The Demon of Annwn

By Ruty Aisling

A young woman is destined to become Banriona, Queen of the Witches, but she must also face the Demon of Annwn, from a netherworld where time and space are endless. Will Arianrhod survive the rite of ascension and defeat the demon or will her soul be trapped forever in the depths of the Annwn . . .

Crom-Cruach screamed from the triangle. Tonight, he was certain he would have her. The Tuatha fawn. He had been so close, so many times. Now he was determined to have her no matter the price. He streaked across time and space searching for her, reaching out to her, to the place that Peter was leading him. Then he saw it. A light, glowing like a beacon from an ancient hilltop. Through the Abred he descended, his great dragon claws reaching out.

She was there, naked, mating in ritual with a man. The glow swirling around them was intense as Crom-Cruach sought to snatch them both. His claws slashed against the circle as sparks of light shot out into the astral. He couldn’t get through! The Tuatha Asarlaí! He screamed in frustration and then circled round again. He had to have her. He would break through the wizard’s wall!

Suddenly he heard it. A noise like a distant rumble that seemed to come from everywhere and yet nowhere. It grew louder, closer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kephra Publications
• Release date: Aug 2, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465998378

Ruty Aisling

The Aislings live deep in the mountains of New Hampshire and have had a lifelong interest and involvement in the magical Arts. They enjoy writing both non-fiction and fiction. Their non-fiction is carefully researched and draws from their lifetime of diverse experience. Their fiction is based on actual myths, legends and magical practices with just a touch of high fantasy and romance.

Book preview

Book One of the series:

Banriona - Queen of the Witches

Published by Kephra Publications at Smashwords

Packaging by Kephra Publications

Cover Art Copyright by Jan Richter | Dreamstime.com

Copyright 2011 Ruty Aisling

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This book is a work of fiction in a contemporary setting. Therefore names, characters, places, brands, media and or incidents portrayed within the work are solely based on the authors' imagination or are used fictitiously. As such any brands, trademarks or products are used fictitiously and without permission, authorization and/or endorsement by the trademark owners.

CHAPTER ONE

Arian sat bolt upright in the bed. She was in a cold sweat as her cotton T-shirt clung to her skin. Her breathing rough and ragged.

Not that same stupid dream again? came a man’s voice, jarring her back to reality.

Yes, Tom, it’s that same dream I keep having, she said.

She looked over at Tom, his dark brown eyes staring at her in a look of frustration. He was a handsome man. Thirty years of age. His dark, tousled hair framed the chiseled features of his face.

Looking up at her he said, You really need to go see somebody about this . . . a shrink maybe. Isn’t this the third time in as many weeks that you’ve had this dream?

I really don’t want to talk about it, Tom. Not right now, she said.

Arian got up and walked to the bathroom. Switching on the light she splashed cold water on her face, then looked into the mirror. She was a woman in her mid-twenties. Tall and slender, her deep blue eyes staring back at her. Brushing the long blond hair away from her face she looked hard at the image before her.

What was this dream? What was it trying to say?

Maybe I am going nuts, she said softly to herself.

It always started the same way. She would find herself deep underground in a large chamber carved from the living rock, standing on a platform made of stone. All around this was a channel of water, perhaps ten feet wide. Beyond the channel twelve alcoves were cut into the granite. In each of these the glow of lamp light shone against the silhouette of what appeared to be a semi-nude woman. In the dream it was hard for her to tell, but it appeared that each of these ladies were wearing a thin, almost transparent gauze, pleated dress. Then a low chant slowly filled the chamber and an ancient song reaching back to a time before recorded history could be heard. Each of the women, representing a different hour of the night, took up the song.

In this dream Arian would find herself wearing a simple white band of cloth around her head and a beaded necklace with a counter weight that rested gently between her slender shoulder blades. Other than this she was completely naked. Yet while she was aware that this was herself in the dream, her appearance was different. She had long black hair and her skin was an olive-tan. All of this was very different from the fair complected blond that she actually was.

As the song continued to rise and fall, it seemed to be in an ancient language that she had never heard. Yet, during the dreaming, she knew the meaning of every word that was sung. Slowly her own voice would join the chorus of women as they continued to chant:

"Come to your house,

Come to your house!

Oh Pillar, Oh Osiris,

Arise in Life!"

At that moment an intense feeling would fill Arian. An energy that was strangely erotic and yet almost otherworldly would come over her and with it a sense of power and dignity. It was almost as if someone or something else were taking over her body. Standing on the platform, surrounded by water, deep within this hidden underground chamber she felt as if the very pulse of life were flowing through her. Every nerve was alive with feeling and sensation.

Before her there was a large stone coffin, a finely carved sarcophagus, resting on the platform with her. In this coffin lay a man with his eyes closed, his arms crossed upon his chest.

From all appearances he seemed to be dead. Yet there was something about this man that was strangely familiar. He was a handsome man who looked to be about her age. She knew this person, or perhaps she realized that she should know this man. Still, deep in this dream, she just couldn’t figure out who he is. Like her, he was tan complected and lean. He had a strong build, square shoulders, and well-defined muscles without being overly proportioned. And like her, he was nude.

Still the song continued on, rising in volume and tone. The whole chamber was alive with energy as Arian would find herself succumbing to the ecstatic current that had been evoked. She continued to look down at the figure in the coffin as the voices chanted:

"I am Shentayet, Mistress of the Golden Seed.

I am Isis, Queen of Mystery and life!

Arise Oh Pillar,

Come to your house,

Arise in life Osiris!"

Four times the chorus was sung. Each time becoming louder, stronger, reverberating throughout the stone chamber. In the dream, looking down at this beautiful but seemingly dead man, Arian would realize that as the ancient invocation continued, his penis had been steadily becoming erect, rising as a pillar from his groin.

Arian felt herself filled with desire as the song that was the ancient incantation of life continued on, its energy filling the room. The energy was almost tangible as Arian’s sexual tension mounted, growing more and more. A tension that cried out for release. Thin beads of sweat glistened over her as she found herself glancing to look at the face of the man. Even in deep sleep Arian had the sense that she knew this man, or should know him, but she just couldn’t place him. Then suddenly, staring at the face, his eyelids would snap open! It was then that Arian would jerk awake, always at that same moment in the dream.

She splashed her face again with cold water. Maybe Tom was right. Maybe she did need to go see a doctor. Secret chambers with weird Egyptian rituals, bringing the dead to life, what could it mean? Maybe she had just been working too hard. Still, the dream was so real, so vivid. And she just couldn’t shake the feeling that she somehow knew the man in the dream, but from where?

Perhaps it meant nothing. After all, it was only a dream. Still, her Grandmother, whom Arian was very close to, always told her to listen to her dreams.

She used to say, You’re special Arian. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. You see things, and hear things that others don’t. You know things that others can’t begin to understand. Arian felt a sudden pain of home sickness and the desire to see her Grandmother again.

Despite the lateness of the night Arian felt strangely invigorated. She couldn’t help feeling a sense of the erotic, even life-giving pulse that flowed through the woman she had been in the dream. The sexual tension that had begun was still very much with her and she needed a release. Arian pulled off her T-shirt and panties, dropping these to the floor. Switching off the bathroom light, she walked back to the bedroom where she knew Tom would be waiting.

Tom was an investment banker living in a spacious apartment in downtown Boston. The two met at a party held by their mutual friend, Sara. Right away Arian was struck by Tom’s strong lean form, dark eyes, and handsome face. His hair was black and he wore it in a traditional business cut that most men do who hold positions of executive power. He was older than her by a good five years, and had a certain maturity about him that was lacking in the men she dated in the past. Most of them were younger guys just out of college. While they had been fun, many lacked any sense of maturity or stability. It seemed that they had all been looking for the next good time. Tom didn’t come across like this at all. Rather, he was a bright, but serious person seeking to make something out of his career.

It wasn’t long before the two began dating, taking long trips up the New England coast in his Mercedes. They spent many romantic weekends at bed & breakfast inns in Marblehead, Portsmouth, and Ogunquit. Each were coastal towns set along the Atlantic shoreline with small antiques shops and fine restaurants. All were places that Arian would not normally be able to afford on her own. It was a fun and romantic time for her.

Still, there was something lacking in their relationship. For Tom work and chasing after the elusive dollar was everything. While Arian did appreciate the finer things the world had to offer, she also had a deeper sense that there was more to life than just creature comforts. Sometimes it felt to her that all Tom truly sought were money, success and status. As the months rolled by Arian sometimes wondered if she wasn’t just another one of Tom’s fine possessions which he surrounded himself with. Another trophy that announced to the world that he truly was on his way to the top.

But tonight none of that mattered. Standing naked in Tom’s bedroom she could still hear the song from her dream running through her head and with it the same sexual pulse was now surging through her. She couldn’t recall ever hearing the tune before, only in this recurring dream. As the song ran on in her mind, she could feel a change come over her. Like the dream, it seemed that something ‘else’ was taking over. She felt alive, a part of all that was deep and real; aware of the very force that drives nature to create.

Standing at the foot of the bed looking down at Tom’s form under the sheet, she began pulling it away slowly, gently, revealing his naked body.

Tom looked up and said, You feeling all right? You look different?

In fact, for a moment he hadn’t recognized her. She seemed to have changed. In the dim light of the room it almost seemed as if her entire appearance changed. Rather than the light skinned, beautiful blond he had come to know, she seemed darker, perhaps even tanned, and her hair appeared to be a silky jet black. Tom rubbed his eyes and refocused on the form before him. However, now he saw Arian once again as the beautiful blond who made him look so good to friends, family, clients and above all his bosses.

He couldn’t say that he was in love with her. But standing there naked, at the foot of his bed, he couldn’t help but be taken by the sheer beauty of her form. She was slender and tall, with long blond hair that softly formed a curve around her face and gently flowed down over her shoulders to cup either side of her breasts. His eyes followed down to her flat, toned stomach.

Her legs were long, strong and feminine, reaching from her feet gently upward to the well formed, firm curve of her buttocks. Lying there he couldn’t help but reminisce about the many times in the past year that they made love.

Yet, he wasn’t in love. Far from it. He thought to himself, Love is over rated and doesn’t get you anything. But, Arian was one of the most sensual, erotic and beautiful women he had ever been with. She was a perfect choice as a wife to have at his side as he climbed the corporate ladder in the world of high finance banking.

Slowly Arian crept onto the bed, her tongue steadily moving up the inside of Tom’s leg. He could feel her warm, moist breath on his skin as her tongue reached the inside of his thigh. Arian gently brushed her silky hair over his groin, building the anticipation that both were feeling. She moved upward, her full breasts hanging over Tom as she gave him a long, hard, aggressive kiss. He was surprised by the intensity of her passion. She seemed different, more forceful, more sensual than ever before. Tom reached down to cup her breasts, feeling the hard nipples in the palms of his hands. His right hand then slid down over her naked body, across the small of her back and gently down the natural valley formed between her cheeks.

Arian tingled with excitement as Tom’s hands slowly moved over her, caressing her skin. Then his fingers found their mark, sliding gently but firmly inside her. Arian let out an audible gasp.

Positioning herself over Tom, she lowered herself onto him. At first there was a slight resistance as he pushed deep inside, Arian’s muscles grasping his shaft with a strength that at once both surprised and delighted Tom.

Arian began to rise and lower, up and down, then switching to a back and forth motion. Faster and faster she moved, changing the pattern but following the same movements.

As her passion mounted, she could feel Tom beneath her thrusting his hips, his hard shaft throbbing inside her, as his hands worked their way down her back and caressing her buttocks. She knew he was close to climax, but she didn’t care, riding him harder and harder.

As her own passion mounted and she could feel herself getting closer to orgasm, it seemed as if the room began to fade away. Waves of sexual ecstasy coursed through her veins, ever building toward that final desired moment. Arian was losing all sense of time and space. Rather, she seemed to slip back into the images from her dream.

Once again, she became aware of the lamp light in the underground chamber, while the sound of the ancient chant reverberated in her head. As the love making continued her hair, swaying back and forth to the rhythm of her motions, appeared to change from blond to black. Looking down, her breasts appeared tanned, and she seemed to not be in bed at all. Rather she found herself riding the man she had seen in the dream, in the middle of the circle of water, atop the granite platform! And all the while the chant continued:

"Res Em Ankh!

Res Em Ankh!

Res Em Ankh!"

At that moment Tom let out a long low moan of pleasure as he throbbed deep inside Arian. His hips bucked while his hands firmly grasped her. Still she could hear the chant rising louder and louder, when she realized that it was coming from her! She was chanting the incantation out loud while riding Tom!

Arian was suddenly jolted back to reality. She tightened her hold on him. In doing so her own orgasm came flooding over her as waves of pleasure, one surge after another. She threw her head back, arched her back and let out a cry of ecstasy that echoed off the walls of the apartment bedroom.

She collapsed on top of Tom as the room fell silent.

Then slowly, almost cautiously Tom spoke, That was incredible, but what were you yelling? It sounded like some foreign language.

I don’t know Tom. I really don’t know, exclaimed Arian. It was like I was in that dream again.

Maybe you do need to see a shrink, especially if you are having trouble telling reality from fantasy, Tom said.

You can be such an ass! Arian thought.

Suddenly she got up. It’s late and I need to be to work early, she said as she dressed and gathered her things.

But I thought you were staying over tonight? argued Tom.

I just need some time alone, she said. I’ll call you in the morning.

CHAPTER TWO

Just over one hundred miles northwest of Boston a man and woman stood on the porch of an old stone cottage nestled deep in the New Hampshire woods. It was a one-story building with walls made of massive granite blocks. Over the years the original wooden shutters were eventually replaced with leaded windows while those in the kitchen were slender, frosted glass with Celtic swirls. The roof was vaulted stone and thatch which was regularly maintained. A wide porch wrapped around three sides of the building, partitioned off on the far side for privacy. The huge stone blocks that framed the door were decorated with the same Celtic swirls. Granite steps led from the path to the porch before the main door of the building.

The autumn moon shone bright, casting a silver iridescent glow over the clearing where the cottage stood.

It was a good meeting tonight, said the man casually as he slipped a pipe from his jacket pocket.

Unfolding a soft leather pouch he pulled a pinch of fine tobacco and gently packed the pipe. Several times he checked the draw before striking a match. His face came into view under the momentary glow of the small flame. He was a middle-aged man with greying hair that had once been blond. Dressed in black pants, a knit black shirt and a dark jacket; he was a striking figure who could appear quite imposing when he needed to.

Yes Henry, it was a very good meeting. I haven’t seen the Murias this strong in a very long time, said the older woman as she looked out into the indigo night sky. Still there’s so much more to do.

You’re right of course, replied Henry.

Though an elderly woman, Henry couldn’t help but notice that she retained an elegance and beauty that seemed timeless. She was tall and thin with long grey hair which she wore proudly. A strong and confident woman; a true New Englander with wisdom that most would never know, and a stubborn streak in her that was legendary. Yet, she was also kind and well loved by many in the community. And while she was in fact a Grandmother, most people in the town of Whitewood fondly knew her as Grandma Julie.

Still, there were some, a small handful of people, who were jealous of her standing and long family roots in the community. They had moved into the small town and hadn’t taken to its odd traditions and customs that reached back to the days of the original families who settled here. The Old Ways seemed quirky and out of step with contemporary society. These newer members brought with them a desire to set Whitewood out as another higher class New England village where only people of the right social standing and proper bank accounts could live.

Towns like Bedford, Peterborough, Sunapee and Hollis were the envy of most small villages and these newer members of Whitewood envisioned their town as having the potential to be among these affluent communities. Yet the original families, the ‘Founding Families of Whitewood’ as they referred to themselves of which Julie was the head, sought to keep things simple and as they were in the past. The Founding Families had old traditions, very old, extending back through the centuries.

Living close to the land, Old World customs mingled with practical New England values forming a rich but simple way of life that, to the newer members of the town, seemed to be holding Whitewood back. No, these newer members of the community were not fond of Julie and her Founding Families of Whitewood. Yet, it was the members of the Founding Families who owned most of the land in the area thereby controlling the direction that the town would take.

Julie’s was an old family. They immigrated to America in the early 1600's. Seeking a new life they sailed from the British Isles, settling in what is now Danvers, Massachusetts located just outside of present day Salem. In the late 1600's the entire community, including Danvers was known as Salem Village.

They had always been a private family keeping their personal affairs to themselves. So, when the infamous ‘hysteria’ of 1692 erupted they decided that it was best to not get involved. Rather, amidst great secrecy they quietly packed their belongings, abandoned their farm and headed northwest taking their chances in the wild territory far away from the more ‘civilized’ and settled coastal communities of the time. There, the Danann family carved out a living deep in the woods of the Connecticut Valley of western New Hampshire on land that was granted to them by Henry Hobart, the fourth Baronet of Intwood, England. It was here that the cottage was built nearly three hundred years ago.

For generations the Danann family kept this place and the surrounding woodlands just for these small, monthly meetings. Only a parcel of eighty acres a half mile west of the cottage was used by the family for farming. The rest of the three-thousand acre land was kept pristine and wild. Julie Danann lived in the old house on the family farm. But each month, at the full moon, she and the other members of the Founding Families made the trek into the heart of the woods to the old Danann cottage.

Julie was the matriarch of the Danann clan; a direct descendant of the family who crossed the Atlantic. She presided over the meetings with a timeless dignity, inner wisdom and a strength that was never questioned. Herne, or Henry as he was known outside of the Murias, the inner circle of the group, was her only son. Her daughter died while giving birth more than twenty-four years earlier.

You know Julie, you’ll have to call her back soon, Henry said.

Julie looked up at Henry. Of course you’re right. Her time is quickly approaching. In fact, I just sent her a letter the other day inviting her up for the holidays.

Do you think she’ll come? Henry asked.

Of course she will, sighed Julie. Arian always comes when I call her. After all I am her Grandmother.

It was getting late. Too late. Julie thought to herself. The moon had passed its zenith and was slowly moving toward the west.

I need to be going, she said softly.

Let me walk you home, said Henry.

You’re sweet, but no, you still have work here to finish, Julie said.

Henry looked at Julie with a concerned stare.

Don’t you worry about me, I’ve been walking these woods at night long before you were born, I’ll be fine, Julie quipped.

Well, after the deaths of those two hikers last month . . . his voice trailed off.

"Henry, they were flatlanders who didn’t know a thing about this land, Julie retorted. Besides, I have my revolver with me, just in case."

He knew that it was no use trying to talk her out of it. Once Julie’s mind was set there was no stopping her.

Henry kissed his Mother goodnight. Then, with a quick turn, Julie switched on her flashlight and headed down the path toward the Danann family farm. Henry watched as her light faded into the woods as he thought to himself, what a remarkable lady. She had held the Murias together for more than forty years. However, they both knew that her own time was running short.

Still Julie was strong as ever. Living alone after her husband’s death, she devoted most of her time to cultivating the herbs in her garden and brewing holistic remedies which she sold in her own local shop in town, Dagda’s Cauldron. Henry turned and walked back inside the cottage.

Julie proceeded down the path she had taken countless times before. She pulled the grey wool cloak close in an effort to keep the brisk October air from creeping in. The fall leaves crunched beneath her feet as she made her way along the path.

It was a goodnight, she thought to herself. With the moon so clear spirits ran high among those attending the meeting. Still there was the certain knowledge that the group lacked one essential ingredient. Julie longed to see her Granddaughter. She longed to see Arian again.

As these thoughts passed through her mind Julie crossed over the Old Stone Brook, a landmark and natural boundary that separated the heart of the Danann woodlands from the rest of the terrain. She was half way home, when suddenly she heard something . . . a crack, just off to her left. It could be anything, she thought to herself - the wind through the trees, a deer walking by. There it was again . . . another snap! But this time she also thought she heard a low growl, or maybe a snarl.

Julie was raised in these woods. She knew every sound that the animals made here. There was something different about this. Something almost sinister in the way the sound was made. She felt nervous, as if she were being stalked as prey. Whipping her flashlight around in the direction of the sound she saw . . . nothing. Except for the slight sigh of the chill night air whispering through the trees there was no sound. The woods had fallen silent.

She continued down the path. Soon she would reach the stone fence that marked the boundary of the farm, and not a moment too soon, she thought. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was following her.

Moments passed when, once again, she heard the low, drawn out growl of some kind of animal. But this time it sounded as if it were ahead of her. It wasn’t the sound of a coyote. Those she knew well. No this was more cat-like and big. Under the moonlight she caught a glimpse of movement on the path ahead. Slowly Julie reached for her revolver as she shone her flashlight ahead.

A form came into view partially shadowed behind some low evergreens giving Julie a start.

Oh it’s you, she said almost breathlessly, you gave me quite a fright. What are you doing out here at this time of night? I almost shot you! Julie looked down as she replaced her revolver in its holster.

Looking up again, she was shocked to see that the person whom she thought she had seen was no longer there. Now, instead, stood a huge cat. This was no bobcat. It was large. Larger than even the occasional wolf that wandered these woods. Quickly she realized that she was staring down a mountain lion. It was all muscle, with a sharp yellow coat that almost glowed in the moonlight. The creature’s fangs glistened as it let out a low growl. But what caught Julie’s attention most were its eyes. The eyes were sinister in appearance. They glowed with an otherworldly hunger and an anger that seemed surreal. Still, there was something about the eyes that she recognized. Those were his eyes!

There was no time to think. The creature began advancing on her, step by step. Julie flashed her light at the creature in an effort to blind it as her other hand made a feeble attempt to reach for her gun. In that split second it seemed to Julie that the light passed through the creature as if it weren’t solid, and yet, it was there . . . advancing on her with a viciousness that she had never seen.

Before she could make another move the creature was on her, ripping at her flesh. She could feel nothing but searing agony. Then her life force slipped away and with it the pain as her body succumbed to the savage onslaught of the cougar.

CHAPTER THREE

The morning dawned with an overcast sky as a hard October wind whipped the fall leaves down the streets of Boston. Arian was making her way to work walking from the ‘T’, Boston’s train system.

Arian had landed a job as a legal secretary with a large firm downtown. Not being assigned to any particular attorney, she worked in a pool of eight women who performed much of the clerical grunt work without getting any credit. They were treated like property belonging to the firm and she really didn’t care for the job that much. Still, it paid well and she did enjoy living in Boston. At least initially she did.

The museums, the theater district, the North End restaurants, and the night clubs in Cambridge and Harvard Square all appealed to her when she first moved to the city. But now it was getting old. The pace of life was a little too fast, a little too crass, too materialistic. Her small three-room apartment was over priced and the commute through the city was brutal. Tom came along when Arian was just beginning to feel like it might be time to move back home. She was missing the mountains and forests of her early youth. Pulling her coat tight against the cold, her thoughts reached back to the events of the night before.

After she left Tom’s apartment she felt strangely invigorated, this despite, or perhaps because of the intense lovemaking earlier. Still, she was angry and confused. Arian was mad at Tom. It seemed that all he thought of her was as a sexual pastime and a pretty trinket to keep on his arm to impress his colleagues and bosses. Still, last night, it was she who used Tom. After the dream she was so aroused, so full of desire. No, that wasn’t it at all, Arian thought to herself. Rather, she had the overwhelming need for sexual release. And what a release it had been. She never felt more alive than she did during those final moments leading up to their climax.

Yet, what the hell was going on? What was that strange dream? And, why did it continue when we were making love? It was almost as if she had slipped into some kind of trance.

Tom’s reaction to all of this was a casual, go see a shrink. He seemed so callus, so unconcerned. Rather than show any interest in her feelings his only response was the equivalent of, you must be crazy!

Maybe she was being too hard on Tom she thought. Maybe he hadn’t realized how hurtful his comments were. Arian wasn’t crazy, that much she knew. But the persistent dream and its continuation during last night’s sex really had her shaken.

Then later, about an hour after leaving Tom’s place a sudden sense of pain followed by sadness swept over her. She had the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Something had happened, but she wasn’t sure what. All through the morning this feeling of foreboding remained. Maybe this relationship was getting to her.

Just days before Arian received a letter from her Grandmother inviting her up for the holidays. It was a long time since Arian had been home and she was looking forward to seeing Grandma Julie again. And, of course, Arian would go. This, despite the fact that Tom would object. He hinted at taking Arian out west to Aspen for Christmas. But there was something about the letter from her Grandmother that seemed important, even cryptic in the way it was written. Grandma Julie made it sound as if she wanted to discuss something of great importance but she didn’t say what, all the while coaching the letter in talk of the season’s many winter festivals which were to occur in Whitewood. Arian hoped that all was well back home.

The law offices of Shaw, Johnson & Callahan were located on the fifth and sixth floors of a steel and glass tower just blocks from the Pru, the Prudential Building, which had become a business icon dominating the Boston skyline.

Arian arrived at her work station early. Nancy, one of the other women in the research pool, was out so Arian knew there would be extra work to be done. Settling in with coffee in hand she began the arduous task of going through case files, typing notes and otherwise preparing legal briefs for the attorneys on staff.

Her small cubical contained a desk, computer, two chairs and a small bookcase for reference materials. On her desk she kept a photograph taken six years earlier. Arian was eighteen at the time and was visiting her Grandmother in Whitewood while on a break from college. The visit coincided with the annual spring festival held by the town. Each year, as was the custom, one lucky young lady was chosen to represent the Queen of Spring. That year it was Arian’s turn.

The photo captured the festive mood of the occasion. Arian was dressed in a beautiful green gown trimmed at the hem and sleeves in gold. Her long hair hung down beneath a wreath of flower blossoms. Standing next to her, looking so very proud were her Uncle Henry and her Grandmother. Except for his rich head of flaxen blond hair, Uncle Henry was dressed entirely in black. He had always been like a Father to Arian, especially so as she had never known her real Father. Her Father left before Arian was born. She was told that her Mother had a torrid affair with a young man from Europe, however, they had broken up and he returned home. It was shortly after he left that her Mother discovered she was pregnant. So it was Henry, whenever possible, who stepped in and became a guiding force in Arian’s life. Although he traveled extensively for business, Uncle Henry never forgot her birthdays or other special events in her life. Grandma Julie was more than happy to raise Arian as her own daughter.

Arian looked down at the silver bracelet that wrapped around her left wrist. It was a beautifully intricate piece showing a series of delicate spirals curving back onto themselves. The maze-like pattern worked its way to a smooth silver center on which, engraved in an eloquent script, was her name, Arianrhod, followed by the simple title, Silver Circle. Grandma Julie and Uncle Henry had this custom made special for the occasion, presenting this to her at the crowning festival. And, as they asked, she wore it always.

"What are you day dreaming about?" came a man’s harsh voice.

Arian looked up with a start. Standing in her cubicle was Mr. Shaw, or as he preferred to be known as Mr. Stanley Edward Shaw, Esq.

Mr. Shaw was a senior partner in the firm. He was a man in his mid-fifties. He was short, overweight, with black hair that was obviously dyed. Though he would deny all of these. What he lacked in size he tried desperately to make up for in an overbearing attitude. In fact, most people in the firm feared him because of the power he wielded over their paychecks.

While Arian was impressed by his intellect, she felt that the way he treated other people showed that he was a petty, self-centered, pathetic man. An asshole. Still, there was no question that he was a damn good lawyer.

What are you day dreaming about? he demanded again.

I was just thinking of my family back home, replied Arian.

Look, we don’t have time for that, he said. You can take care of family matters on your time, not mine!

His face stern with anger he continued, My secretary is out. I need you to get me the Henderson file, now.

Mr. Shaw that was being handled by Nancy, replied Arian. It will take me some time to find it.

Shaw looked at her with a hard stare.

I don’t want excuses, I want results! he demanded.

Arian could feel the anger welling up inside her as she replied, I’ll get on it right away.

Shaw turned to walk away but then stopped and turned back. Oh, he remarked, be a dear and go down to the coffee shop on the corner and pick me up a medium black coffee.

Excuse me, sir? replied Arian. I’m not sure I’m following you.

Shaw looked hard at her, his face set with an authorative scowl, You heard me, and while you are at it check with the guys upstairs. I’m sure that they’ll want something as well.

Arian could barely contain her anger. She wasn’t about to be humiliated by this little dictator.

Stanley, she said firmly.

No one called Mr. Shaw by his first name only except perhaps his Mother, his wife or his mistress.

Arian locked eyes with Shaw and said, "With all due respect sir, this is not the 1950's and I’m not your Mother nor am I your maid. If you want coffee, you go get it!"

Shaw was shocked. No one said ‘no’ to Mr. Stanley Edward Shaw, Esq. No one!

Miss Danann is it? he said looking down at the name plate on her desk.

His voice became low and venomous as he continued, "Miss Danann, unemployment is currently at just over ten percent. How would you like to join their ranks?"

Arian’s temper grew with an ever greater intensity.

She could feel her face flush with color as she replied, Mr. Shaw, are you telling me that my career here is contingent on getting you a cup of coffee?

The air crackled with tension as the two held each other’s gaze in a glowering stare. Just then there was a sudden burst as the fluorescent light directly above Shaw exploded. Glass showered everywhere covering the shocked attorney. Everyone in the room stopped and looked up. Mr. Shaw was angry and embarrassed.

Fine, he said. I’ll get someone else to get the damn coffee! he growled as he stormed away.

Then over his shoulder he yelled, Would someone get maintenance up here to clean up that mess!

In the next cubical Sara Gooding popped her head up looking over the divider barely suppressing her laughter.

What a jerk he was, Sara commented. I can’t believe the way you stood up to him. Sara continued giggling.

Arian looked up at the petite brunette.

Someone had to! replied Arian as she swept the glass off her desk. No one should be treated that way!

I think you made yourself an enemy today, Arian. But you’re right, he treats everyone like crap, replied Sara with a glint in her brown eyes. That was amazing how the light just exploded right at that moment.

It happens all the time, replied Arian. When I get mad things happen; lights break, doors slam, walls crack, cars break down, sometimes people even get sick, she went on, it just seems to happen when I get really angry.

I’ve heard of people like you, Sara stammered. They have natural ‘abilities’ that only come out when they’re upset or emotionally keyed up. Have you always been this way?

Yep, as long as I can remember, answered Arian.

She looked around at the broken glass, then back at Sara who was still giggling and she had a little laugh herself.

Say Sara, what are you doing for lunch? You’re into psychic stuff - new age things.

Sara nodded.

Arian continued, I’ve been having this weird dream, over and over. And I don’t know what to think of it.

Sara gave her a quizzical look and replied, Tell me about it.

I will at lunch. It’s a little too personal for here, Arian answered.

As the morning dragged on Arian still couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible happened but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. Just then her cell phone rang. It was Tom. She promised to call him but time had gotten away.

Hi Tom, she said. I meant to call you but I’ve been flat out this morning.

That’s all right, he said. Are you okay?

Yeah, I’m okay, Arian said. I just needed some time to think.

I’ll bet! Tom blurted. After all that weird chanting, you had me pretty scared. I thought you’d wigged out on me girl!

Arian could feel her temper rise.

Tom, I’m not crazy, she said in a sharp tone.

No, I’m not saying you are . . . but you have to admit it was pretty kinky chanting like that as we were both . . . his voice trailed off a bit, peaking, he continued.

Look Tom, it was late. I was tired. Somehow the song from my dream just popped into my head, Arian said with exasperation in her voice. Besides you weren’t doing any complaining were you?

No . . . No, Tom stuttered. You were fantastic. It was just, well . . . weird.

There was a long silence.

I just called to remind you that I’ll be by at seven tonight to pick you up, he said.

What? Arian said.

Don’t tell me you forgot! Tom exclaimed. The bank’s appreciation cocktail party. Everyone will be there; clients, trustees, the entire board of directors . . . For Christ sake, even the Mayor is going to be there.

There was a silence.

Tom then said coolly, Arian, I need you to be there. This is important! It could make or break my career!

Arian thought to herself, How could I have forgotten? She hated these kinds of events, but she knew how important this was to Tom.

Oh yes. Of course I will be ready, she said.

That’s my girl, Tom said in a mock fatherly tone. So seven it is then. Oh and wear that red dress . . . you know the one that makes everyone do a double take when you walk by?

Arian knew exactly the dress he meant but she didn’t like being talked down to like a child, nor being told what to wear.

Rather than start a fight she just