Whispers From the Past: Vendetta

By Charlotte Holley

Whoever said the past is dead and buried never knew the evil wizard Arvashan or his fiendish plan to avenge himself on those who caused all the trouble at the very beginning . . . Liz Carr and Kim Henson find they have only skimmed the surface when it comes to the mysteries of the past and their lingering effects on the present. They are about to learn their lives and those of John Carter and Mark Adams are hopelessly tangled with Arvashan’s in a way they could never have expected.

The four friends, the local priest and the ineffable Benjamin McCann himself, have worked hard to return peace to McCann’s Manor, only to find each step forward has brought ever-increasing repercussions, leading them deeper into Arvashan’s diabolical schemes. Now the ancient sorcerer, infuriated by their success in freeing some of his captive souls, makes his demands, offering Liz an ultimatum she can never hope to accept or live with.

Liz has a few weeks to set her affairs in order and return with Arvashan to the past and a fate she has no memory of, or Arvashan will kill everyone she loves. The situation calls for a level of cunning and skill the friends will somehow have to find within themselves, along with a mastery of magic greater than any they possess, before they can emerge victorious over the ancient nemesis. But there is more . . . much more . . . and they are running out of time . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Jan 31, 2014
• ISBN: 9781619501423

Charlotte Holley

Charlotte Holley has an inborn love of all mysteries and the supernatural, and has been reading and writing about the paranormal for more than forty years. A mass communications major, she has written and published newsletters, magazine and newspaper articles, as well as poems and short stories since receiving her bachelor's degree in 1980. As a beaded jewelry designer, she has also self-published twenty-two pattern collections on CD and in eBook form and has produced almost 400 individual original patterns. Having spent several years as a professional psychic, she has had extensive experience with the spirit world and has observed supernatural dramas that defy all rational explanation. Charlotte uses her expertise and story-telling ability to weave a powerful tale of mystery and horror, of love and deceit and of the overpowering desire of the human nature to make things right.

Book preview

Whispers From the Past: Vendetta

Book Three of

The Actor’s Guild Paranormal Mystery Series

by

Charlotte Holley

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © August 15, 2013, Charlotte Holley

Cover Art Copyright © 2013, Charlotte Holley

Gypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC

Lockhart, TX 78644

http://www.gypsyshadow.com

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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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 eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

ISBN: 978-1-61950-142-3

Published in the United States of America

First eBook Edition: January 30, 2014

Dedication

This book, the third in the Actor’s Guild Paranormal Mystery Series, is dedicated to the people of Bastrop, Texas, who lost their homes, belongings and many of their pets in the Bastrop County Complex Fire. The blaze began September 4, 2011 and continued to burn mostly uncontrolled until September 30, though it was not completely extinguished until October 29, 2011. The fire, which destroyed 1,691 homes, burned 34,330 acres, and killed two people and untold wildlife, pets and plants, is regarded as the most catastrophic wildfire in Texas history.

Prologue—Arvashan

Darkness. Cold, unrelenting darkness so thick it stole her breath was all Liz could perceive, though she strained into the blackness. The entity she knew as Ptarmigan had spoken to her of such a place—a freezing, dark pit where no light penetrated. How had she come here, though? What sorcery was afoot for her to find herself banished to the depths of Ptarmigan’s prison? Or could the darkness, the cold, the feeling of isolation be merely illusion? Surely she wasn’t alone in this place, though she could sense nothing to indicate the presence of anyone else.

She fought to calm her racing heart, slowly drew in a breath and reached her hands out to probe the nothingness in front of her. Hello? she whispered.

Laughter.

Who’s there?

"You know me, Draita, the voice whispered, so near her ear she whirled toward the sound. Remember, my beloved. Remember…"

She forced herself to remain composed, even though the fear of the dark she thought she’d banished years before clamped down on her throat like a fist, threatening to choke off her oxygen. From where in her past did the all-encompassing panic she felt this moment spring? As a child, she remembered all too well, she’d been terrified of the darkness; but she’d believed the dread was far behind her now. She stood still, forcing a deep, ragged breath into her lungs. The darkness does not exclude the air, she told herself. Breathe! Just breathe, and be calm. She heard another soft laugh very close to her as she felt a hand, light as a whisper, stroke her cheek. What a strong, intelligent woman you are, Draita. Her invisible companion sighed the words, more than spoke them.

Against her better judgment, she moved toward the voice and reached for the hand that had touched her, but found herself groping nothing but the velvet, frozen, blinding void. I can’t seem to place your voice, she said, feigning nonchalance. "You call me Draita, but my name is Liz—Liz Carr. Could you have mistaken me for another?"

Again the laugh, the mere hint of a touch on her face as she heard the soft rustling of movement so near her. The voice boomed at her. "What? You are reputed to be such an incredible psychic. Do you expect me to believe you cannot remember your past lives?"

Past— she began, only to be silenced as a pair of unseen hands grasped her shoulders and shook her. The question was the same one Benjamin McCann had put to her only a short while before regarding her lifetime as Constance, yet her reply was still the same, even though the name had changed. I was Draita in a past life? No, I don’t remember. I truly don’t. She tried to pull away from the phantom holding her, but stopped in horror as she realized when she tried to touch the being who held her in his grasp, she again found herself touching nothing. Why, then, did she still feel the viselike grip he had on her? This is insane. She thought for a moment she must be imagining things before she realized she’d been in this place before.

Here in this same abysmal, gelid blackness, she’d spoken to this being several times. It must be a dream she was having—a recurring nightmare, one that refused to let her waken. Wake up, Liz!

No, not this time, the voice roared as the ethereal fingers dug deeper into her flesh. You are gifted, it is true; but I will not let you leave me again—not until you have heard what I have to say to you. Like it or not, you are going to stay and listen to me this time.

You’re hurting me, she said in a low growl. If you want me to listen to you, I can hear you better if I don’t have to strain over the noise of my shoulders screaming in pain. Let me go. I promise I’ll stay and hear you out.

"Such a convenient excuse, that you have forgotten who you are, the voice sibilated. Very well, I will loosen my hold, but mind you this: if you leave me before I finish telling you what I wish to say, I will destroy everyone you love, Draita. Your children, your friends, your lover—all will die, and you will have no one to blame for it but yourself."

Liz shivered at his words, cold as this blackness in which she found herself held captive. Why would you threaten such a thing? she asked as she reached to rub her upper arms and winced from the lingering pain she felt.

"You are very clever, Draita, but know this: I never make threats. I will do exactly as I have said if you try to escape me again. Do I make myself clear?"

Yes, she whispered, "extremely clear. I’m listening."

That is reasonable of you. He spat the words at her.

What do you want?

You, he replied.

"Me? Why?"

"I wonder… Is it possible you truly do not remember who you were? Is it conceivable you could have forgotten me? You were mine; how could you forget me? How could you love that miserable Jonathan bartraol more than you loved me?"

Jonathan bar—John? I don’t know what you mean, she stammered. "Who are you?"

"Has your beloved John even told you how he betrayed you mere days ago with Andaena, while he was away supposedly making the world a safer place for you? Has he told you he made love to your sister?"

Liz was getting more confused by the minute. Her head reeled; her stomach felt queasy. My sister? I don’t have a—

This lifetime you have no sibling, but when you were Draita, Andaena was your sister. You do know her, though you now know the woman of whom I speak as Moira MacPherson, he mocked with a dark chortle. "I take it your precious John has yet to tell you all of his escapades while he was in Gorsha."

Moira? John made love to Moira while he was in Gorsha? While Kim and I were fighting for our lives against that demented maniac—she felt her stomach knot, her eyes stinging as she fought to hold back tears. You’re lying! she said. John wouldn’t—

He laughed loud and hard while she struggled to maintain her resolve not to cry. "Ah, so perhaps you do not know the man as well as you think, my poor, dear Draita. Perhaps he does not deserve such loyalty. That should make it easier for you to do the right thing; easier for you to agree to go back with me."

Go back with you? Where? I can’t leave—

"But of course you can leave. You owe it to me; you were mine until he stole you. I’d have given you the universe for the asking, but you had to go off with the bartraol," he said. I am a greater wizard than he. I always was. Why should he be entitled to have you, as well as the title of the greatest wizard who ever lived?

She felt her body trembling, but willed herself yet again to silence her fear. "I belong here. Even if I was this—Draita—in a past life, I’m Liz now. This is another lifetime," she tried to explain.

You still owe me the rest of your life because you never made it right in all these lifetimes since you chose him over me. You never once felt remorse for the sorrow you caused me, did you? I have waited since the dawning of the world for you. Now you will at last pay with your submissiveness to my will. You belong to me!

I belong to myself, she argued. "I have no place with you, and I won’t go with you."

Willful as ever, I see, he said, his tone growing cold and steely. I realize you will have to have time to think about your situation… and your responsibilities. You have kept your word and stayed to hear my demands, so now I will give you your choices. You will return to your bed and prepare to come to me.

You’re not listening. I just told you—

"No, I perceive you are the one not listening. You will prepare to come to me and you shall tell no one," he restated.

You’re mad! she said.

Perhaps so, my lovely one, he said. "Unrequited love can do that to a man. As I was saying, you are to tell no one. I am prepared to give you the opportunity to say your goodbyes. You see, I can be reasonable; but I will know if you tell anyone of our little conversation, and I will kill them. If you tell even one of them, they will all die. Is that understood?"

Liz stood mute, feeling lost and afraid. How could she tell them goodbye without telling them why she was leaving or where she was going? It was preposterous even to imagine what this man was asking her to do. Is he even a man, or is he spirit? What powers does he have that he could know what I say to others?

I can hear your thoughts, you know, he said as he drew closer to her again, pulled her hair through his fingers and breathed in its fragrance. "I will know, and that fact is all you need hold in mind. Come now, let us be reasonable. Your children are coming for a visit in a few days, are they not? I know you will want to see them before you leave—want to spend the last moments you can with them… After they are gone, I will come to collect you."

"That’s—kind of you, she said through clenched teeth. You’re all heart, aren’t you?"

I think you will find I deal with others with as much kindness as they show to me, he said. "I could kill them all anyway, you know. However, I felt it would be kinder to you if I refrained from hurting them, since I am taking you away from them. I want you to remember your last moments with them as being… pleasant."

Liz considered his comment and sighed. I think I deserve to know your name and how you look, if I’m to go anywhere with you, she said after a moment of silence.

What is the matter? he prodded. Are you afraid I am some kind of hideous demon or something?

The thought had occurred to me, she replied.

Silence engulfed the darkness while Liz waited for what seemed an eternity. Very well, he said, my name is Arvashan.

She heard a sound like the snapping of fingers an instant before a small glowing orb appeared between her and the one who called himself Arvashan. The light, which floated eerily in front of her, began as a dim glow and gradually grew brighter until she could see the face before her. He indeed appeared to be a man, she noticed with some relief; tall and angular with long dark hair and gleaming, cold steely eyes. He moved closer to her and peered so deeply into her essence she wanted to recoil, but she stood firm, staring back at him. He was attractive—alarmingly so—and his eyes slowly swept her form, seeming to appreciate what they saw.

I have waited so long for this moment. Now you have seen me, do you remember?

The words were simple and cool, but she thought she could see past his façade. He seemed to be imploring her to remember, to love him, to surrender to his will. For a moment, she almost wished she did remember, but it was useless. The man had threatened to kill everyone she loved. She straightened and looked at him without emotion, then shook her head.

I—still can’t remember, she replied, "but from what you’ve said, I gather it’s been a very long time since we’ve seen one another. Sometimes I can’t remember the faces of people I met last year. Is it really any wonder I don’t remember someone I knew lifetimes ago?" She hoped her words were not as biting as the ones she wanted to say. Who does he think he is to threaten me? What gives him the right to a moment of my time, now or in the past?

He smiled at her, a smile she was certain he believed was charming and irresistible; and then he bent toward her and kissed her with a deep, hungry passion. She didn’t like it, but found herself completely powerless to resist or to pull away. He gathered her closer to him and deepened the kiss before he finally let her go and stepped away from her, extinguishing the light of the glowing orb and plunging her again into darkness.

I will be watching you, he said with a baleful laugh. You will do well to remember that. If you talk about me, I will know, and I will take the proper steps to assure you regret it for the rest of your life. Farewell, my love…

Chapter 1—The Wizard’s Cat

Liz Carr swam in a dark, unplumbed well of black swirling current that threatened to pull her to the bottom of its unfathomable depths as she fought to wrest herself from the hold of the dream. Terror washed over her, wave upon wave. In the distance, she thought she heard him—Arvashan—still laughing at her, whispering, "Farewell, my love, my love, my… love…"

When she did finally manage to open her eyes, she found herself tangled in the sheets, gasping for air and groping for John. He wasn’t in the bed. She looked about the dim room, but saw no sign of him. John?

Timothy, Benjamin’s cat, chirred from somewhere across the room, padded to the bed and jumped up, bringing his big, gray furry face close to hers, his purr loud and comforting. "You know about him, don’t you? Who is he? Why does he want me to go into the past with him?" she whispered.

The big longhaired feline touched the tip of his nose to hers, the cold dampness of it shocking her senses, as he began making bread on her lap. She hugged him close to her, and realized she was crying. Was it the fear she felt when she couldn’t awaken from her dream, or was it because of the things Arvashan had said about John? How could she find out more about him without talking to anyone about him? Did he really know all her thoughts?

He might, she told Timothy, answering her own unspoken question. "Ben did… He still does, doesn’t he? Or did he give up that ability when he melded with John?" She still couldn’t completely understand what John had told her about Benjamin’s sending his spirit into John’s body at the moment of the transformation of the Gorshans. Benjamin had sacrificed his material being to become one with John. Is that really why he sent you here? Did he know all along he wouldn’t be returning, except as part of John? Oh, Ben… The thought of never seeing Benjamin again, except through John, tore at her heart once more, as it did every time she let it surface. Tears washed freely down her cheeks and onto Timothy’s fur.

At the mention of his master’s name, Timothy looked at her with an expression of knowing in his eyes, and touched her face again with his nose. The cat was uncanny in the way he seemed to understand every word she said. She’d had animals she was certain could understand her before, especially cats; but Timothy—well, Timothy was something else. She could swear it as she looked into his big, soulful eyes—not only did he understand her every word, but he seemed to have the ability to answer her. He was a remarkable cat, after all—a wizard’s cat. He belonged to the singular man who had built this manor two hundred years before for Constance. Benjamin McCann was an enigma she had only begun to fathom: a powerful wizard, descended from a line of wizards dating all the way back into the mists of antiquity.

She sighed and scratched the fluffy cat. "Now see, that’s proof, isn’t it? I mean, if I could remember my past lives, you know I’d remember being Constance. If I can’t even remember that lifetime, how on earth does he expect me to remember being Draita, at the dawning of the world?"

Timothy moved in a tight circle in her lap, curled up and lay in a ball flexing his big claws in the air. He watched her attentively, like a child might watch an adult who was about to tell him an exciting bedtime story.

"Does John really know everything Ben knew now? If he does, we’re in a lot of trouble, because he’ll know about the encounter I just had with Arvashan. It can’t have been only a dream, because why would I dream anything so crazy and twisted? No, I don’t remember him, but there is something… something about him, Timothy. It’s like he’s somehow mixed up in everything we’ve experienced here. I don’t know. Am I crazy? Could he be part of Ptarmigan?"

Timothy stopped purring and peered into her eyes, caught and held her gaze, then sat as though transfixed in her lap, peering right into the depths of her soul—or so it seemed. A spark of light flickered between the cat’s eyes and hers, drawing her to another place and time. She felt herself leaving her body and drifting. This wasn’t like it had been when Kim, Benjamin and she had traveled through the portal. No, she’d had her body with her then… this experience was more like the time when she and Kim had first come to the manor and she’d been drawn into the past to witness Ben writing the letter to Constance, and again when she had suddenly found herself in Ben’s time to see the treachery of David Spencer when Spencer locked Ben and Timothy in Ben’s own vault to suffocate beneath the fireplace.

Where are we going? she asked, though she expected no answer as she felt herself floating over an ancient keep in a land she could swear she had seen before—almost. The familiarity of it tugged at her, making her speculate as she found herself spiraling toward the earth and then inside the rough-hewn walls of the castle proper. She passed through the solid stone, as though it were made of nothing more than vapors, and found herself standing in a great hall, the magnificent fluffy gray cat at her feet looking up at her with an authoritative air.

This way, someone said, and she wheeled to look about the large room for the person who had spoken. The voice was soft and sounded like that of a young man, but she saw no one. Instead, she looked around the room, her gaze taking in her surroundings more fully. Aside from being spacious, it looked much like paintings she’d seen of early European castles, but it was sparsely strewn with crude wooden furnishings arranged haphazardly about the room, like they’d been tossed around in some kind of brawl. Some of the chairs were toppled and one was broken into splinters like it had been hit by an exploding grenade, but she knew grenades didn’t exist in this time—whatever this time might be.

The overall ambience of the room was brooding, dark, damp and about as inviting as a dungeon. Well, are you coming or not? the same soft voice asked with more than a hint of irritation.

I— Liz began before looking around again for the person who addressed her, but it was no use. Show yourself! she ordered, starting to feel a stabbing panic in her stomach. She didn’t think she should be here, nor did she want to be caught in the place uninvited. Finding herself in Peaitarrh’s manor, confronted by Moira, had been quite more than enough for her, and Tarrh’s place had been considerably more hospitable than this one—Moira, hounds and all.

She heard an exasperated sigh and felt something tug at her gown before reality hit her. Timothy was the one speaking to her! He disentangled his paw from her gown and shook his head. She looked down at the cat in wonder, but he hissed at her. Yes, I am the one talking to you. Did you not ask me about Arvashan?

"B-But, Timothy; you’re talking to me." She stated the obvious with an incredulity the cat apparently thought was silly.

Have you not often said if I could talk, what wonders I could tell you?

Well, yes, but—

What did you think? Did you imagine a great wizard’s cat such as myself was incapable of speech? Oh, I have always been able to talk; only you have not always been able to understand me. Just at the moment, however, it seems urgent to make myself heard, he said, walking back and forth, furrowing his gray brow into what could only be considered a frown. Now, will you do me the service of following me, or do I need to explain more to you about how I came to be able to talk?

Liz regained a semblance of composure and straightened her back, then nodded at the cat. Is this place—?

"Arvashan’s keep… yes. And all this time I took you for an intelligent woman. What other vague trivialities may I clear up for you? Timothy asked over his shoulder as he headed for the hallway. I know all about the dastardly Arvashan and the terrible deeds the man is capable of; I was there—er, here—when the foul beastie conjured his spells. I know a great deal more about him than you will want to know, but the time has come for secrets to be revealed. I kept it all to myself until now, for now is the time he means to bring his plans to completion. Now is the time we must stop him, once and for all."

"You were here? You mean you were with Jonathan bartraol in this time?" Liz asked.

I mean I was with Arvashan in this time and this place. I was his friend, and a more loyal friend no wizard has ever had—until he started his bitter black business, Timothy answered, just before he disappeared through a stone wall at the end of the corridor.

For a moment, Liz stood in the dimly lit hallway gazing at the spot where the cat had disappeared. Timothy had been Arvashan’s friend? What could it mean?

Timothy poked his big fluffy head back through at her. "Are you coming? he asked testily. You are not flesh here, remember? Just walk through the wall and do not be frightened at what you witness. He cannot see or hear us; I have taken care of that. Well? Come along, will you?"

Chapter 2—A Sense of Foreboding

John Carter paced in the octagonal library, trying to shake the feeling of foreboding flooding his thoughts. Since his return from Gorsha, he’d been more on edge than ever, though the nature of his worry was over different things now. It seemed crazy that despite all he’d been through and learned—knowing he’d brought the great Jewel of Gaeradon home with him and that he had Benjamin’s essence and knowledge inside him, he still found himself unable to access any of it. He and Mark had gone through the portal with Benjamin to protect this house and those they loved from the invasion of Gorshans and other monstrous beings, and they had been successful, hadn’t they? Weren’t we? Why then do I feel everything is closer to impending doom than it was before?

Something’s wrong, he whispered. Everything should be right and good now, but it isn’t. In fact, I could swear it’s all about to come tumbling down around us. Why is it I can’t sleep? Why do I wander around this place all night like a fool?

John? Kim Henson asked as she entered the room. I thought I heard you talking to someone, but—no one else is here.

You heard me talking to myself, Kim, John said.

What’s wrong?

"Nothing. Everything… Something, but I don’t know what. He shrugged, plunged his hands into the pockets of his robe, and leaned against the desk. I have this sense of hopelessness—like everything we never wanted is about to happen."

Kim studied John’s face a moment. I just brewed a pot of coffee, she said simply. Want to come have some and tell me what’s troubling you?

He looked at her and sighed. He didn’t want to talk about it; wasn’t sure what it was, more honestly, but he nodded and followed her out of the library and down the hall toward the breakfast bar.

Kim pulled two mugs out of the cabinet, filled them with coffee and set one in front of him before she set Spooky, their black cat on the floor next to Ghost, the Peke and handed them each a treat. So… she began, you can’t sleep nights, just like Leonard Tatum before he was killed. Is the house still bothering you?

John pulled the mug toward him and looked with empty eyes at the steam rising from the black brew, but said nothing.

Kim watched his deliberate avoidance of her eyes for a moment. Well?

He sighed heavily and looked at her then, but still kept his silence.

Look, I know things are different now for all of us. But we’re still friends, right? You can tell me what’s wrong, she encouraged.

It’s not the house, Kim, he said abruptly. "Problem is I don’t know what it is, or what to do. Nothing has been the same since Mark and I returned from Gorsha. Liz is—well, she acts like a stranger to me now. It’s almost like it was with Missy after Leonard’s death when I came home from school. She didn’t want me around. I feel Liz doesn’t want me around either, but when I offer to leave, she cries and begs me to stay."

Kim studied John’s bloodshot eyes again. "She loves you, John, and she needs you to be here. You have to understand, we went through some really harrowing experiences while you were gone. Has she spoken to you about being—abused by Jake at all?"

No, he replied. I’ve tried to get her to talk about it, but she changes the subject, or flies into a rage, every time I try to broach the topic.

It was a pretty dramatic time for both of us, but she—well, she went through several hours of cruelty and mental torment which culminated in being—I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this. It’s Liz’s experience to reveal in her own time and way, Kim hesitated only a moment before continuing, but you need to know what went on.

"Basically, Ben could see a lot of what was happening here, which is part of what’s so frustrating. Now that he’s part of me, I thought I would know everything he knows, but he somehow keeps it all locked away from me, John murmured. Not just what he knows, but what I thought I knew about my past, too—I can’t seem to remember enough of it now. I don’t know why he did what he did, if not to help us both through this transition."

Kim took a sip of her coffee and put a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. I don’t know what he was thinking either, but he must’ve had a reason. Have you tried talking to him?

"You mean have I tried talking to myself? I don’t know if he even hears me, Kim, John said, sucking a big mouthful of hot coffee into his mouth and feeling it burn all the way to his stomach as he swallowed it. Damn! This stuff’s hot, lady."

She smiled. Sorry. I thought you’d know that. Isn’t that one of the things freshly brewed coffee is all about?

You’re right. I wasn’t thinking, he replied as he set the cup on the counter. "Kim, I don’t even know if Ben is still in here. I mean, sometimes I think he must be, because Timothy’s suddenly so fond of me, but… he doesn’t say or do anything. It’s like I have a big wall down the center of my brain. What doesn’t he want me to know? And if there are things he didn’t want me to know, why did he jump in here in the first place?"

Maybe I can talk to him, Kim suggested. Would you be willing for me to try?

He looked at her a long moment. How could you do that?

Kim smiled. Would you be willing?

Well, yeah, but…

"Okay, if you’re willing, all we have to do is see if Ben is. First, though, I think you should tell me what it is you’re hiding, because your omissions may very well be causing part of the problem," she said.

"My—my omissions?" he asked in surprise.

She looked at him, unwavering. "Yes. You haven’t exactly been yourself since you came back either, you know. What happened?"

Everything, Kim, he said. A lot of it was good stuff, but not all of it was. That part—the thing I shouldn’t have done—is the one that has me stymied.

"Well, then, that’s where we should probably start. What thing did you do to make you feel so defeated?"

He hung his head and studied the floor. I am so ashamed, Kim. I don’t want Liz to know.

She’s too perceptive for you to hide things from her, John. What could you possibly have done that would make such a difference?

I-I—made love to Moira, he replied, without looking at her. Nothing like just blurting it all out, is there? I don’t have any excuses about it. I was scared, worried sick about what we might be facing and what was going on here and I—I just let myself be seduced. I needed someone to hold me, and she needed someone to make her feel… I don’t know. Desirable?

Kim ignored the bread when it popped up in the toaster and stood waiting for the air to clear. She continued to stare at him until he was forced to meet her gaze. Just like that? she asked.

"No, not just like that at all, he replied. It’s complicated, Kim. It has to do with who they all say I am—or was—in my past life."

She waited.

John took a deep breath and tried again. "They say I was this grand wizard they call Jonathan bartraol. It was so long ago. I think they were talking about when all the worlds were one, before the cataclysm broke them all apart," he explained.

All the worlds were one? she parroted. Where is this conversation leading, John?

"That’s what the Gaeradons said. Magic was the norm in that ancient place and time, but many of the citizens of the world were corrupted by it. Something happened that I’m not really clear on, but they told me the Creator split the worlds apart, and a great deal of confusion and calamity ensued. The Gaeradons went to the bartraol for help, and he—I—went with them to do what I could to save their kind, or something. I’m still kind-of vague on what my part in all of it was.

"The thing is, in helping the Gaeradons, I left my wife Draita and my children in grave danger, though I didn’t know it at the time. Andaena, Draita’s sister, sacrificed herself to save Draita and the children—because, according to the Gaeradons, Andaena loved me above all others. In all these lifetimes she’s held to her love, though I apparently have always been in love with the soul who was Draita—Constance, Liz… Andaena also is… was… became Moira, in a later incarnation. According to the story, I swore an oath on Andaena’s body to repay my debt to her at the time and in the way she chose."

And the time and the way she chose were while you were in Gorsha? Kim asked.

Apparently so, he replied with a frown. I guess after you guys showed her the truth about Sean, she was healed from a lot of the bad things she had allowed herself to become involved with, but she still needed to feel she was lovable, or something. He shrugged. Honestly, I have no clue.

Are you saying Moira remembers being Andaena? Kim wanted to know.

John shrugged again. "On some level, I think so, just as I could remember a little about the time I had spent with the Gaeradons. Sometimes the memories are a lot clearer than they are at others. Mostly, I still have a lot of trouble swallowing parts of the story; but it does have the ring of truth to it, and a part of me strongly identifies with it. Otherwise, why would they have given me the Jewel of Gaeradon to bring back with me? And how else could I possibly have managed to help the Gorshans and have had a hand in everything else that happened?"

"I don’t know. Another question comes to mind: why did they want you to bring the Jewel back with you?"

I know. That part has me worried, especially since I don’t seem to have any new insights coming my way, and Ben isn’t saying anything, John complained. I’m getting really antsy about something, but I don’t know what it is. I feel like something terrible is about to happen, and I don’t have any inkling how to handle it.

Kim nodded. "I can understand your apprehension. Something is building, and has been ever since the four of us got together. I can feel it, too. It could be this is the first time we’ve all been together since whatever it was that caused the worlds to be split apart, if that actually happened. If so, the implications are pretty far-reaching. I sense we may be called on to unite against a common foe. Not particularly a happy thought, considering we are not nearly as close-knit as we were before you went to Gorsha."

You and Mark aren’t having trouble too, are you? John asked.

No, she said with a smile. We’re fine, but you and Liz are at odds, and she’s become more withdrawn from me, too. With Joel and Jack still in the hospital, there’s just so much going on to concern us all right now.

That’s true. I didn’t know you and Liz were having trouble.

Kim shrugged. She’s just bottled up so tightly right now. And, like you said, she refuses to discuss it. I’ve been trying to get her to go to the crisis center for counseling, but it’s like trying to make a cranky mule let you braid his tail. She wants no part of it.

Do you think she knows about Moira and me? Could that be adding to the problem? he asked. I absolutely hit a brick wall when I think of trying to talk to her about it.

I honestly don’t know, John, Kim said. She isn’t talking about what’s bothering her, and I’m somewhat at a loss, even as well as I know her. I’m hoping it will bring her around when the kids come. They’ve always been able to pull her out of any funk she was in before. She’s a different person when they’re with her. I do think you’re going to have to sit her down and tell her what you just told me, though.

I don’t want to hurt her, he objected, re-emphasizing his earlier affirmation.

Trust me, the sooner you get it over with, the easier it’ll be and the less likely she is to hold it against you for long. The longer you keep it secret, the more she’ll read into it when you do tell her, and the more upset she’ll be.

Ah, he said thoughtfully, I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right, of course. I’ll make a point of talking with her as soon as possible. Thanks for making me confess—and thanks for not jumping down my throat over it.

What kind of friend would I be if I coerced you into confiding in me and then railed at you when you did? she asked. In truth, she’d been ready to claw his eyes out for betraying Liz’s trust, but she’d somehow quelled her anger. I try to be a better counselor than that. Thoughts of her early mistrust of John resurfaced to taunt her. Had his betrayal with Moira been what she was sensing, even then, before it had happened?

"You’re a very good counselor, but you didn’t even seem surprised. Did you expect me to betray her? Or am I that transparent?"

I seem to recall your mentioning something about Moira seducing you before; when you were trying to clear the spirits from the house yourself. In dreams, if I recall.

Well, a woman came to me in my dreams, but I don’t recall ever talking to you about her, he said. "I didn’t know it was Moira. She usually came to me looking like Missy and then, when it was over, she would change into someone else and laugh at me… My God, Kim. It was Moira! But how did you know?"

I didn’t really, Kim replied, but it seems to fit, doesn’t it? Moira was bent on destroying Tarrh’s heirs and anyone connected with the manor. As the present incarnation of Benjamin, it stands to reason you would be a likely target, doesn’t it?

"I suppose, but I didn’t make the connection at all until I met her when we went to Tarrh’s house. And even then, for some reason I didn’t remember it until you just now spoke of Moira’s coming to me in dreams. How could you have known?"

"Beats me. Then again, I’ve known things I couldn’t possibly have known all my life. This is just another example of my ability to see things," she said with a shrug, although something inside told her much more than her psychic ability had led her to the conclusion she’d just made. Kim had always known she and Liz were karmically bound to one another. If Liz did happen to be the reincarnation of Draita, it was more than a slight possibility that she—Kim—was the present incarnation of Andaena.

That karmic connection was more than likely what had prompted Moira’s reaction to and suspicion of her when they met face-to-face for the first time in Moira’s chambers at Tarrh’s manor. Moira recognized something about Kim because she could feel the karma they had in common, even if she hadn’t been immediately able to piece it together. This bit of trivia would require further investigation on Kim’s part. Hadn’t she also just said she and Mark, John and Liz were all together for the first time since the cataclysm scattered all the worlds to the four corners of the universe? Where had that bit of knowledge floated in from, if not from her own soul’s knowing? Yet again, where did Mark fit into the scenario of the Draita, Andaena and Jonathan bartraol triangle? What did it all mean?

Kim, John whispered, where did you go? Hello?

What? Oh, sorry, John. I guess I just went off on a little detour, she replied, trying to sound casual. Are you ready to let me try to talk to Ben?

Uh, sure. But how? he asked.

You’ll have to trust me. Can you do that?

Why wouldn’t I? he asked.

Why, indeed? I don’t know, but if you trust me, close your eyes and ask Ben, inside your mind, to let me speak with him, she suggested.

He complied with her wishes. I feel more than a little silly doing this, but Ben, Kim would like to speak with you. Are you there? he asked.

Of course I am here, Benjamin said aloud to John, then addressed Kim. You want to speak with me?

Kim had to smile in spite of herself as she looked at the man who was still very much John, but heard the rich Highland accent of Benjamin McCann coming from John’s mouth. What were you thinking, Ben? she asked.

I was trying to simplify things, Benjamin said.

Well, that was thoughtful of you, but I’m not so sure it worked all that well, Kim chided.

Well, I am still working it out. ’Tis not as simple as I had imagined, he confessed.

Ben, we’re having some trouble here, and I sense we haven’t seen or heard the half of it yet. Why are you keeping things from John?

I was attempting to give him some time to adjust to my presence, Benjamin asserted.

"Aren’t you the considerate one, though? she quipped, then continued without waiting for an answer. And how, may I ask, can he get accustomed to having you around if you make yourself imperceptible?"

Good point, Benjamin admitted. Perhaps I should try another tack?

"Yes, I think so, maybe. Why didn’t you tell us all about our past relationships? Why did you talk only to Liz about having been Constance?"

I—well, as you know, no one is perfect. I’ve no excuses, but things seemed to happen so much faster than I had expected them to. I simply didn’t have the time to prepare everyone before we went to Gorsha, and there has been so little time since we returned.

"You’ve had some time since, but instead of explaining things, you’ve been playing hide-and-seek. When were you going to tell us about this thing we are facing now?" she asked.

"What do you know about it? Have you seen what is to be?"

"No. I am only beginning to see a tiny fraction of what has been. I feel something’s coming, and we’re not prepared for it. I don’t like the feeling much. What can you tell me about it?"

All right, I will tell you everything I can, but first, you should finish your breakfast. Once you learn what I have to say, you may not have the appetite to eat.

"That makes me feel a whole lot better, Ben," she said, taking her cold toast from the toaster.

*~*~*~*

Doctor Mark Adams entered the hospital room where Father Joel Murchison was sitting up in bed, looking more pale and lean than Mark could ever remember having seen him look before. Joel shifted his gaze to Mark from the letter he was reading for the tenth time. Good morning, doc, he hailed, though his greeting was much less enthusiastic than normal.

Good morning, Joel. How are you feeling today? Mark asked with a nod as he approached the bedside and scanned Joel’s chart.

I still feel like a truck ran over me several times, Joel responded, folding the letter and sticking it back into the envelope.

Mark eyed the letter a moment. Bad news? he asked.

I was just trying to decide that, Joel replied. "It’s my official letter from the diocese, telling me they have reviewed my case and have determined I was acting in the best interests of Liz and Kim when I broke the confidentiality of the confessional and tried to warn them. However, such action is never condoned by the Church, and I should have gone to the police instead of to Kim and Liz, most particularly since they aren’t even members of the Catholic community. The Church officials are willing to let me get by with