Harbinger of Truth: Harbinger Witch Saga

By Savannah Morgan

A cop hunting a serial killer

A woman trying to survive

The hottest summer in Jackson, Mississippi’s history has come to an end. Serial killer John Andrews has escaped, leaving Detective Jorden Tanner and Harbinger Witch Hannah Danvers to team up in an effort to find him.

As they search for the killer, Jorden and Hannah uncover the truth of the Harbinger Curse, a betrayal in their own camp, and a connection to each other that goes back centuries.

In this second part to the Harbinger Witches Trilogy, Hannah and Jorden find a destiny neither could have predicted.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Savannah Morgan
• Release date: Aug 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370463756

Savannah Morgan

NOTE: Dreams Sapphire Springs Book 1 has been heavily corrected and changed. If you bought a copy before 11/21/2013 please get the updated version now. I apologize for any inconvenience this has caused and hope I do much better with future book releases. Thank you for you understanding and patience. Savvy I began writing almost 20 years ago but only recently decided to publish. Writing has been one of the most enjoyable aspects of my life. It has allowed me to experience knew things, transported me to new places and allowed me to meet knew people. I also enjoy photography, graphic arts, and many other forms of artistic expression. I created the cover for Dreams and have created the cover for the next three novels in the series. Because I am usually behind the camera rather in front of it, I do not have an author's photo I can put up but I am working to correct this and hope to have it up soon. I have been married for nearly 25 years to my best friend, adventure/travel partner, confidant and greatest critic, Caleb. We have a unique relationship in that we do everything together. I call Caleb my greatest critic because he only wants the best for me and is always willing to give me honest feedback concerning my writing. We live in the Deep South, for now, but have lived all over the US and Germany. We have two Black Labrador Retrievers we adopted from rescue shelters. One is a full Black Lab and the other is a Lab/Australian Dingo mix. Thank you for your interest in my books, I look forward to giving you many years of enjoyable reading. Please feel free to contact me on Facebook, tumblr, or visit me on my website at www.author-savannahmorgan.com. Savvy

Book preview

Prologue – Summer 2016, Jackson, MS

Harbinger Witch Creed

Sarah’s Journal

Chapter 1 - Cohabitating

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Esther’s Journal

Chapter 4 – The Inheritance

Drusilla of Corniculum

Chapter 5 – Fear and Betrayal

Chapter 6

Sarah’s Journal

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Sarah’s Journal

Chapter 9 – Confessions

Chapter 10

Chapter 11 – More Clues

Chapter 12

The Letter

Chapter 13 – Something Wicked

Chapter 14 – This Way Comes

Chapter 15 – The Seduction

Esther’s Journal

Chapter 16 – Lessons to Learn

Chapter 17 – Power Trip

Chapter 18 – Connecting Power

Chapter 19

Chapter 20 – The World Isn’t Such A Nice Place

Esther’s Journal

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Esther’s Journal

Epilogue

Savannah Morgan

Prologue

Summer 2016, Jackson, MS

Whoa! What the hell are you doing? Jorden hissed. He caught Hannah by the forearm as she rushed passed him, heading for the side entrance to the cellar at John Andrews’ mother’s house.

Hannah jerked her arm from his loosening grip. I’m going in there to confront that bastard!

Like hell you are! Jorden exclaimed. He nearly killed you with nothing but his thoughts. What makes you think you can confront him in person!

Hannah held her arms out, turning them from side to side showing him her unmarked skin. I’m healed now. Her breath caught in her throat, nearly choking her. I’ve lived through his attacks for two years. I’m sick of this. I want this over. Ended! Done with!

Jorden’s heart broke a little for the pretty blonde he’d met three hours ago. Hannah was somehow psychically linked to the victims of the serial killers, or to the serial killers themselves. Either way, she had been cut, bruised, and mentally tortured by these killings. He couldn’t believe she had lived through it all, mentally intact, for two years. It was a miracle she wasn’t bat-shit crazy.

Maybe she was. When they met at the Cups Coffee shop, she had been cut and bruised from the psychic attack of the killer. Jorden still didn’t understand all of this. But, having witnessed her skin flay open like magic right in front of his eyes, he knew whatever connection she had with these killings was real.

Detective… her voice trailed off for a moment, before becoming stronger again. Jorden, I have to do this. I must end this threat once and for all. He’s taken over my entire life. I’ve lost my job, my scholarship, and every friend I’ve ever had except JaLise. He has taken everything from me. She angrily batted away tears from her cheeks. It has to end. If I die, then so be it, at least it will finally be over.

Jorden understood her frustration. He felt it too. He wanted this case over as much as she did. Seven women had lost their lives at the hands of the serial killing team. His own partner was involved. He had to get to the bottom of this. End the killings and make at least one of these mother-fuckers pay for their crimes.

Stay behind me. Jorden began, laying out the rules for him allowing her to go inside that cellar. He dug in his pocket for the small jar of mentholated gel, slathering a small amount on his upper lip before holding the jar out to her. He used the mentholated rub to combat the smell of a dead body. It wasn’t the blood, as much as the excrement of the dead that caused the nauseating stench. With it being the hottest summer on record in a hundred years, the stench was even worse with these killings.

Jorden had a knack for sizing up a crime scene. His grandmother swore he inherited the family’s ability to smell evil. She called it scenting evil. However, he’d always thought his gran’ma was a little off her rocker, too.

Having met Hannah and experiencing whatever the hell had happened at her apartment, he wasn’t so sure the old woman wasn’t on to something. Perhaps his gran’ma was right. He was a good cop because of his ability to smell up evil. Sense it.

Whether it was evil or just his cop’s gut instinct, he knew there was at least one dead body in that cellar.

Repeat what I just told you, Hannah. I’m not letting you go in there unless I know you are going to do exactly what I say, not mess up my crime scene, and not get hurt.

Hannah took the small jar the detective held out to her. She sniffed at it, jerked her head back from the strong scent of mentholatum and wrinkled her nose. Shaking her head, she handed it back to him without putting any of the strong smelling gel on her upper lip. Stay behind you. Step where you step. Don’t touch anything. And run at the first sign of trouble.

Jorden chuckled at her reaction to the scented gel. Nodding at her recitation of the rules, he stepped in front of her and began walking to the cellar entrance. His gut tightened with each step closer. That odd burning sulfur scent he always smelled at one of the killers’ crime scenes permeated the air.

The hairs on his arms rose, bending in the direction he was heading. That was new, and something he took strong objection to. He didn’t want this to be preternatural. He didn’t want to believe he was tracking down some magically enhanced being.

He was a cop. Cops believed what they could see, smell, touch and prove. His life was mired in cold hard facts. Not some supernatural woo-woo.

He relied on his sixth sense when it came to a crime scene. He knew he needed to keep the scene pristine until CSU could arrive and investigate, but he also knew he had to be the first one on this scene. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain Ortiz’s body with a gaping hole in it, but he’d deal with that later.

Daniel Ortiz was his partner. The vision he shared with Hannah proved Ortiz and John Andrews, another cop, were the serial killers. Jorden still couldn’t wrap his mind around the veteran homicide cop being part of the worst serial murders Jackson, Mississippi had ever seen. If he was honest, which he always tried to be, he’d have to admit the knowledge that the killers were cops, rocked his foundation, his sense of right and wrong.

He shook off the thoughts and focused on the tasks at hand; investigating a murder and protecting Hannah. Hannah was the innocent in this. She was the one without blame or evil. In all Jorden’s life, he’d never smelled the clean, fresh scent he had when he held Hannah while she was being psychically attacked earlier. The idea of protecting her seemed to counter that off-kilter feeling he had at learning who was to blame for all these deaths.

Hannah’s safety was paramount. It was all that mattered to him now. He would figure out how he would stay out of prison and salvage his career later.

Hannah followed Jorden down the concrete steps, watching where she placed her feet so as to not break any of his rules. She didn’t know the detective, not really. They’d only met a few hours ago and then everything went upside down and sideways. But, she sensed he was a man of his word. If he told her something she could count on it. So, if he told her he would bodily carry her out of here if she broke one of his rules, she could bet on he would do exactly that.

A rush of cold, dank air wafted from the opened door of the underground cellar. There was a slight coppery scent to it with an underlying sickly-sweet scent of decay. In her dreams, that was always the first thing she recognized. The smell of death.

What the fuck?!?

Hannah leaned to the left in order to see around the detective. Oh my GOdumph.

Hannah’s words were pushed out of her at the impact of Jorden’s shoulder hitting her in the midsection as he lifted her up and tossed her over his shoulder. Her forehead bounced against his wallet in his back pocket once before she could brace herself. Then it was a battle to keep from hitting her head while tightening her stomach muscles as he ran up the steps and back outside.

Wait! I didn’t break any of the rules. She exclaimed, as she tried to lift her head enough to see the scene that had him fleeing. Her hair was as much an obstacle as her position. She was able to only glimpse three bodies before her view was completely obscured with how Jorden carried her.

Umph. Hmph. Umph. Her breath was knocked out of her with every pounding step. She thought she might puke from the continued impact. He skidded to a stop, flipped her off his shoulder causing her to land on her feet hard. Her teeth clacked against each other. She was lucky she didn’t bite her tongue.

She quickly looked around to get her bearings. They were standing next to his unmarked sedan. Ung, Jorden...

Get in! Jorden ordered as he all but stuffed her in the back seat of his car, locking and closing the door once she was inside. He was looking for every ounce of protection he could provide for her. Fishing his phone from his front pocket, Jorden began reciting the Archangel St. Michael’s prayer. He hadn’t been to church since he was a kid, but the prayer rolled off his tongue like he recited it daily.

"St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle.

Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil.

May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou.

Oh Prince of the Heavenly Hosts, by the power of God,

Thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits,

who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls."

Jorden ended his prayer with the sign of the cross, reverently breathing Amen, as he pressed the contact for Captain Jefferson of the Major Investigations Bureau on his phone.

Captain? Tanner here. We have another scene.

Shit, Tanner. That’s what, six victims in a week?

No, sir. The scene this morning had three victims. The scene I’m at right now has five.

WHAT!?! That’s eight more victims! Where are you?"

John Andrews’ mother’s house, sir.

What the hell are you doing there?

Jorden ignored the rhetorical question. Ortiz is dead, sir. His throat was slit.

Did you confront the killers?

Jorden continued. Two more women, he swallowed hard, Andrews’ mother is dead as well, sir. Same COD. He didn’t play with the bodies though. The ghastly scene flashed before his eyes. I think these are the first victims. Jorden shook his head trying to dislodge the scene from his mind. Ortiz was dead, and not by a burning, gaping hole in his middle. His throat was cut from ear to ear. His corpse appeared to be weeks old, not hours. Who the fuck had he been working with?

There is more, sir.

God damn it, Tanner. What now?

John Andrews is dead too.

Jorden could swear, he heard the Captain chuckling.

A single thought went through his head.

How the hell did the Captain know there was more than one killer?

The Creed of the Harbinger Witch

I am the Harbinger Witch

I am of the dark and the light

I am the Harbinger Witch

Endowed with the gift of foresight

I am the Harbinger Witch

And this is my birthright

I am the Harbinger Witch

Forever bound to this fight.

We are the Harbinger Witches

Strong to together we stand

We are the Harbinger Witches

Spread across time and foreign land

We are the Harbinger Witches

No matter the time spanned

We are the Harbinger Witches

Your sisters and friends

You are the Harbinger Witch

A fledgling; untested, untried

You are the Harbinger Witch

We are here to teach and guide

You are the Harbinger Witch

Connected in blood to fortify

You are the Harbinger Witch

The power of the witch amplified

Sarah’s Journal

1927, March 15

It happened again. I suffered another attack of my curse, only this time in public. Thank goodness Adelaide was there with me, albeit stuck outside in the unrelenting heat, with no shade to ward off the sun’s rays. Poor dear. She is too good to accompany me to these events where it is obvious she is not welcomed.

I wish it was not my responsibility to represent the Whitley family as I must. My poor father and mother should have had more children, a boy at least; someone who could protect and further the family name. I fear with my affliction I will not be long for this world, and certainly no candidate for a proper marriage. Not even the Whitley name has seen to a good prospect for a solid match.

Since I inherited my family’s curse, when I was but nineteen, I have been leery of growing too close to anyone. My dear father saw to my protection and comforts, as well as providing a roof over my head for however long I may be on this earth. He even had the foresight to send for dearest Adelaide to be my companion. But even with Addie’s help, I am worried what my future may hold. Those with my affliction tend to die young, and brutally. It is not a future one likes to think of, but it is there, always weighing on my mind nonetheless.

1927, March 16

Word came late this afternoon; Serafine will be laid to rest in New Orleans next week. I still cannot believe she is gone. Addie is hiding her grief well over the loss of her cousin, but I know she is devastated.

Sera’s absence will be felt not only by Addie’s family but mine as well. I wish I knew what really happened. How did she die? Why Lilyanne? What really happened?

So many questions.

And now poor, sweet Lilly is wasting away at Sylum Heights accused of Sera’s murder. I know in my heart that cannot be true. Nonetheless, I fear someone will learn of the situation and find out she has been confined as a deranged murderer.

I must get a message to her. I need for her to tell me what to do next. Explain how all of this happened. But how? Lilyanne’s confinement must remain a well guarded-secret. What if the authorities were to think I had something to do with these events? Poor Addie would have no course of action to help me, and very well might be lumped in with Lilly and I and accused of having something to do with Sera’s death.

It is most strange that Lilly could even be accused of such a thing. She and Sera were as close as sisters. I know, I know. It is not acceptable for a white woman and black woman to be so close, but I know how much Lilly loves Sera. She could never harm her, especially so brutally.

Poor Serafine. How she must have suffered; having her throat sliced from ear to ear.

The poor dear.

My prayers for her to find peace are a constant mantra.

The events of the last two weeks are just so bizarre. Sera’s death. Lilly being blamed. Lilly being confined. The escalation of my visions, and the intensification of horrific details. And, I cannot forget Adelaide’s warnings. She’s as talented a psychic as any I’ve ever seen. She has an ability to sense evil, smell it. She warns there is another’s presence around me.

There is some connection I am not seeing to all of these circumstances.

What could it all mean?

How do I find the truth?

Lilly was my last resource for answers. Being cursed as she is, as I am, and the brutality of Sera’s death, there is no hope they will ever release her from the asylum.

I must get my hands on Lilly’s journals. Perhaps there is something in them that can help me.

Without access to Lilly and her knowledge, I’m left with remembered conversations, the few journals I have found, and whispered rumors. Family stories handed down from one to another about what to expect and how we all suffer.

It’s all very frightening. If I only knew more. Had somewhere to turn for answers.

The only things I know are:

The curse only attacks the women in my family.

It can manifest in many ways: from migraines all the way up to horrific nightmares and conscious visions.

A sense or knowing of something evil that will happen, but never exactly when it will take place.

There is a rumor, rarely mentioned, how every few generations one will be possessed of the full curse. There is nothing more to the rumor. We only know there can be more afflictions, but no one I know has a clue as to what those could be.

All we do know is, the one who is born with the full curse is not long for the world and dies suspiciously. Esther, the first known ancestor to have the harbinger curse, was one such person and the few things I’ve read about her, are dreadful.

However, there is a rumor Esther wrote several journals detailing her life and the Harbinger curse, but no one seems to know where they were hidden.

It’s probably just a made up story. If Esther wrote something that could help us now she would have spelled the journals to find the right person at the right time. No one has admitted to seeing a journal of Esther’s in over a hundred years.

Oh, how I wish I knew