The Sorceress

by Allison Hobbs

  “Okay, I’ll do it.” The boy stood and stepped around the small desk.

  Eris turned a searing gaze at Jen. “Go fetch a whip.”

  The boy rolled his eyes. “These are modern times. I’ve learned much about this time period from my computer. Only sexual fetishists use whips and such gadgets. On the other hand, my father has a vast collection of belts in an array of leather and exotic skins.” He cut a knowing eye at Jen. “I’m sure you would have preferred to be taken over my father’s knee,” the boy said with a trace of amusement. “But I’m afraid the discipline you require won’t be of an erotic nature. Now, go get a belt…something sturdy that will leave marks when I strike your buttocks. Be quick, nanny!”

  Eris gave the boy a nod of approval. “That’s the spirit! Now, you sound more like the Xavier I once knew.”

  “Stay close to her, Boozer,” Ethan instructed. “We don’t want Eris’s lifeline to get away.”

  Her lifeline? Jen thought, bewildered.

  Boozer trudged across the room and shoved Jen so hard, she stumbled forward and crashed into a wall. Unwilling to even imagine the beast’s next move, Jen composed herself and got moving.

  Inside the senator’s bedroom, she yanked open a closet and swiftly ran her eyes over the rack that held the collection of belts, while warily looking over her shoulder to make sure the monster who loomed over her, panting and salivating, didn’t suddenly lunge.

  Though she was repelled by the sight of Boozer, she didn’t like having her back turned to him. She didn’t linger over the selection process and grabbed a thin belt. Seconds later, she rushed back to the boy’s room with Boozer close on her heels, and was comforted in a weird way by the sight of Ethan.

  With his acquired mastery of language and menacing facial expressions, Ethan no longer seemed even remotely childlike. But at least he was small. Being so puny, she doubted Ethan could inflict any serious harm.

  With a stiff upper lip, Jen handed Ethan the thin leather belt.

  Eris sneered at the flimsy belt that dangled from Jen’s hand. “Your governess chose something suitable for your miniature grasp,” she mocked.

  The boy padded toward Jen. So small, his head barely reached her thigh. He stood for a moment glowering at her, his tiny hands fisted at his sides. Then he stood on his tiptoes and wrenched the belt from her grasp.

  Giving in to a fit of cackling laughter, Eris eased off the desk. “This should be very interesting.”

  “Strip down. Bare your buttocks.”

  Jen looked aghast. Hearing Ethan speak was unsettling enough, but his request was way over the top and terrifying.

  “Do as I say!” he shouted, his face twisted with pure evil.

  Timidly, Jen tugged on the waistband of her jeans.

  “Wait!” He pointed toward his bed. “Go over there and bend over.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better if she stood?” Eris interjected. “Boozer can hold her and make sure she keeps still.”

  Both ideas were bad—absolutely nauseating, but all she could do was wait until a decision was reached.

  “Yeah, lemme at her!” The words rumbled out of Boozer; his voice deep and coarse with yearning. His mouth watered; saliva spilled; his facial muscles twitched with anticipation.

  “No!” She shrank back from his beastly gaze. It was inconceivable that her fate lay in the hands of a witch, a hulking monster, and a demon-possessed child. Jen trembled uncontrollably.

  After brief consideration, the boy said, “Go ahead, and grab her. Get her ready for me, Boozer.”

  In a matter of milliseconds, the beast locked his hairy hand around Jen’s wrist, jerking her so ferociously that her body slammed against his. As she tried to wriggle away, he roughly worked her jeans over her hips.

  Jen looked stricken. “No! Please, don’t hurt me. I’ll find clothes for Boozer to wear. I’m sure there’s something here that can fit him,” she pleaded, her eyes focused on Eris, who seemed to be calling the shots. “With clothes he won’t have to hide out in the cellar. He can come and go…and you know…mingle, with people.” Jen swallowed hard.

  Eris considered Jen’s words. “Do you know how to get to Roanoke?”

  “Uh, Roanoke, Virginia?” Her head bobbed up and down. “Yeah, sure. It’s about six or seven hours from here.” Jen forced her trembling lips into a smile.

  “Good. I’ll need you to drive me to the Stovall plantation.”

  Drive you where? She shouted in her mind, but nodded dumbly. She’d promise anything to buy time to save herself.

  “Eris! You’re getting time periods confused. The place that you’re so fixated on existed hundreds of years ago. As you well know, from your last visit here, slavery ended. We’re in a new millennium. No slaves, no plantations—Stovall or otherwise.”

  Eris gave the boy a thoughtful look. “Times may have progressed since I was in Roanoke, but I know for certain that the modern-day Stovalls are living on that same plantation where my jewels were buried. I used my third-eye vision to track them. My wonderful trinkets have been unearthed and handed over to a snotty-nosed child.” Eris spoke through clenched teeth. “I want my property back.”

  The boy snorted. “I didn’t work hard constructing that bridge so that you could go traipsing off looking for trinkets. We will stick to the plan.”

  “I don’t take orders from you, you little brat,” Eris hissed.

  “And you don’t want me to start screaming my head off like one. My parents are a very powerful political couple…a call from this house to emergency services will bring the police and the news media in a scant few seconds.” The boy smiled wickedly. “You’ll be suspected as kidnappers. It’ll be a real mess when the authorities realize that the suspects aren’t quite human. No pulse, no heartbeat, and flesh that’s subject to emulsify without proper nourishment.” He glared at Eris. “Is that what you want? Hmm? Do you want to literally rot in jail?”

  Eris looked away, considering the boy’s threat. Ethan folded his scrawny arms and waited for her to see things his way. The disharmony between the ghoulish trio gave Jen some time to think. She needed to get to a phone. Her mind searched frantically for a way to reach the closest cell or landline.

  Her cell was in her bedroom; too far away. There was a land-line telephone in practically every room of the house. All she had to do was slip away from these creatures and sneakily dial 9-1-1. She wouldn’t even have to utter a sound. Like Ethan said, a call from the Provost household would instantly bring in the calvary.

  “Your threats don’t frighten me,” Eris retorted, cobalt eyes glittering. “But…” She paused and nodded toward Boozer and rolled her eyes upward. “I can’t depend on Boozer to help with the planning. I’d better think this through before I rush off to Roanoke. So let’s make a deal right now. If I help you destroy your parents, will you assist me in retrieving my jewels?”

  “Yes. It’s a deal,” the boy readily agreed. “Now, let’s make arrangements for their demise. First, we need to dress you, Eris, so you can give the appearance of being a human mortal. As for Boozer…well, not even the finest clothes will help his image. He’ll have to be kept hidden.” He stared at Eris challengingly.

  “Fine. But Boozer has his needs and the governess may not be enough for him. Where is the rest of your household staff? Boozer needs a generous supply of women.”

  The boy arched a brow. “The cook should be here by now.”

  “Boozer already had the cook. Aren’t there others?”

  Oh, no! What did she mean by, had the cook? What happened to Carmen? Something really bad, Jen surmised. Suddenly forlorn, her shoulders slumped. She wanted to bury her face in her hands and weep. All hope was gone. Carmen would not be huffing up the stairs accompanied by a SWAT team dressed in battle gear and equipped with lethal weapons.

  “No, my parents keep a small staff. The maid is scheduled to work tomorrow. He’ll have to suppress his appetite until then.” Ethan lifted a brow. “That is…unless you’re willing to shar
e her.” He nodded his oversized head in Jen’s direction.

  “No, I need her. She’s mine.”

  Jen felt lightheaded, close to swooning. The discussion between Ethan and the naked woman was sheer lunacy—something from the Twilight Zone, but until she escaped Jen would have to co-exist with them in this twisted, altered reality. There was nothing she could do except stay alert and attempt to stay alive.

  Eris turned her scary eyes on Jen. “Let’s go select my new wardrobe, shall we? I hope the mistress of this house has refined taste.”

  Away from Ethan’s earshot, Jen started rambling. “I know there’s something here that can fit him. He shouldn’t have to stay caged in the basement. We don’t get many women here at the house, but there are hordes of them who roam the streets at night. If he goes out after dark, no one will suspect that he’s not quite human.”

  Eris’s eyes lit with hostility. Irritated, she motioned for Jen to lead the way.

  With the naked ghost lady at her side, Jen exited Ethan’s bedroom, giving a swift backward glance at Boozer. To Jen’s relief, he was not tagging along. He glowered and snarled at Jen, but at least he was staying put. Jen figured the woman must have given the brute a warning signal to keep an eye on Ethan. Good! Without the assistance of the cloven-foot beast, the ghost lady might not be a strong opponent. Perhaps Jen could subdue her, outrun her, or outsmart her and get her hands on a phone.

  Heart in her throat, Jen moved from one room to the next, frantically plotting an escape. Buying time, she slowly…mechanically searched closets, trunks, bureau drawers, and as expected, continually came up empty handed.

  She knew there was nothing in the house that the big ogre could even fit an arm or a leg inside. He was monstrously large. Without meaning to, Jen conjured up an image of Boozer.

  She grimaced at the thought of those claws, the tarnished sharp teeth, the hooves…and that big furry dick. Eew!

  On second thought, she preferred Boozer to be dressed and out of the house as quickly as possible.

  Yes, it was terrible to unleash such a hellish terror upon society. And it was an act of cowardice to try to spare herself while Boozer rampaged through the populace of Philadelphia and the entire tri-state area, she admitted, somewhat ashamed.

  But…she’d never claimed to be a humanitarian; she simply wasn’t brave enough or kind enough to deliberately martyr herself to save many. Wanting him, or it, or whatever Boozer was…far, far away from her, Jen began an enthusiastic search for jumbo-sized male attire.

  Eris sighed impatiently. “Forget about Boozer. I want to be fitted in the mistress’s finest garments.”

  The title Madame Vice President was going to be difficult enough for Jen to stomach, but referring to Catherine as mistress was really taking her bossy employer’s status a bit too far.

  Misery loves company and Jen truly wished Catherine was home right now, experiencing this horror-show right alongside of her. But she wasn’t. That hussy was somewhere visiting the troops, and enjoying the fawning press and the thunderous applause that erupted whenever she made an appearance.

  With her lips turned down in defeat, Jen muttered miserably, “Sure, follow me, I’ll show you the mistress’s wardrobe.”

  Eris swept into Catherine’s grand bedroom as if it were her very own. Her eyes sparkled in delight, dancing over the sights of the luxurious and well-made bed, the Moroccan rug, the sleek furnishings, and the silk drapes that hung at the windows.

  “This is lovely. Almost as lovely as my personal quarters on the Goddess Realm.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The Goddess Realm—my true home.”

  “Okay…”

  “I’m a goddess,” Eris spat, insulted that Jen hadn’t recognized her goddess-like qualities. Jen stared dumbly. Eris gawked at her if she were a blithering idiot who needed to be told a fact that should have been apparent.

  “Oh, you’re a goddess?”

  “I’m Eris, the goddess of destruction.”

  “I see.”

  “You don’t see. Your effort at humoring me is contemptuous.” Tiny sparks of fury flickered from Eris’s eyes.

  More frightened than ever, Jen calmed the quick-to-anger goddess. “I knew there was something special about you,” she placated Eris as she led her to an adjacent room that closely resembled a posh boutique. Catherine’s luxurious walk-in closet— featured suspended shelving, and a dressing area with excessive mirrors.

  “These are her power suits!” Jen exclaimed and pointed to a multitude of tailored separates in an array of colors and textures. Owning only a meager wardrobe, Jen was no fashionista, but even she, with her predilection for comfort rather than frill, knew that Catherine Provost’s wardrobe was stuffy and conservative. She hoped witchy woman wouldn’t mind.

  Frowning, Eris cradled her chin as she took inventory of Catherine’s business suits.

  Near the open door was shelving and drawers that contained accessories, sweaters, and other clothing items. Jen meandered over to a stack of pastel-colored cardigans. Needing something to do with her nervous hands, she lifted a random stack of sweaters and anxiously squeezed, crumpling the perfectly folded pile.

  Her eyes bounced around and lingered longingly at the threshold she yearned to sprint across. Maybe she should disable Eris and then escape. She surveyed the room in search of an object to bash the wicked woman upside the head.

  She needed something heavy enough to cause severe head trauma or, better yet, a death so swift and permanent, the creature would be cast back inside the computer or back to that “realm” she called home. But Jen saw nothing except satin clothes hangers, wimpy power suits, and plushy soft sweaters.

  Her eyes shot over to the many rows of shoes arranged in cubbies. Jen scanned them, hopeful. But the shoes were totally useless. All sensible pumps and flats. Not one pair of pointy, killer stilettos among the many pairs of conservative footwear.

  She struggled with the impulse to dash out of there. She was a strong runner; she could get downstairs and out the front door in record time.

  But she didn’t know what powers Eris possessed. Her claim of being a goddess could be true for all Jen knew. Being a goddess, maybe she didn’t need to run fast. Maybe she would take flight, whipping through the air in pursuit of Jen.

  Anything was possible in this household that had suddenly become a three-ring circus…a loony bin. No, the Provost home had become far worse; it was a haunted house with evildoers from other realms.

  If she thought hard enough about her grave circumstances, or gave in to her fears, she would pee her pants again, faint, or succumb to a fatal heart attack. But survival instincts would not allow her to give up without a fight.

  So, instead of running, Jen thought it a better idea to try to slip past Eris while she browsed through Catherine’s clothes. She stared at the door and then at Eris, who was sweeping through the sea of suits.

  Calculating her stealthy movements, Jen’s eyes shifted around, making sure Eris was preoccupied. She was, but not with the wardrobe. For some inexplicable reason, she’d shifted her attention to her hands and was holding them up to her face, flipping them back and forth, smiling a wicked smile as she marveled at her palms and then at the backs of her hands as if they were precious stolen goods that she’d cunningly confiscated.

  They were nice enough hands with long, slender fingers, but really...what was the big deal? Jen shrugged. Seizing the opportunity, she promptly returned the rainbow hues of cashmere inside the lavender-scented drawer. With the toes of her left foot pointed, she prepared to make her sneaky move.

  “These garments are deplorable!” Eris’s voice suddenly filled the quiet room. “Where’s the mistress’s finery?”

  Caught in the act, Jen took in a harsh gasp of breath. Her heart fluttered erratically. “Her finery?”’ she asked, her face scrunched in confusion.

  Ghost lady had her furious bright blue eyes fixated on her, and Jen, too intimidated and too guilty to meet her gaze, hung
her head low. Her escape attempt was thwarted but, too absorbed in her repulsion, Eris didn’t seem to notice Jen’s outstretched leg.

  Resignedly, Jen lowered her foot. She was stuck. There’d be no making a run for it or any stealthy tip-toeing out of there.

  Strutting around the well-organized room with an air of confidence not typically associated with someone in dire need of clothing, Eris made a flourishing gesture with her long arm. “There nothing suitable here. When I take my trip to Roanoke, I want to be swathed in the finest lady-like apparel. I refuse to be seen in any of these unsightly garments. There’s not even a decent frock in sight.”

  Pants and skirt suits lay in a colorful heap on the floor. Wearing an expression of loathing, Eris dropped a black skirt and fitted jacket combo on top of the discarded pile of business wear with such force, a gust of air fluttered and lifted Jen’s bangs from her forehead.

  What the hell is a frock? Jen scratched her head. Oh! Suddenly illuminated, she realized that Eris was stuck in slavery times and wanted to wear a dress, but not just any dress…she wanted something fancy like a Scarlett O’Hara, belle-of-the-ball type gown. A gaudy little number with a brocade fitted top, cinched waist and layers and layers of voluminous satiny skirts. Why would a black woman, even a partially dead one, yearn for such a crude reminder of high times in the Antebellum South? Jen almost shook her head in disgust, but caught herself. She dared not risk making a gesture that would possibly raise the hackles of the ill-tempered goddess.

  “I thought you wanted…you know, something casual. Catherine keeps her gowns separate.”

  As if expecting the ball gowns to be as humdrum of the rest of the gear, Eris gave a contemptuous snort. “Well…where are the frocks?”

  “This way.” Jen led Eris to the opposite side of the vast room. “Her evening gowns are stored in air-tight bags,” Jen explained, forcing a smile that strove to please.

  Jen swung open the double doors of a heavy closet. Eris was right behind Jen. So close, her naked breasts pressed into Jen’s back. Her nipples felt like daggers, giving Jen the willies. Eris was completely comfortable in her nudity, desiring clothing only so she could make her journey to Roanoke.