The Sorceress (3 page)

“It's about your appearance.”

“What about it?” Jen was no fashionista, but she was neat and clean.

“First of all, I've been gracious enough to allow you to select your own wardrobe. Many women of my stature would insist that the nanny wear a proper uniform…something that identified your status. But, I'm not that rigid. Besides, I think it helps relax Ethan when you're dressed in regular attire. But your hair! Now that's an entirely different matter. Why does your hair always look so frizzy and unkempt? Can't you do anything with it?”

“Uh…” Jen stammered.

“You really need a perm.”

A chemical relaxer was out of the question. Jen's mother had warned her against perms and had instilled in her, at a very early age that relaxed hair fell out at the root and never grew back. Jen's wild, wiry red hair had always been a cross to bear for her and her mother. But her mother had taken on the hardship of maintaining Jen's wild red forest of hair without the assistance of chemicals.

Even now, at age twenty-one, Jen's hair was still an issue. She didn't know how to take care of it. She was lousy at blow drying. Or maybe she was too lazy to hang in there, with her arms aching while she raked through her mane, blow-drying until every strand was bone straight.

Hair salons were too expensive for her measly nanny salary. Besides, the luxurious look only lasted a day or two. The best she could do was keep her coarse tresses restrained with jumbo-sized hair clips and scrunchies.

“Uh…next payday, I could make an appointment and go to a salon to get it blow-dried—”

“Blow-dried?” Catherine scoffed. “You need a relaxer.” Catherine caressed her own lustrous and chemically relaxed hair and returned her gaze to the paperwork on her desk, silently dismissing Jen.

Jen tried to exit with the shred of dignity she had retained, making purposeful steps toward the door. But her feet somehow got twisted up in the hand-woven, Savonnerie rug, and she stumbled before she made it out of Catherine's office.
Shit!

ROANOKE, VIRGINIA

O
ctober 1st, four weeks until Halloween, but the Stovall family was already feeling the holiday spirit. The entire downstairs was ornamented with spooky decorations: flying bats on lamp shades, scarecrows propped in corners, black cats and Jack O' Lantern candy holders, witches, ghosts, and goblin figures were attached to walls and drapery. Skeletons dangled from hooks on the ceiling. The lighting was dim; appropriately mysterious. Creepy organ music played in the background, accompanied by sounds of creaking doors and a witch's laughter.

In the parlor, Kali gazed at herself in the antique mirror. Illuminated by the soft glow of the chandelier, her reflection seemed authentically grown-up. Kali twirled and preened. Standing in high heels, posing with the parasol that complemented her Belle of the Ball costume, she shifted it from one shoulder and then to the other.

Dripping in diamonds and other precious gems, Kali enjoyed having an opportunity to show off her accessories—special trinkets from a collection of vintage jewelry that she and her father had unearthed on the family property.

The sparkling bangles and bracelets that adorned her wrists tinkled together, playing a festive tune. She waved her hand,
watching the diamonds encrusted in gold shimmer and dance as they caught the overhead light.

A sudden dark shadow blurred Kali's reflection and she felt the first niggle of fear. Bewildered, she stared at the mirror. A face, hazy at first, slowly came into focus. A woman's face appeared in the mirror next to hers. Kali gasped and dropped the parasol.

Appearing confused, the scary woman whipped her head from left to right and then jerked it up and down. Her eyes, an unusual shade of blue, zoomed in on Kali. Her cobalt eyes grew wide with disdain as they roved furiously over every piece of jewelry that adorned the young child.

The witch in the mirror glared at the strands of pearls that hung from Kali's neck. Kali trembled so badly, her bracelets clashed and clanged as she clutched the pearls; her frightened eyes locked on the ghastly image in the mirror.

The woman was a ghost…a witch, or something equally awful and unnatural, Kali was sure. The evil woman stared at Kali with such malice, the child shrank back in horror. “Mommy!” Her voice came out in an urgent whisper.

“Did you call me, Kali?” her mother called from the kitchen.

“Mommy!” she managed to shout this time.

“Yes, sweetie? Do you need something?”

“Mommy, come quick!” There was panic in Kali's voice.

Ajali Stovall sprinted to the parlor. “Kali, what's wrong?”

“There's a…there's a…”

“A what?” Ajali rushed over to her daughter.

“A mean lady is in the mirror.” Kali pointed at her own reflection; her voice quivered in terror.

Ajali squinted at the mirror.

“Do you see her?”

“I only see you and me.” Comfortingly, Ajali caressed Kali's terror-stricken face.

Kali noticed that the moment her mother's hand came into focus, the witch bared her teeth and shot a hateful glance at her mother's wedding ring.

The sight of the ring on Ajali's finger prompted the witch to snarl and gnash her teeth. Then she formed her mouth in a way that seemed to hurl harsh and threatening words.

Glowering in full-blown rage, the witch's dark face grew larger and closer, filling the mirror until her gruesome likeness appeared to be superimposed over Kali's and her mother's reflection. Over and over, the witch's mouth opened and closed, as if shouting obscenities.

“Mommy!” Kali's voice pitched high in terror. Stunned, her eyes were riveted to the horrific image in the mirror: a witch spewing a litany of unheard slurs.

“Honey, what's wrong?” Ajali pleaded, stooping down to her daughter's level. Worriedly, she followed her daughter's fearful eyes to the mirror. “There's nothing in the mirror, Kali. Only you and me.”

The monstrous woman's lips became still and then stretched into a bitter smile. Standing wobbly in her mother's high heels, Kali's legs quacked. The witch nodded at Kali, a knowing gesture that was so gut-wrenchingly menacing, Kali was certain she was going to lose balance and topple out of the heels.

Remarkably, right before her eyes, the witch's face began to crack into tiny pieces, a sight so appalling that Kali clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling a scream.

Ajali peeled Kali's hand away. “Sweetheart,” she whispered, intent on keeping her voice calm and steady. “This isn't like you at all. What's wrong?”

Kali kept her horrified gaze fixed on the mirror as she witnessed the shattered face of the witch whoosh and swirl and then vanish from sight. The child blinked in disbelief. The only trace of the witch was a shade of darkness that hovered, dimming the chandelier's glow.

“Sh-she's gone,” Kali whispered, still trembling with fear.

“Who's gone?”

“The…the witch in the mirror. Her face broke apart and then she disappeared.”

“Kali, honey. No one was in the mirror. Look!” Ajali pointed at their images. “See, honey. There's no one there except you and me.”

“She was in there, Mommy. A wicked witch. I'm not making it up. I couldn't hear her, but I think she was calling me names.” Kali began to sob.

“You're scaring me, sweetie. This isn't like you. I've never known you to be afraid of anything.”

Protectively, Ajali hoisted her four-year-old daughter on her hip as though she were a baby. Looking cautiously over her shoulder, she treaded toward the sofa.

Ajali sat and positioned Kali on her lap, and then pressed her daughter's head against her heart. “Listen to me, sweetheart,” she said, gently rocking Kali. “Wanna know what I think? The dimmed lights cast shadows. I think you saw the reflection of one of the decorations and it really spooked you.” Ajali waved her arm, motioning toward the numerous Halloween decorations.

“There is no such thing as ghosts. Whatever you saw was simply an illusion,” Ajali insisted, but her words gave her no solace. In fact, she felt a trace of shame at the hypocrisy of telling her
daughter such a bold-faced lie when she herself had come face-to-face with pure evil. Had battled for the lives of her future husband and unborn child. Ajali knew firsthand that there were alternate realties—worlds unseen that indeed existed.

She drew in a deep breath as she tried to find words to strengthen her case against the reality of witch's and ghosts. “It's the beginning of the Halloween season. At this time of the year, we're bombarded with frightening images on TV…” She glanced around the room. “And right here in our home.” Ajali made a sweeping gesture. “Ghoulish characters are everywhere.”

Kali cut off her mother's explanation with a look of sympathy. “You're right, Mommy.” She patted her mother's back as if Ajali were the child who needed comforting. “I guess it was my imagination.” Bravely, Kali bit down on her bottom lip. “I know there's no such thing as ghosts.”

Ajali cradled Kali tighter.

“I'm not a baby,” Kali remarked embarrassedly. She wiggled free and eased off her mother's lap. “Witches and goblins are make-believe.” She rose to her feet and steadied her balance in the high heels. “It must have been a shadow.” She laughed, but the sound that she made was more like a fearful cry than jollity.

A sudden and strong feeling of sorrow grasped Ajali's heart and gave it such a hard tug that, for a few terrible seconds, she had to struggle with the urge to burst into tears. Her precious, overly-mature daughter was pretending to be brave in order to protect her mother from knowing the depth of her fear. Ajali didn't know what to do.

Kali had seen something dreadful in the mirror and though Ajali was as terrified as her daughter, she didn't want to feed into needless fear. Eris was gone forever. She couldn't hurt them. Ajali had watched her burn…she'd witnessed the evil entity's demise.

With the help of the warrior goddess Kali, Ajali had personally cast Eris back to the Dark Realm. Could Eris have once again broken free? Ajali felt an icy gust at the back of her neck. She shuddered.

“Are you okay, Mommy?” Unusually intuitive, Kali was particularly sensitive to her mother's mood.

“Yes, sweetheart. I'm fine,” Ajali answered quickly, though her thumping heart disagreed. She smiled reassuringly at her daughter, struggling to keep her face composed.

Should she mention any of this to her husband?
No!
she thought adamantly. The ordeal with Eris had sent both she and Bryce to hell and back. A discussion about Eris would upset the balance of their happy home.

“Kali, if you see that scary lady again, or anything that frightens you, don't be ashamed to tell me.”

“Okay,” Kali responded, her finger making its way to her mouth. It hurt Ajali to the core to see her daughter chewing nervously on her finger.

THE DARK REALM

“Thief!” Eris shouted and shook her fist. “You stole my jewels, you detestable little crook!”

A swarm of depraved souls, who were confined in the bleak environment where the sun, moon, and stars had abandoned the brown-streaked sky, believing Eris' accusation was aimed at them, went scurrying and shrieking into the shadows of the forsaken place.

But Eris was not referring to the any of the wicked spirits confined in the Dark Realm. She was ranting at the thieving Stovall child who had suddenly and miraculously come into her third-eye view.

The pompous brat was masquerading in apparel fit for the mistress of a plantation. But what had really sent Eris into a fit of rage was the audacity of the little rascal to stand, admiring herself, while wearing Eris's precious jewelry.

Centuries ago, when Eris was cast out of the Goddess Realm and down to earth, she was expected to learn humility by assuming the guise of a slave. Eris was not interested in learning lessons or returning to the Goddess Realm contrite and repentant.