The Goddess Redemption #2 - Spellbound (a Paranormal Romance)

The Goddess Redemption

-
Part Two:

Spellbound

By

Kelli Lockheart

Published By:

Kelli Lockheart

©
Copyright @ 2013

http://www.kellilockheart.com

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior written consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction.
All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

              Aphrodite watched as the other gods filed out of the audience chamber. Zeus had ordered them to leave the moment Aphrodite had brought up his daughter.

             
“You waste your breath, goddess. Artemis has a lot to learn in her human lives.” Zeus said, his back turned to her. Aphrodite could see the shimmer of the chambers now lacked that polished luster she was accustomed to. The loss of power was beginning to make itself evident in small and insignificant ways, but the Goddess of Love knew that it would not be long before the limitation of power was felt among all the gods. And not just the most powerful.

             
“This is folly, King,” Aphrodite said, boldly. “The shifters steal more of our power daily.”

             
“I will worry about my power, Aphrodite. You concern yourself with my daughter. What of this next challenge for Artemis? Tell me about it,” he said and she watched him begin to pace around the room. Zeus loved Artemis, but his stubbornness about restoring her to power was likely to bring about their doom. Artemis had created the shifters. She had also killed her lover, Orion, on the day of their betrothal. Zeus had been so angry by the turn of events that he had made her human. The Huntress was bound to the earth, forced to overcome challenges set forth by Aphrodite and Zeus.

So far, Artemis had only learned to overcome her anger and it was not enough. Orion had been killed as a god, but he was destined to live and die repeatedly on earth. Reincarnation was an unforeseen side effect of his death as a god.

              “It is how we wished it. Those beasts of her creation hunt her, but she is safe. He is already on his way. Jealousy will plague her in this next task,” she said.

             
“You are certain she is safe?” he asked and Aphrodite could hear his concern in every word.

             
“For now, I can keep her from harm, but how long can we continue this? I feel the strength leave me every day, just as you do, my king. Restore them both, the rest of us are not hunters. These beasts have already wreaked enough havoc. Let the hunters take over.”

             
“My power is strong, goddess, would you like a demonstration?” Zeus asked her and Aphrodite let the subject go. The last thing she wanted was to stir his wrath, she had already pushed as far as she was likely to get that day. “He is on his way?” he asked her, the subject of the shifters avoided once again.

             
“Yes. He was running headstrong into the lion’s den when I found him, but his path is set now.” Aphrodite wasn’t sure how long the subject of the shifters could be avoided. If only the god before her would admit any sort of weakness. The whole thing had started as a means for Artemis to reclaim herself by learning valuable life lessons, but it seemed as if the Huntress’ father could learn a few of his own.

             
Aphrodite forced herself to think about the next phase in the challenge.
Jealousy is a hard emotion to overcome
,
especially for a god.

****

              Sara didn’t think there was anything that could be done. She had no power herself. All of it came from nature. She looked at the woman holding the babe to her breast. The child refused to eat. The babe had been bitten and was fevered, cursed. Sara had seen a number of people go through the same thing. The symptoms were always the same. A complete loss of appetite was followed by fever and chills.

             
“Please, there has to be something you can do,” the mother begged and Sara could only shake her head. The victims, those who didn’t die, were transformed into.... Sara searched for the right word. But the only one that came to mind wasn’t one she was willing to name the child, even mentally. She refused to think of the baby as a monster, but in her heart, she knew that was what it would become.

             
“What about the rest of my family? How are we going to survive? Why won’t the gods protect us?” the woman broke down and her sobs wracked at Sara’s heart.
Because we are fools
. The thought flashed into her mind and Sara took a deep breath. Strange images had been invading her mind, but she couldn’t let them bother her now. She focused on the woman and child in front of her until she knew her thoughts were her own.

             
The truth was that she had been working on a cure, with absolutely no success. The wolfsbane needed a catalyst. That catalyst, she believed, was the key to their survival. The questions the woman asked her were the same questions she had been asking herself.

Sara and her sister, Meg, were raised by their grandmother. They never knew their parents, so when their grandmother died, it bound them together. That was why she was so protective of Meg. Sara had been looking for a cure when she stumbled upon a barrier spell to protect a dwelling from the monsters. The active ingredient in the potion was
wolfsbane, a fairly plentiful purple flower for the area. She had quite a bit drying in a rack in the storage shed.

She and her sister had tested the potion the night before. Sara knew that it worked. She hadn’t found a cure, but she had found the answers to those questions. She looked at the woman.

“I can protect you and your family tonight,” Sara said. She heard Meg come into the room from behind her. “But you can’t tell anyone. Not tonight. You have to promise me.”

“But if you can protect us, then everyone should know. The next mother won’t have to do this
,” she said as she hugged the babe in her arms.

“And they won’t
,” Sara promised the grieving woman. “But right now, I don’t have enough to protect everyone. I need time to make more. Give me my time and I’ll give you this night of protection for you and your family.” Sara watched as the woman’s hope was drowned out by the crying infant in her arms.

“I will. Thank you
,” she sobbed. “What can I do for my child?”

“There is nothing. I am sorry
,” Sara said, softly. “He will change soon, tonight maybe, or the next. It will happen.” Sara said and grabbed the woman’s arms. “You do not want to see it when it does. But you know this, already. That is why you are here.”

“Not yet!” the mother wailed and Sara’s heart broke. Every time a mother brought an infected child to her, it was the same. She looked at Meg. Her sister was an empath. Whereas Sara was tune
d in to nature, Meg was in tune with humanity. The differences between them didn’t stop there, either. Sara’s hair was dark and she had strong features; Meg was blonde with a softer appeal. Meg was easy going and Sara was stubborn. In every way they were opposites.

“Tonight
,” her sister mouthed and handed Sara the vial filled with purple liquid. She had written the incantation and instructions on a small slip of paper. Sara held the potion in her hand. It always surprised her at how heavy it was. Some potions were light, others, not so much. This was by far the densest compound she had mixed. She didn’t know how it worked; she just knew for certain that it did.

“I will take him, if you want
,” Sara offered and watched the woman eye the potion in her hand. “It is yours, no matter what you choose,” Sara assured her and enfolded the vial into the mother’s hand.

“What do you do to them?” she asked, gripping the vial like a lifeline.

“I will tend him until his transformation; at that point, I will release him.”

“You don’t kill them?” the woman asked
. Sara had been asked this question many times before.

“Certainly not. They are still children after all. They just don’t belong to us anymore
,” Sara said and she remembered the first time she had witnessed the transformation. It had been a child then too. “I can make the transition a lot easier for him. He won’t suffer. That is what I offer. Do you want me to do that for your son?”

At that point, the
ir decision was always easier.

****

Victor put another log on the fire. The night was colder in the mountains and the further he climbed, chasing the herd of stag, the more frigid the nightly temperatures. It was the last hunt of the season, the snows would harden to ice and the smaller game would take to their dens soon. The mating season was over, but Victor wanted one more kill. He warmed his hands, squatting close to the fire. Behind him lay his bow and quiver.
And the arrow
. The voice in his head taunted him, nearly as bad as the mad old woman who had given him the damn thing. He settled back into a sitting position and reached for the arrow.

It felt like an icicle in his hand and it held
a bluish tint, even under the firelight. The tip was splendid and shone as if it had never been used. There were strange markings on the shaft and Victor had to admit that it was probably very valuable. It certainly appeared as if it was made of pure silver, he had never seen anything like it and yet it felt familiar in his hands. He threw it into the quiver with the rest of his arrows.

He was about to stretch back when, from the inky black of the night that closed around his small campsite, Victor heard the howl of the wolf. The mountains went silent and
he froze in place as the hairs stood on the back of his neck. He heard the crunch of leaves and the rustle of underbrush. The massive form of black moved into the small clearing. The light from the fire seemed small, when compared to the eyes that stared at him from behind it.

Out of instinct, Victor
grabbed his bow and rolled to the side as the beast lunged forward over the flame. He brought up an arrow, drew back and released. The arrow found its mark. The beast should have fallen, but it didn’t. He pulled another one from the quiver, took aim and released. Again, the sound of an arrow biting into flesh reached him across the small gap separating him and the very much alive wolf. In horror, Victor watched the beast move towards him, both arrows embedded into the creature, one at its heart, the other at its lungs.

Readying
for a second lunge from the wolf, Victor crept, slowly, until he felt the bark of the tree dig into his back. He would make his stand.

“More human than god
, now, hunter?” the wolf growled, the words coming forth alarming Victor.
Am I mad?
He had to wonder if he had really heard the wolf speak. Surely not, and yet, he could not shake the feeling that he had spoken to its kind before.
Are there others?

He fought off the urge to look around, afraid to take his eyes away from the creature for even a moment. If there were others, he knew they had him. As he reached for another arrow, his hand hit the cold one and it burned. If the strange arrow had been cold before, it was a vacuum for heat at that moment. His hand tingled as he brought it up and took aim.

“You can’t kill me, hunter
,” the wolf spoke again, the words falling away to a growl. Victor knew he wouldn’t get another chance, his aim must be true. So he waited for the beast to make its next move.

Meg was finally asleep by the time Sara had left their small cabin. Sleep was hard enough during the day, but at night, sleep had become impossible since the shifters began ravaging the area. They came nearly every evening, turning any they didn’t kill outright. Those villagers, protected by the barrier spell she had created, would make it through, those unprotected, were not so fortunate. The problem with the spell was that it required wolfsbane, which was usually a very plentiful flower in the region. But since the shifters, the flower had become scarce, until finally, it was all but gone, having been picked clean by all those in need of the protective barrier potion.

Sara saddled her mare, Julip
, well before the sun had risen. She hoped that by leaving very early, she could make it far enough away to find more of the purple flower, critical for their survival. Quietly, she led the horse from its stall and through the small gate. Nervously, she looked around before leading the horse past the protected area. When she gained her seat on the horse, she urged it forward, cautiously at first. But as she rode down the familiar path, she felt a calm settle over her.

She needed to be past the bridge before the sun started peaking from the east. If she could get there, she felt sure that she could find at least enough
wolfsbane to protect them all a few more nights.
What then?
Her mind would not let her rest. She had given up on finding a cure. How much of the precious flower had she wasted on that futile endeavor, she couldn’t be certain. Too much, being the only answer that came to mind.

Sara had packed a small satchel and a few times, she would feel around her waist to make sure the contents were still there. She might not be able to match the beasts in power and strength, but she knew potions and charms. She knew exactly which root could bring about a man’s painful death in a fortnight and which frog had a poisonous skin that could stop a man’s heart in an instant. She also knew which herb would ease a woman’s childbirth and which one would get rid of an unwanted child. She also knew other things, darker things. It was these she carried with her. She would use them, but only if she had to. The mixture always had a wicked explosive effect. Nothing in the blast radius of twenty feet would live, but she had never used one so close, as injury could happen up to thirty feet from the center of impact.

The potion was the most powerful of its kind and she hadn’t learned it from her grandmother. No, this potion had come from the stranger. The woman had passed through on her way to the next village. She had come righ
t before the first attack. Meg had fed her some stew and given her some wine to wash it down with, while Sara had given her some salve for her aches and pains. When the woman had insisted on paying the sisters for their kindness, they weren’t surprised when she wanted to barter for their services. The woman looked as if she didn’t have a lot of money and most of the villagers paid for their charms and potions with food, parts of their harvests and some game that might otherwise wind up on the dinner table. Sometimes, they would bring her rarities or clothing, some trinkets, whatever they had that could be parted with, but most often, it was food. So, the sisters always had plenty and were willing to share.

             
Sara had taken the potion from the woman with a warning also.

“
Never drop it and throw it far.” With strict instructions on its use, Sara divided the potion into the appropriate amounts. She hadn’t honestly thought it would work and she had no need of the potion, but, she was curious. So she had divided it and sealed each measured amount in a vial. That night, one of those vials of bright red liquid had saved her life.

For three nights, she had fought off the beasts, until thankfully, she had found the barrier spell, but just like
the potion she carried with her as she rode towards the bridge, its supply was also nearly depleted.

The wood
s around her were dark when she felt the mare begin slowing. She dug her heels into its side, and leaned forward to urge it on, but it fought against her, throwing its head back and whinnying. Her hands tried to keep hold of the reigns, but she was so off balance she could barely stay upright as the horse began shifting violently, right then left. All she saw was a blur of gray against the black backdrop of early morning as it streaked into the path. The mare reared and sent her tumbling backwards, to the ground. Frantically, she reached for the small satchel at her waist and gripped it tight to keep the contents from falling.

Never drop it
. The woman’s words rang in her head as she made contact with the ground.

Sara rolled as she landed and sprang to her feet. When she looked around, the mare was still rearing and jumping, trying to turn around and run from the beast barring the path. She ran as fast as her feet would carry her
and when she hazarded a look back, she could tell the mare had finally bolted. She grabbed the potion and threw it at the wolf. The sound of the explosion echoed throughout the valley and caused a ringing in her ears. She had never been able to actually kill one of the beasts, but the explosions had so far scared the beasts away.

This one ran also. Sara took off
running and didn’t look back as she cut through the woods, desperate to get back home, her quest forgotten. She breathed heavily as she ran, bumping into limbs and brush, twisting over roots that wound like snakes over the terrain. She clutched hold of the vial as she ran and never even saw the wolf; when it crashed into her, the vial shook free from her hand and went sailing into the air. As she fell and rolled down the hill. The explosion sounded right over her head, but she knew that was impossible.

When she came back up
and onto her feet, the wolf was there once again. She had no potions left; her satchel had been lost, somewhere along the way. Despair began to overtake her. The beast crashed into her and she rolled around its body like a ragdoll she slammed into the ground, her wrist taking the full weight and force of the impact. Pain shot up her arm, but unbelievably, she found her feet.

****

              Victor moved through the small morning hours, making his way through the trees, over the hills and rocks and down the rugged path twisting eerily in the predawn light. He had never been in these woods before, but he had already seen signs of the beasts. They marked their territory well. Since his first encounter with the beasts, he had been hunting them. Occasionally, he would find one or two and dispose of them if he could. Left alone, the beasts would flourish, killing whole villages while adding to their numbers. In those cases, he would enlist the help of survivors. Victor had found that his arrow might be special, but any silver through the heart of the beasts would be a mortal wound. Otherwise, they were immortal; fire only deterred them and ordinary weapons posed no threat at all.

             
He had heard of the village he was destined for from a traveler on the road and had to see for himself, the village that withstood the onslaught of such a large pack of werewolves. It was said that witches could cast a powerful barrier to protect from the wolves, but Victor wasn’t sure he believed any of it. But then, there was
Ice
. That was what he called the arrow. All his arrows now had silver tips, but none were like the one the old woman had given him.

             
Victor used the low hanging limb of a tree to help pull him up the rise. When he reached the top, he squatted, pulled a canteen from his pocket and drank deeply, the water cool as it flowed over his parched tongue. So far, he had managed to avoid any of the stragglers, those wolves who pushed past the night and into the morning just before dawn. He would need to keep his wits about him, if he was going to see daylight. He stood up and fixed his canteen to his side. He checked his weapons, patting his body for the multitude of blades he kept on his person and as he began the descent, a loud boom broke over the air, coming from somewhere in front of him.

             
Cautiously, he went down the hill, picking his way with care, careful not to make any noise. When he heard the second blast, he also caught a hint of an orange glow and he picked up the pace, unsure of what he would find over the next rise.

****

             
Sara could feel her heart thumping wildly in her chest. How she had managed to make it so far, she couldn’t know. She scrambled over the rocks, her dress catching on the underbrush, snagging and ripping the fabric to shreds. Her wrist ached wickedly; it had crumpled under her weight when the beast rushed at her, knocking her violently to the ground.

             
Somehow, even though her wrist had screamed in pain at her to stop, she had rolled over and regained her footing. The huge wolf paced in front of her growling and snarling, yet she could see its movements were wary, as though somehow it had cause to fear her. She wanted to run, but her body felt frozen in place. She had once seen a river freeze solid before her eyes. She remembered the way the whitecaps of the rapids seemed to stand still.

             
Sara shook her head as she clawed her way over the rise and down the small ravine on the other side. Those weren’t her memories.
But, they seem so real.
She couldn’t be losing her mind, not at that moment, not when the whole world was going to hell. Just as she was about to half-roll, half-fall, down the next hill, she heard the low warning growl of the wolf; it had circled around and met her face to face. It was playing with her. Sara felt bile in the back of her throat rise up to accost her taste buds. It was foul, the taste of terror. She forced herself to swallow and met the yellow eyed gaze of the wolf, which was about to kill her.

             
“You don’t know who you are, do you?” the wolf said, the human words sounding strange and foreign coming from the beast. Sara could not form a reply, unsure if what she heard was really what she heard. She watched as a smile ran along its line of teeth. It crouched low and the growl in its chest rumbled deep. When it lunged forward, Sara could not believe how quickly her body moved at the danger. She threw herself backwards, down the hill she had just climbed. As she fell back, she watched the wolf leap at the spot she had just occupied. She reached out and let her fingertips brush the wolf’s underbelly as it leaped over her and she heard it yelp.

             
Her back hit the hillside and rocks bit into her, she tucked her head and rolled, grasping with her hands and digging in with her feet, trying desperately to stop her uncontrolled descent. Her dress was her personal enemy as she tumbled down, her body beaten and chaffed against the rocky hillside. She was trying to remember how high the climb had been up that hill and wishing she knew where the wolf was, when her head slammed into a rock and her world went white.

****

              As soon as Victor reached the top of the next hill, it was just in time to see the girl. She had her back to him and it took him a moment to register the beast. Quickly, he grabbed an arrow and brought up his bow in one fluid motion. Along the shaft of the arrow, he watched the scene unfold and as the girl fell backward, the wolf lunged forward. Victor loosed the arrow, sending it straight into the beast’s heart. He watched as the girl tumbled down the hill, the dead weight of the wolf following quickly behind her.

             
He flew down the hill as he watched her limp body come to a stop at the bottom; the beast lying crumpled at her feet. When he reached her, he bent over her and made sure that she was breathing. Her dress was torn and heaped around her and she had scrapes and bruises along her arms. One wrist looked freshly swollen. He tilted her head back and studied her and an odd sensation crawled through his mind.
I know her
.