In Defiance of Death

By Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

After Jack Mitchell and Jim Lyon destroyed her covens and ‘killed’ her, Master Witch Laurie Nevins has revived in the body of a fifteen-year old girl, Mary Beth Bonney. Bent on revenge and her ultimate goal of opening the portal between worlds of man and demon, she begins the creation of new covens to do her bidding.

In the process, she forms an unlikely partnership with another Master Witch, Yvette DuBois, who also shares an unpleasant history with Jack Mitchell, known as The Witchhunter.

While training her covens, the young witch discovers that one of her coven members has lycanthropic tendencies; she is a werewolf. Protected and aided by the gigantic beast, the young witch plots her revenge on Jack Mitchell and his wife by kidnapping their daughter for use as a sacrifice to open the portal.

However, Mary Beth discovers some undesirable ‘human’ emotions that came with her new body. She develops strong feelings for a young man. These new emotions confuse the witch as she pits her inhuman desires against internal human emotions.

Jack and his wife, Denise team up with the Private Investigator, Jim Lyon and Flame Vasquez again to save his daughter before the witches can sacrifice her and destroy the fabric that separates the worlds of humans and the demonic.

Responding to Jack’s plea for help, Jim and Flame reunite months after their battle against a serial killer in the Wichita storm drains. Most of their experience is with the darker side of humanity and not with the supernatural.

Each person faces the crisis in their own way, drawing on unique experiences and skills to help in the battle against evil.

Through the course of their encounters with each other, Jack and his team find themselves forging an uneasy alliance with the young witch in an effort to thwart the Master Witch, Yvette DuBois, who does not suffer from human emotion.

Jack and his friends must battle two powerful satanic witches, multiple covens, and a werewolf in order to save his daughter.

While experienced at dealing with Satanists, Jack has no experience with werewolves and becomes involved in a fight for survival against a vastly superior and tenacious physical predator.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP
• Release date: Oct 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781466004764

Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

Ronald Goulden has written novels and stories for thirty years. Having served in Viet Nam as a Translator/Interpreter, He quickly adapts to new cultures and sees a story or an adventure everywhere. He has ‘dabbled’ in witchcraft, though he is not a witch. All of his novels and stories have interconnecting threads that link them into a larger universe, spanning space and time. Some of the links are obvious, while others are very subtle. Some of the events in the stories are based on real life, while others are pure fiction. The distinction between fact and fiction is up to the reader. Having studied witchcraft many years earlier, it had always been in my mind. When I became an IT Director for the Farm Credit bank system in Wichita, I observed the ‘power’ a small group of ladies expressed over others in the bank and their general disdain for many of the men. I had also researched the BTK Killer during his spree and developed a program that allowed me to ‘predict’ his next attacks. As such, I saw the potential for violence in anyone. After being treated rather rudely by the band of bank beauties, I decided to write a story to explain their odd and overbearing personalities. Using newspaper stories and personal experiences, I settled on baby sacrifices and Satanism. While the personalities and physical attributes are based upon real people I knew at the time, their involvement is this story is purely fiction. There are many ‘links’ in this story to the other novels I’ve written over time, essentially building an alternate universe.

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In Defiance of Death

Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2011 Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover design by rebecacovers

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilog

Other Books by Ronald Goulden

Preview - Night of Screams

Chapter 1

Months before, Mary Beth Bonney moved to Oklahoma to avoid unnecessary persecution for her religious preferences. There were many people in Wichita who had taken unkindly to her tastes in religion. In fact, she feared for her life. One man in particular led in her persecution, Jack Mitchell.

When she lived in Wichita, she was Laurie Nelson. However, Laurie Nelson died in her late twenties on a cold winter’s night. Now, she was Mary Beth Bonney, a lovely girl in her middle teens.

In the quiet towns of Oklahoma, she had found a new breeding ground for her needs. "Children rebel against their parents, and much of Oklahoma is deeply religious." Consequently, she had found an unlimited supply of willing rebels for her cause. Being considerably younger than she had been, she freely associated with the younger people, more susceptible to her manipulations. However, the knowledge and wisdom she carried was ancient.

She had the advantage of nearly thirty years of feminine experience packed into a luscious teen aged body. She could and would use sex as a weapon and as a tool. She had begun using it to build her coven. Few men or women could resist her temptations.

She was a lovely young lady willing to share her body with the men who could give her what she wanted. And those men were willing to do as she commanded. As such, she quickly dominated the social life of the teens in and around the small town. Her mature mind gave her an edge over the men she wanted. And she had a decided advantage over any woman who sought to oppose her take over of the town.

Using her sex, she had easily dominated the young men she desired for her covens. She also dominated the men of power and influence in the same fashion. I need to find suitable young women who can balance my covens and ultimately take command of them for me. I want to build a coven consisting solely of coven leaders. That’ll provide an adequate base with which to begin building my empire.

Once satisfied that the men were suitably under her control, she began suggesting that they bring other females into their group. After all, while I enjoyed having six men, they should have the opportunity to have more than just one woman. So she cultivated the men’s interest with visions of group sex and seduction, appealing to unspoken fantasies and desires.

"I know from experience and arcane teachings that sex provides a powerful incentive for young people to become involved in Satanism. Sex is merely a tool, something to be used for my advantage; enjoyable as it might be."

"I’m very particular about the girls or women I select to join my ranks. They all have to be extremely lovely. In other times and other places, I’d learned the advantage of surrounding myself with women whose beauty challenged my own. The resultant collection of beauty provides an air of mystery that pulls others under my influence."

"The women must be of above average intelligence and not dedicated to a career. I’ve learned that women without a career are often more easily seduced into my web of influence. The very beautiful and very intelligent women are the ones who most often became disillusioned with marriage and seek outside excitement."

The six men who had fallen under her spell had brought nine young ladies, ranging in ages from thirteen to twenty eight. All were exceptionally beautiful and intelligent. At the time of their recruitment, none of them suspected what was about to happen to them. That’s the condition I’d imposed on my men... they can’t divulge my plans. Of course, none of them really had any ideas as to what my purposes really are.

The chosen ladies collected at Mary Beth’s apartment on Friday night, under the pretext of having a lingerie party. They expected to purchase risqué clothing for entertaining their men. And, indeed, Mary did have the party, enjoying the feel of the women’s eyes on her perfect body.

In her transfer, she had retained her exhibitionistic tendencies. I know that all of the women here are bored with their current lot in life. I’d taught my men how to identify the ideal woman for my purposes, women who needed excitement; sexual and otherwise. None of the women questioned how a sixteen-year-old could live alone and have an apartment.

"I can provide excitement through Satanism and satanic influences. I can also provide continued sexual diversions that brought most of the women to me. In fact, that’s the next step in building my coven. I have to determine who in the room can endure the influences I’ll inflict upon them."

"First, I need to identify who’ll be receptive to the concept of Satanism."

She returned from her bedroom, currently doubling as a dressing room. This is a particular favorite of mine... it’s very ‘witchy’; but very sexy. She wore a white, satiny cloak and cowl, styled much like that worn by Friar Tuck in the old Robin Hood movies. The difference was that this silken robe clung tightly to her form, accentuating her flawless shape. The light gown was very sheer, leaving no room for question about any of her features. It was a very sensual piece of clothing.

One of the ladies responded, That doesn’t look ‘witchy’ to me. It’s white... It would be more ‘witchy’ in black or maybe red.

Mary Beth flipped the cowl over her head and looked over shoulder at the woman, striking a pose. I can get it in any color you want. It doesn’t have to be black to be ‘witchy’. Being a witch is a state of mind. If you feel and act like a witch, then you are a witch. She smiled coyly, having thrown the gauntlet down, waiting to see who would take the bait. The color is a personal statement. Don’t let Hollywood dictate your style for you.

A thirteen year old picked it up, That’s right. There’re all kinds of witches... black, gray, and white. Still, they’re all witches. She glanced at Mary Beth for confirmation and approval.

Mary smiled pleasantly as she responded to the girl’s statements. Yes, there are different classes of witches. Like Erin said, there are white, gray, black as well as other colors. However, you must remember that the ultimate function of Satanism is to serve Satan. The witches who claim they are good merely delude themselves. She glanced at her audience. True power comes from Satanism; why delude yourself about the source of power?

She paced as she talked. Even if a white witch never hurts anything and actually helps others, she’s still serving Satan. The forces of Satan collect and store the energy and power she releases with her good spells. Even ‘white witches, the Wiccans; aid Satan by altering the flow of power within the universe.

She stopped pacing and glanced at each of the ladies in turn. Therefore, if a person is going to practice Wicca, or Satanism, she might as well get the full benefits of the craft. A person should seek the dark arts, because they’ll eventually seek them out. The black arts are the source of true power.

Another woman spoke up, You don’t really believe in Satanism and witches, do you?

Mary glanced at the woman with an appropriately surprised look on her face. Why, of course I do. Only a fool would deny it.

For the next few minutes, the conversation abandoned lingerie and focused on the occult; which was exactly where Mary Beth wanted it. As she listened to the debate, seven of the nine women defended the existence of witches and Satanism. A few of them even went so far as to recite insignificant occult experiences they had endured.

After many minutes of spine chilling tales, the two dissenters stood up and excused themselves. They were uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. Those remaining titillated the others with their tales.

Mary Beth allowed them to talk for many hours. Then, as the conversation began to dwindle, she asked, Can you keep a secret?

Waiting for nods and murmurs of assent, she began, I used to be a witch. I had three covens and we ran Wichita. We could do as we pleased because of our Satanism and our beauty. All of my witches were... are beautiful, just as you all are. It was wonderful.

The obvious question came, If it was so wonderful, why did you quit? Why leave and come down here? You’re way too young to have done that.

She smiled, having anticipated all of the questions, I came down here because of health reasons. Wichita had become unhealthy for me... with the smog and all. And there was a madman up there who would not leave me alone. The police advised me to move away for a while. But, who said I ever quit being a witch? Being involved with Satanism has preserved my youth. Would you believe I am well over thirty years old?

Did this guy stalk you because you were a witch? What did he try to do?

He wanted to rape me. I had him arrested once and after that, he wouldn’t leave me alone. He made my life miserable for a few months. Mary Beth had no qualms about altering the truth to meet her needs.

She continued her tale. Toward the end, he discovered I was a practicing witch and he tried to use that as an attack against me. He stirred up a few of his friends against me, including my best girlfriend. So, I decided to leave the covens in the hands of my seconds in command. We all know what it’s like to have some jerk who thinks he’s God’s gift to women bothering us. Several of the women murmured agreement.

Just out of curiosity, what was his name? One of the women asked.

His name was Jack Mitchell. She managed to conceal the rage and uneasiness that the mere mention of his name generated.

Another woman interjected, obviously intrigued by the prospect of Satanism. What kinds of things did you do as a witch? I mean, did you stand around a black cauldron and boil bats and newts and things or what?

Mary laughed at the picture that the woman painted, Oh no, that’s the Shakespearean version of witches. That picture of witches is entirely false. Satanism is a way of thinking and using the natural sciences of the mind and nature to achieve your desired effect. Satanism is a religion and a magnificent source of power and personal satisfaction.

She knelt on the floor in the circle created by the women. Think of the weave of this robe, she held the hem of the gown up with splayed fingers revealing her youthful femininity in the process, as being a web. Now, at each junction, every place two threads cross, is a person or an event. With that in mind, any person or event in the web can contact or influence any other person. They can affect others with the proper application of... the appropriate influence. You’ve all heard of ‘six degrees of separation’?

She pinched one area of the robe and tugged slightly, moving much of the robe. This is a very imprecise illustration... but, by applying pressure here, I can cause an effect at other portions of the weave. See how other parts of the robe shift at my touch? This is basically what Satanism does; it applies an influence at one point in the web of life. That influence affects another point which may be apparently unrelated to the first point. The more skilled the witch, the more subtle the influence she can bring to bear.

One of the women cocked her head and asked, So what are you saying?

What I’m saying is that I can control anyone or any event, given the proper stimuli. And I don’t even have to be present to do it. You’ve heard of curses, the evil eye, and voodoo dolls where the magic affects another person? Well, this is the concept behind that magic. The cause is very easy to achieve; the subtlety of control is more difficult.

The woman shook her head, I still don’t follow you.

Mary Beth sighed, "I expected them to have difficulty understanding these concepts; these concepts are foreign to standard teachings and doctrines."

Ok. I’ll use an extreme example here to make my point. Let’s say there’s someone I want to kill for some reason. Now, I can kill this person by walking up to him and shooting him with a gun. You’ll all agree that if I shot someone, I’d have a profound effect on their life. But that would be a very clumsy and imprecise way to kill someone. Everyone would know I did it, I’d go to jail. I wouldn’t enjoy that and it wouldn’t be an elegant solution to my problem. That’s hardly a subtle solution.

She paused, Let’s suppose that I’ve learned an elegant way to kill him. Let’s say I made him think he’s madly in love with me and that he can’t live without me. We can all relate to that. We’ve all had guys with ‘crushes’ on us. Now, I’ve got this man hopelessly in love with me and I’m ready to kill him. How do I do it? I simply drop him in such a manner that he’s shattered emotionally. Then, I drop hints to him that I might fall back in love with him if he attempts to take his life. Finally, he takes the hint and he dies, probably leaving a flowery suicide note lamenting the loss of me. Now, he’s dead but I don’t go to jail. Of course, everyone’s down on me for the way I treated him and drove him to suicide.

That’s a little more subtle than just shooting the man, but hardly elegant. She paused while that idea soaked in. She watched several slight nods of beginning understanding.

Now, let’s assume there’re several men I want to kill. Obviously, the suicide method would be inappropriate for dealing with more than a few men. Sooner or later, word would get out and no man in his right mind would come near me. I don’t want that; men do have their uses. She smiled broadly as she leered suggestively.

Several of the women giggled at the thoughts racing through their minds.

Mary Beth continued with her lesson. So, now, I have to learn how to manipulate a man in such a manner that no one knows what I’m doing. How do I do it? I go back and refine my abilities to manipulate the web of life. Once I’ve mastered that, I can do what I want without having to worry about anyone or anything. At that point, I become immortal and untouchable.

She noticed some looks of skepticism from a few of the ladies. Most of them just let the comment pass by, thinking that Mary Beth had been speaking in a philosophical sense.

She had prepared for both reactions. You think I’m just talking, just rattling things off the top of my head? Well, I’m not. All I’ve told you tonight is the fundamental basis of Satanism. It’s not like you read in books, but as it really exists. Satanism is the manifestation of natural energies as they happen every day, all around us. Death brings a great release of energy and so does sex.

Several of the women laughingly agreed.

Sex is a vital source of satanic energy. Upon consummation of sex, the partners release a great deal of emotional and physical energy. Witches have learned how to tap into some of this energy. The phrase, ‘...the earth moved...’ literally has a basis in witch lore.

She paused, evaluating the faces of the women around her. Why do you think more women are witches than men? Why are women more successful in Satanism? It’s because they don’t reach orgasm as quickly as the men. Consequently, a witch can have several men in a session... drawing energy from them for her own purposes.

One of the women, Ann, spoke up. We all agree with a lot of what you’ve said about sex. Yet I’d have to see something to convince me you’re a witch, you’re just a child. Ann was in her mid twenties. It’s a bit difficult to believe that you ran three covens and did everything you claim.

Mary Beth smiled at the thinly veiled challenge, basically the woman was saying Put up or shut up.

What can I do to convince you of the reality of Satanism and its power? She stood, looking down at the seated women. I suppose you want something spectacular, like what you’d get in a Hollywood movie? Most people tend to believe the spectacular, even though it lacks realism.

She walked into her kitchen and returned with a common, metal dinner knife. Handing it to Ann, she said. Take this knife and do whatever you want to assure yourself it’s a real metal knife, not a prop. Let the others also do their confirmations. When everyone accepts that it’s real; Ann, take it back and balance it across the inside of your wrist.

Mary paced the room for the few moments as the women tested the knife. They banged the knife on the table and made feeble attempts at bending the dull steel knife. Finally, Ann placed the knife across her wrist, signaling she was ready for her to convince them of her satanic abilities.

Mary Beth prepared for her demonstration. Now, traditionally, iron is a bane to any kind of magic. And centuries ago that was true. Yet, the witches had to evolve so they could continue to practice and survive in a world filled with iron. By the old standards, I could do nothing because of the vast presence of iron in the near vicinity. However, I’ve learned how to overcome such problems. Everyone watch the knife. Ann, it may get a little warm, but don’t worry, and don’t move your arm.

Mary Beth waited until all of the women watched the knife with differing degrees of attention. Then she raised her arms above her head theatrically, feeling a churning in her mind much like a physical movement of her brain and heard Ann’s scream of surprise.

In front of everyone’s eyes, the metal knife appeared to soften and fold around the woman’s wrist like a bracelet. The folding was as gentle as the touch of rose petals. Then the metal solidified into its new shape. Ann found herself wearing a bracelet newly formed from the knife. She lifted her arm toward her face hesitantly, as if she expected the knife to leap from her wrist. How did you do that?

Mary smiled mysteriously, snapped her fingers, and whispered, Magic!

"I’m quite pleased with the effect. In the months since I’d transferred my mind to this new body, I’ve discovered new and exciting abilities. I’m considerably more powerful than when Jack Mitchell killed me that winter’s night, months ago."

In disbelief, all of the women touched the altered metal. It was slightly warm to the touch. The thirteen year old, Erin, voiced her opinion, It’s just ESP or something. It isn’t really magic. I saw a guy bend forks on television once.

Mary Beth smiled ruefully, I was afraid that simple display wouldn’t satisfy you. How about a more spectacular display; like lightning from my fingertips?

"I can’t actually generate real lightning from my fingertips. But, with my newly acquired mental abilities, I can make them think I can."

She raised her arms above her head in a theatrical pose; waiting until she was sure that she had everyone’s attention. She closed her eyes and began visualizing and exercising her mind. Again, there was the roiling in her mind and the almost physical sensation of her brain pulsing within her skull. This time, the sensation did not pass. She knew from the exclamations of her guests that her effect was working. She opened her eyes and watched as the women dodged the huge bolts of lightning flowing freely from her fingertips.

She allowed herself to enjoy the show as well as the ladies, envisioning the bolts circling the knot of women and weaving into their midst. She did not worry about hurting them because the lightning existed only in their minds. It projected from her thoughts and into their receptive minds. Nonetheless, the effect was stunning.

Finally, she ceased her mental efforts and lowered her arms, the bolts slowly faded away. She allowed a few random flashes to flow along her arms and down her body, just for effect. I want them to believe the bolts did come from within my body. I want them to think I really controlled a barely controllable force of nature.

In the silence that followed, she asked, Well? What do you think of Satanism now?

The women were stunned. Eventually, Ann spoke up, Ok, I’m convinced you’re a witch. Is this something we can learn? The woman waved her hand in the air to indicate the lightning display. That was pretty spectacular.

Mary Beth smiled in satisfaction. Yes, but you can learn it only from me. I’m the only one I know of who’s learned how to control lightning. Still, I don’t know if you have what it takes to go through the training. Once you start, you can’t quit, no matter what happens or what I ask you to do. Do you all understand? You’ll have to learn how to crawl long before you fly. The training takes time and effort. Failure can cost you your lives, or more.

As a group, the women nodded their heads in agreement and commitment.

Inwardly, Mary Beth allowed herself a smile of satisfaction, her planning had worked flawlessly. All she had to do was consummate the agreement. Wait here and we’ll begin.

She quickly walked into her bedroom and returned with a crystal tray with an ornate dagger and a silver goblet. She knelt among the women, setting the tray and its contents on the coffee table.

She glanced at the clock on the wall; it read two thirty eight, almost the witching hour.

To begin learning the ways of Satanism, you must first offer yourself to Satan... like this. She lifted the dagger from the tray. Then, she pinched a small lock of hair in the fingers of her left hand. She deftly sliced the tiny patch of hair from her head. She handed the knife to Ann as she placed her patch of hair in the bottom of the goblet.

One by one, each of the women repeated young girl’s actions. When the knife returned to her, she said, That was the painless part, now comes the important part. She extended her left index finger for the women to see. Then she placed the tip of the dagger against the finger and dragged its razor edge across the member. A bright flash of blood appeared immediately. She placed the finger over the mouth of the goblet and milked the blood as she passed the knife to Ann. With a great deal of hesitation, the other women followed suit.

After each of the women repeated the act, the small goblet was one fourth full of blood. Mary Beth stood up and said, I’ll go get you some bandages.

She carried the goblet with her into the bathroom. She returned shortly with the bandages and a nearly full goblet. None of the women asked where the rest of the blood came from. Mary Beth glanced at the clock as she sat down; there were still a few minutes until three.

After each of the ladies had ministered to their self-inflicted wounds, Mary announced what most of them had dreaded. We each have to take a drink of our mixed blood at the stroke of three, the witching hour.

Erin queried, But, I thought the witching hour was at midnight?

Mary smiled, That’s one of many fallacies about the occult I’ll clarify for you. Many people think that midnight’s the witching hour because of Hollywood. It’s much more dramatic to have things happening at twelve. That way, the old clocks can chime twelve times, adding to the suspense of the movie. Three is Satan’s number. Three in the morning is when the night is darkest. The true witching hour is three in the morning. That’s why most witch hunters never catch anyone; they’re always three hours too early. I know of only one outsider who understands this.

She picked up the goblet and swirled its contents around, almost spilling the precious contents. She glanced at the clock as it read three o’clock. It’s time. Take a drink of this and pass it to the next lady. We only have sixty seconds. She raised the goblet to her lips and allowed herself a healthy drink of the red fluid. As she removed the cup from her lips, a slight trace of red trickled down her chin. She passed the cup the Ann with forceful insistence.

Ann had a rather green appearance as she raised the cup to her lips. With a shudder echoed by others in the room, she took a sip, swallowing instantly. She drank quickly, lest she have time to think about what she was doing.

Each of the women followed a similar pattern of reaction; Mary Beth forced them mentally any time one of them showed signs of faltering. Finally, the goblet was empty except for the blood-matted hair at its bottom.

Very good, ladies. You’re now and forever on the glorious road to Satanism. You’re bound to each other and to me, through this life and all lives that may follow.

Some of them smiled sickly. Erin asked the question that was on everyone’s mind, How did you fill the goblet? It was only a fourth full when you went into the bathroom.

Witches drink the two profane fluids of the body, blood and urine. That’s part of how I bound you to me. You’ve all drunk both fluids from my body, you are mine... forever.

Like hell. Erin jumped up to leave and froze in mid step, apparently seized by a terrible fit. Slowly, she began walking backwards toward Mary Beth. Her struggles ceased as she turned to face her coven mistress. Forgive me, mistress. She pleaded as she kissed Mary’s hand profusely. The other women looked ill, frightened, shocked, and scared... all at the same time.

Mary nodded and motioned the girl to sit down. Let that be an example to you all. You’re all a part of me now. If you attempt to betray me, you’ll suffer horribly. If you honor me appropriately you’ll have the pleasures of your dreams, and you’ll have power over everyone, except me. You may now all kiss my hand in fealty to me. She raised her delicate hand for their convenience.

"I’m thankful for my newly perfected powers of mind. I can build my covens with fear and mental control, rather than depending upon finesse. I don’t have time to court followers as I did in Wichita."

* * *

Mary Beth slept late the next morning; her lingerie party had dragged on almost until dawn. I’ve absolutely terrorized the women who are to become part of my first coven; once they’d participated in the horror and depravity of my special brand of Satanism. Now, I have to rebuild them.

"I have to overcome years of inbred religious and social beliefs. It won’t be an easy task, but I’m patient and I have the advantage. I know what I’m doing. They have no clue."

Somehow, when she merged her mind into the body of Mary Beth Bonney, her significant mental abilities had become even more powerful than what she knew as Laurie Nevins. She had used those abilities the previous night to convince the ladies of the power of Satanism. The obviously flashy, rather than the subtly effective, influences most people. The effort however had drained her.

When she finally wakened, she felt good in spite of the lingering exhaustion of her body. She threw the covers aside and allowed herself the pleasure of examining her youth. Finally, stretching like a large cat, she slid out of the bed and padded toward the shower.

While the stinging spray attacked her body, she thought about Jack Mitchell and acknowledged that they must meet again.

"Granted, I’m considerably more powerful than when we’d first met. Yet Jack Mitchell seems to have a knack for falling into just the right place at just the right time. He’s proven himself to be a very dangerous adversary."

"When we last met, Jack was directly responsible for my death. He thwarted my plans with astonishing ease. Then too, he did have some assistance I’d not expected. His friends had thrown in an unwelcome element of surprise."

"I want to eliminate Jack Mitchell, but I’m also terrified of the man. He effortlessly destroyed three covens in one night and destroyed my first body. Perhaps the best means of handling him is for me to find another of my kind to team up with, temporarily. Witches of my caliber are territorial and hesitant to join forces with others who might challenge their authority."

"The solution to the problem is to seek out a High Witch from another part of the country and lure Jack to a point midway between our territories. The preferable choice would be a witch who’d suffered damages similar to mine while I was Laurie Nelson. If Jack’s out destroying covens, then there must be others with the same homicidal tendencies. When one destroys a witch’s coven, that person makes an eternal enemy."

She finally turned off the water and dried herself. Returning to her bedroom, she slipped into her robe and dug her Ouija board from the closet. It had been years since she had used an Ouija board. And that occasion had actually been the birth of her as a witch.

"Since then, I’d never felt a need to go to the board for help; I always relied upon myself. I’m the master of my own fate. Sometimes, extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary action. I’m willing to ask for help from the other side." She sat on the bed and placed the board before her, carefully setting the planchette on the face of the board.

While the Ouija board normally worked only with two, she had learned that one gifted person could make it work. She meditated briefly. Give me the name of a witch who’s had her coven destroyed as were mine, by a moral man. She commanded. Without the benefit of her touching the pointer, it danced across the face of the board, pausing briefly at the appropriate letters. It spelled out the name, Yvette DuBois.

Yvette DuBois? Mary repeated the name as the planchette completed the spelling. She paused and wrote the name on a piece of paper.

The planchette danced again, racing to the ‘Yes’ indicator. The device answered her querulous comment.

How do I find Yvette DuBois? She was slightly irritated at the presumptuous Ouija board.

Again the piece of plastic moved, this time spelling out the word, St. Louis.

Where does she live? She queried.

She watched as the pointer moved again, spelling out the reply, That, you have to discover. Good bye. The planchette raced off the board and slammed into the wall.

Mary Beth glared at the planchette in barely suppressed rage. Damned wise assed spirits. They never help you to the solution to your problem. I should be able to locate her. If she’s a witch, I’ll bring her to the surface. All I have to do is convince her that she should help me.

She retrieved the planchette and placed it and the board back into the closet. If I have my way, it’ll be another fifteen years before I need it again.

Having decided on her course of action in regards to dealing with Jack Mitchell, she prepared to leave, dressing in jeans and a tee shirt and slipping into jogging shoes. This isn’t the type of clothes I prefer to wear. However, since I’m in a teen ager’s body, I have to dress as the teens do. I prefer much more provocative apparel. In time, my new associates will mature to the point where I can dress as I please, without fear of alienating them.

Grabbing her purse, she left her apartment and walked to the Mall. "I have some items I need to buy. Since I now have a rudimentary coven, I need to develop some refreshments that’ll ensure their loyalty. I have a small supply of my drugs, but not enough for the entire coven. As Laurie Nelson, I’d been a master of satanic pharmacology. The drugs I produced from readily available sources could have made me a wealthy woman. However, I’ve no inclination to sell them on the streets or share them with mankind."

"Some of my concoctions are powerful aphrodisiacs, while others are capable of curing most ills of the human body. I’m not concerned about curing or healing skills. All of my actions center on the control and possession of others. My mind control drugs allowed me to form and master three covens simultaneously."

"By providing my previous coven members with a diluted mind drug, I kept them under my sway for years. As long as the coven members received a weak dose of the drug regularly, they would be quite acquiescent to my desires. And no one could tell that they were on any type of drug; not even with toxicology scans. In the wrong hands and properly applied, it could conceivably control an entire nation."

"I frequently use an undiluted dose of the drug to subdue my larger sacrifices until the time of the ritual. Right before the ritual, I’d administer a moderate dose of the drug to the victim so they’d be manageable, but conscious. I relish the look of horror in the eyes of my sacrifices as they realize what I’ve done to them."

Mary Beth had been day dreaming about her past victories and accomplishments as she walked, not paying a great deal of attention to the traffic on the streets. As she stepped off the curb, a car turned the corner. She walked directly into the moving car, falling on the hood as the driver slammed on the brakes.

When everything had stopped moving, Mary Beth found herself sitting beside the right front tire of the car. She nursed a slight discomfort where she had painfully banged her arm. Other than that, she was unharmed. Her pride, however, had been shattered.

The driver, a blonde man in his twenties, rushed around the front of the car to check on his accident victim. Are you all right?

She glared at the man from her sitting position, Yes. I’m all right... barely. You should watch where you’re going. It’s getting to where a girl can’t even walk down the street without taking her life in her hands. Mary Beth brushed her hands together to rid her palms of dirt and gravel.

The young man responded to her verbal attack. I was already turning when you stepped off the curb. You’re the one who wasn’t paying attention. You should watch where you’re going.

She was furious; he should be apologetic. "I’m a pedestrian! He hit me with his car, and he tells me to watch where I’m going. The nerve of the man!"

She struggled to her feet, brushing the dirt from her shapely posterior. As she did, she noticed the man openly admiring her body. I’m sure he finds the view enjoyable. She felt familiar stirrings as her attitude toward the man changed. She thought of a couple of ways she could use the man.

I guess you’re right. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t paying enough attention. If your car’s Ok, I’ll just be on my way. She bent over to retrieve her purse, offering the man an unobstructed view of her posterior. She peeked from the corner of her eye and noted that he openly appraised the view.

She stood and turned to face the man. As she did so, she fainted... or at least she appeared to faint. Actually, she just collapsed, trusting to the man’s instincts to catch her.

The surprised man caught the woman who was physically just a few years his junior. He had no way of knowing that she was mentally and emotionally several decades his senior. He did not stand a chance. As she fell, she positioned her body so he would have to catch her rather intimately, which he did. He took his time in moving his hands from those areas.

The young man enjoyed the feel of the woman in his hands. Yet he still worried about a lawsuit. Maybe I need to take you to the doctor.

She shook her head slowly and gazed into his eyes with false confusion. No, if you can just take me to my apartment, I can rest for a few minutes, and then I’ll be Ok. She let herself slip slightly, her lips brushing his. She felt his interest and desire. Please, take me home. She whispered into his ear.

He was more than willing to agree with her request, helping the obviously weakened girl into the