Sorceress of Faith

ROBIN D. OWENS

SORCERESS OF
FAITH

The
Usual Suspects: Kay Bergstrom (Cassie Miles), Liz Roadifer, Janet Lane, Sharon
Mignerey (www.sharonmignerey.com), Steven Moores, Judy Stringer, Anne Tupler,
Sue Hornick, Alice Kober, Teresa Luthye, Peggy Waide (www.peggywaide.com),
Giselle McKenzie

To Kay
Who encouraged and supported me from the
beginning and continues to do so—
my stories would be so much less without you

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

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9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

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25

26

27

28

29

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31

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36

37

Cut Second
Scene from Original Chapter 1

Marian and
Golden Raven

Sorceress of
Faith, Cut Scene-Jaquar

ORIGINAL
CHAPTER 1...

1

Boulder,
Colorado

Late
spring, early morning

S
he was running,
running, running. Marian wished the passages were narrower, twistier, because
the thing that chased her was huge and deadly. With each breath putrid air
seared her lungs. The cavern’s corridors oozed slime
.

She
stumbled, clutched the plastic ball holding her hamster close. Looking down at
her cross-trainer shoes in horror, she saw the laces were untied. She always
tied them in perfect double bows
.

A
vibration hit her back. The monster’s breath. Stitch cramping her side, she
used terror for a burst of speed and reached narrow upward stairs. Fresher air,
laden with blood instead of poisonous acid, fouled her nostrils. She climbed,
thinking the thing behind her could flow up the stairs. It wanted her blood,
her guts, her brains
.

Bumping
from side to side, scraping skin raw, protecting her pet, she jumped up the
steps and burst out onto a wide ledge of rock. With agility she didn’t know she
had, she pivoted, avoiding the edge, hit the cliff face. Leaned into it.
Gulping night air, she felt the thing brush past her, and fall screaming
.

She
couldn’t stop herself from looking down. Saw something worse than the huge
shattered body of the monster that had hunted her. Her younger brother Andrew
was surrounded by chanting black-robed druids who looked like death
personified. Some of the druids held scythes, some gongs, some chimes
.

Prone
Andrew was, more pale than he’d ever been in life. Shrieking, “Nooooo!” she put
the ball between her feet, lifted her arms as if she could call thunder that
would set his heart to thumping again, push his blood; lightning that would
nail his soul into his body, fire the spark of life
.

A
wet chuckle came next to her, freezing her blood. Slowly she turned her head to
see a cowled figure with gleaming red eyes, a face not quite human but which
might have been a man’s, once. He opened his mouth wide, and it got larger and
larger, ready to swallow her whole. She raised her hands, fingertips arcing
blue fire
—

Marian
Harasta jolted from the dream, covered in clammy sweat. Morning light streamed
through the high windows of her garden apartment and she gasped in relief.

Before
she could exhale, the chimes sounded, rippling through her nerves and echoing
in her mind. Then the gong reverberated, arching her body off the bed. Her
vision blurred and distant chanting rushed in her ears. She was bowed for one
long moment before she fell back onto the bed, panting.

First
the nightmare. Now the sounds. For the past months, dreams and auditory
hallucinations had peppered her life—sleeping and waking. She steadied herself
with even breathing. She would figure out what was happening to her. She’d had
a full physical the week before, and a psychological evaluation, too. And she
was perfectly fine.

The
strangeness had started with sounds, then the dreams, then an itchy feeling as
if she were a butterfly escaping from a constrictive cocoon, ready to stretch
her wings. The notion was more than a little scary because her academic career
was on track and her life tidy and under control. Except for Andrew, her half
brother with progressive-remitting Multiple Sclerosis.

Brrrrinnng
. The telephone.
She flung off her covers and stumbled from bed, staggering to the phone charger
on the kitchen counter. She had to blink a couple of times to read the caller
ID. Her mother, Candace. Hell. The relationship with her mother, too, was out
of Marian’s control. She let voice mail answer.

Marian
wiped her face on the sleeve of her flannel nightgown, pondering options to
understand, then fix, her problems. She couldn’t discuss this with her academic
professors of Comparative Religion and Philosophy, or her advisor sheparding
her through her doctorate. Her university profs would not understand. She
didn’t want any oddness attached to her spotless reputation as she planned on a
professional career.

Since
the problem wasn’t physical or psychological, she’d considered psychic
phenomena. Since she’d been fascinated by alternative spiritualities for years,
she thought she might find help there.

She’d
examined all the notes from all the classes she’d taken outside the
university—New Age classes that fed her thirst for knowledge—searching for
answers. Somewhere there was a solution for what plagued her and she
would
find it.

As
she padded to the bathroom, she checked on her hamster, Tuck, curled in his
cage in the alcove. A half-chewed piece of carrot was within paw reach. All was
well in his small world.

Marian
only wished it were the same for her. She worked hard to keep her life in
order, and usually succeeded, but lately…

In
the shower as water slicked away sweat, she decided to call Golden Raven. The
lady leaned more to Native American beliefs than Marian did, but she was more
open-minded than many and would listen without judging. She might know of
instances similar to Marian’s experiences. That would be a good step in
controlling the weirdness that had invaded her life.

“Yes,”
she muttered as she dressed for her work-study job. “I need Golden Raven.” She
went to the telephone. Should she call Golden Raven or Candace? Glancing at the
clock, she thought it might be too early for Golden Raven. If Marian didn’t
phone Candace back, her mother’s mood would turn nasty and her demands would
escalate. Inhaling deeply, Marian called the residence of Candace’s sixth
husband, a mansion in an old, upscale area of Denver.

Candace’s
tone was sharp. “Well, Marian, it’s good you called.” Papers rustled in the
background. Since Candace didn’t launch into speech, Marian figured her mother
was multitasking.

Excellent.
Maybe they could get through a conversation without damaging each other. “What
do you want, Mother?” asked Marian.

“Hmm?
Oh, yes, Marian. You must come down here to Denver for a fund-raiser tomorrow
night, Friday, 7:30 p.m. Cocktails and dinner.”

“Why,
Mother?” Marian was deeply entrenched in academia now; she’d never be a person
who could enhance her mother’s status in any way. Thank God.

Candace
heaved an exasperated sigh. “Trenton Philbert III remarried a month ago. A
woman who runs one of the largest occult shops in Denver. Why he married such a
creature
, no one knows. I just learned he and his new wife will be at
the benefit. Trenton dotes on the woman and his contribution is necessary for
us to meet our goal.”

Ah,
various cities competed to raise the most money and Candace intended to prove
she was the best. Candace continued, “So I need to keep his wife happy to keep
him
happy.”

Instead
of zooming in on the woman like a barracuda.

“I
can’t imagine that anyone would have any idea what to say to her.”
Creature
was still in Candace’s voice. “Then, I thought of you, of course. With all
your…experience in that area.”