain why, but I somehow knew it would be the site to help me. Then, after hours of clicking from one page to the next, feeling like a second grader sitting in on a high school physics class, I gave up. I clicked the “contact” button and sent an email to whomever it was that ran the site, introducing myself and asking for help.
And this is how I met a real life witch. Not the curious college student who sits in circles chanting prayers to Mother Earth while updating her Facebook profile to say Wiccan, but an honest-to-goodness, born-and-raised, magic-wielding, hereditary Celtic witch.
She goes by the name Lady of the Abyss, and she became an invaluable resource. Her expertise spans not only the Craft, but also Wicca, Druidism, Hoodoo, Santeria, Voodoo, and so much more. I inundated her with questions at every turn, and she took the time to answer every one of them, showing a level of patience I wish I possessed. Her generosity, honesty, and willingness to share deeply personal information with me was a gift I’ll never be able to repay. Please understand that any inaccuracies in my story with regard to witchcraft are my doing, not hers. Sometimes I needed to take liberties.
Chaos (Book 4) (The Omega Group) Page 19