The Vow

By Maggie Jaimeson

A Dark Fantasy Novelette (42 pages)

When one suffers violence, torment, or other degrading treatment because of gender what should the response be? Vengeance? Death? Forgiveness? In this society, where magic is a spiritual practice, the Sisters of Haven have devised their own solutions. Each sister chooses for herself.

 Note: This story is included in the anthology Rhythms

• Language: English
• Publisher: Windtree Press
• Release date: Jul 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781943601967

Maggie Jaimeson

Maggie is the author of 15 published books, as well as more than 30 short stories and numerous non-fiction articles. She is also the founder of Windtree Press, an independent publishing cooperative. Her love of lifelong-learning has garnered degrees in psychology, counseling, computer science, and education; and led to opportunities to consult in Europe, Australia, and the Middle East. Since 2013, Maggie has enjoyed the luxury of writing full-time. Her adult fiction spans romance, suspense, and SF titles under the name Maggie Jaimeson. She writes YA under the name Maggie Faire. Her non-fiction titles are found under Maggie McVay Lynch.

Book preview

The Vow

by Maggie Jaimeson

Windtree Press

Hillsboro, Oregon

Copyright © 2015 by Maggie Jaimeson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

Windtree Press

4660 NE Belknap Court

Hillsboro, Oregon 97124

http://windtreepress.com

Publisher's Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

The Vow / Maggie Jaimeson. -- 1st ed.

ISBN 978-19436011-4-1

The Vow

Faith curled into a fetal position, pulled the sheet over her head and covered her ears with both hands to diminish the screams in the next room. She knew how the night would go. She knew exactly what would happen over the next couple of hours. There was nothing she could do to stop it. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she sang the macabre lullaby to herself.

Rock-a-bye baby, in the treetop.

When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.

When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall.

And down will come baby, cradle and all.

She couldn't remember the last time her mother came to her rescue. And, for the last eight years, her mother did nothing to catch Faith's fall into darkness.

Unable to sleep, Faith sent out the distress call to the sisters of Haven. She closed her eyes and let her mind travel to them, as they had taught her.

We're here, they answered in her mind. We'll protect you. Tendrils of warmth started at the base of her neck and worked its way down her spine, wrapping her in love. Hold onto us and nothing can hurt you. Believing and trusting, Faith entered a trance long before her father walked into the room.

Faith? her brother shook her awake. They're both out cold. You better get going. He carefully placed her folded clothes on the bed next to her.

She let out a whimper of pain as she stretched and rolled over. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat at the smell of her father's stink still fouling the sheet wrapped around her nakedness. How long? she asked, as she struggled to disengage her mind from the safety of her sisters in Haven.

Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes. Neither has moved. They're dead drunk.

She took a deep breath. That was good. That meant she had at least four hours, maybe five before they woke again. She reached for her undergarments on top of the clothes, ducked under the sheet and expertly pulled on the underwear and bra without exposing herself.

Who? her brother asked, handing her the dark leggings and black tunic next.

Faith ducked under the sheet again. You know I can't tell you.

When will it be your turn? You deserve it more than most.

She threw the sheet off the bed and stood, wincing at the pain her father had inflicted. Oh, Job. We all deserve it. Every one of us. If you knew some of the other stories, you would understand. We must go in order. Those who have toiled the longest must be first, for they have suffered more.

Job's shoulders slumped. I don't know how much longer I can hold out. His voice shook as he spoke.

Faith put her arms around him, barely touching in an air hug. It was hard to touch anyone after what happened, but her brother wasn't to blame and he needed her now.

I know. She patted his back and whispered in his ear. I will ask if they will make an exception. I will ask if the sisters can find you a room in the tunnels, at least until after I learn to wield the powers of Haven.

Job stepped back and stood straight. No. He swallowed hard, and she turned her head away, not willing to look into his frightened eyes. If I leave it will be worse for you. I can't allow that.

Faith fished between the mattress and box spring for her bowie knife. She pulled it out; swiped it from right to left and back again before putting it in the scabbard on the rope belt tied at her waist.

She forced herself to take her brother's misshapen hand and stroke it. Her fingers traced the club left by three missing fingers. Each time Job had stood between her and her father, when she was only eight years old, her father cut off a finger as punishment. When she cried out at Job's pain, her father forced the bloody end of his severed finger into her mouth