Reunion of Evil: Hexe, #7

By Rex Baron

Like her mother, Lydia has a gift.

 

This gift is the rare and unsettling gift of Psychometry. She is able to "read" the life of objects with her hands.

 

Lydia is also a successful Hollywood producer, so she keeps her power a secret.

 

But when she decides to create a television series about the powerful women of the Hollywood's silent movie era, she inadvertently opens a doorway to the past… and other dangerous things.

 

Fearful for her reputation, she tries to keep her discovery under wraps.

 

But before long it's more than her reputation that is on the line.

 

 

Reunion of Evil is volume seven of the spellbinding eight-part historical fantasy drama Hexe, which tracks the dark magical exploits of four women over the course of a century. It is a sweeping tale of obsessive love, witchcraft and retribution, in which each of these extraordinary women discover their unique abilities, and struggle to come to terms with their own secret gifts of power.

• Language: English
• Publisher: ProsperityQM Publishing
• Release date: Jul 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393966487

Rex Baron

Rex Baron has spent much of his life traveling the world in search of history and to experience a sense of "Place". He is a student of metaphysics and Daoism, and has studied Acupuncture and Oriental Medicine as an alternative to Western pragmatic thinking. To express his creative side, he paints portraits and enjoys the history of great works of art and the stories of the lives of their creators. He believes that each of us is capable of great achievements, and that the power and magic to fulfill our dreams lies deep within. He maintains that by understanding our history and the history of the world, we may come to understand how to tap into our personal power and create a life experience that we never thought possible. Rex baron presently resides in the American Southwest. "There is Magic all around us. Our goal is to train our senses to perceive it and recognize it as an opportunity to create worlds."

Book preview

Dedication

Dedicated to the Power and Magic that lies deep within each of us.

— Rex

REUNION OF EVIL

HEXE VOLUME 7

JIT Beta Readers

Brian Roberts

Kimberley Beaulieu

Sara Keyes

If I missed anyone, please let me know!

Editor

Sarah Kante

Author’s Forward

Thank you for reading HEXE.I hope that you will find it an enjoyable and exciting experience. But it is important for the reader to be aware that although there are any number of historical personages characterized throughout, the events described surrounding them and their interactions with the fictional characters are largely imagined and presented as such, strictly for the sake of storytelling.

There is no intention on the part of the author or publisher to demean or malign the reputation or character of any historical person represented and any reference to their sexual orientation or personal actions is simply hearsay, based on information collected from outside sources.

A great deal of research has gone into the creation of this series, and every effort has been made to ensure historical accuracy—even to the descriptions of the recipes for spell casting, which have been researched from credible, centuries-old sources and included (in part) to enhance the story’s authenticity. This being said, HEXE is not intended as a primer on witchcraft and much of what is described that deals with Wicca and Witchcraft is left for the reader to further investigate for their own enjoyment.

It might also be noted that because much of the storyline is set before the new millennium, when the notion of political correctness was not in place culturally, some of the language and description of characters might be judged as harsh or even inappropriate by today’s standards. But in the times when the events of the story are set, this was assuredly not the case. The manners and language of the 1920s differs greatly from that of the 1930s, and certainly from the parts of the story set in the 1980s or present times. In order to give the correct feeling to those times, I have made a strong effort to depict situations and people as they would have been seen and described then, with all the flavour and gusto of those unique and exciting times.

I do hope you enjoy your journey into the fascinating world of HEXE, the chosen, and look forward to continuing the saga until its fateful  and exciting conclusion.

So Mote It Be    REX BARON

Fountain Hills, AZ, September 2019

Chapter One

Guadalupe, California, 2018

Carefully, she brushed the sand away with her fingertips, before pushing it with the palm of her hand to create a little wall that surrounded the area where she searched.  After long moments of digging, her fingers touched something that was formed and solid below the undisturbed surface of the dunes.  Quickly, she pushed at the sand with both hands to reveal a nose, then a pair of lips, and the eye of a statue that stared blankly back at her from across the centuries.

Her companion hurriedly joined the digging to help reveal a face, complete with the geometrically shaped, protruding false beard that undeniably marked a Pharaoh.  They stood and stepped back from their gleaming discovery of white, hidden beneath the sand, and surveyed a countenance that was over five feet from forehead to chin.

My god, Lydia, I can’t believe it, Nathan Keller gasped in amazement. What is it?  It looks like it’s an Egyptian god or something… but what the hell is he doing out here in the middle of nowhere… in California?

I knew this dig was going on out here and wanted to show this to you, to get your reaction, before I pitched my idea to anyone.  Are you impressed?

By what? Nathan asked.  I’m more confused than anything.  Who buried this, and how long ago?  And don’t tell me that Guadalupe, California was once the site of some ancient, lost tribe from Egypt.

I won’t.  This is more important… to me anyway, as a producer in Hollywood, Lydia answered.  This IS Hollywood.  It’s our legacy, our beginning, the stuff that made the entertainment industry what it is today.

I thought you were going to show me something BEFORE you started pitching, Nathan said with a slight sigh.

He had been through this before with his fiancée, and knew that he was in for either a twenty-minute history lesson… a trial run of an investor pitch… or both.

So, are you going to tell me what this thing is, or do I have to dig it up myself and look for the stamp that says it was made in China?

Lydia laughed.

Nathan, dear boy, let me introduce you to Ramses the Second, or at least the director’s idea of Ramses II.  Actually, he looks more like Charles De Roche, the actor who played him in the 1923 movie.

What are you talking about?  What movie? Nathan asked with a hint of exasperation that made Lydia smile.

"I’m talking about the most classic Biblical biopic of all time… Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments… not the 1956 version with Charlton Heston, but the silent one from 1923."

Nathan under-reacted.

We’re standing in the middle of the buried city of Egypt, Lydia explained insistently, the most expensive set ever built for a film, costing over seven-hundred-thousand dollars in 1923.  You’re the accountant…

Forensics investment consultant, Nathan corrected her.

You do the math of what that would cost today, Lydia continued.  It would be millions just for this one set.  The story goes that after shooting wrapped, DeMille was concerned that some renegade filmmakers would come out here and take advantage of his fabulous set, so he had it dynamited and buried here in the dunes.  It wasn’t until the 1980s that someone heard about it and started excavating.

Nathan surveyed the rolling mounds of sand, silently shifting about them in the wind that drifted inland from the ocean.  The mildewed smell of the damp plaster from the face of Ramses filled his nostrils as he glanced around at the makeshift structures that comprised the archaeology of the dig and the alabaster-colored scraps of rubble that protruded here and there against the forever-moving landscape of sand.  He felt an unsettling sense of loss, a foreboding, as if he were standing on a silenced battlefield, decades after the heat and passion of battle had reduced the men and their ideals to the dust beneath his feet.  The spot on which they stood had once been alive with five thousand technicians and dress extras, nearly a hundred years ago, during the making of a film.  But now it was desolate and silent… with only the migratory movement of the relentless, concealing sand.

It’s kind of sad, he said.

I want to help them get funding to dig up the rest of it, Lydia’s voice broke through Nathan’s musing.  "If we can get some press and some international publicity, we can sell this as an historic find to all the media.  Then, hopefully, we can create a new interest in the old Hollywood industry, the silent film industry… just in time to launch my new twenty-part series… Sirens of the Silver Screen."

Lydia raked her hand across the sky, as she delivered the working title to her fiancé.  She stepped back and waited for his response.

Wow, he said, I mean, that’s fantastic.

Nathan tried hard to shape his features into just the correct configuration to ensure that Lydia knew he supported her and her work.  But, with the news of a new series, he knew that their relationship would, once again, be in for strained and difficult moments, caused by lack of time, too much work and questionable priorities.  He had been through it before.  But for the sake of his love for her and her passion for her work, he would endure it all one more time… and even make the coffee.

Wow, that’s exciting, he repeated again, this time with more convincing enthusiasm.

•      •      •

As they sat in the car on the way back to LA, Lydia watched Nathan as he drove. He was very good looking, she told herself, with his thick dark hair and angular features. He could have been an actor or even a movie star, if he’d wanted to.  But he was too clever to fall for that game, and instead had created a business where he reconstructed the budgets and spending of a film, after it was completed.  He got paid a commission for tracking down cheques that had gone astray and monies that were outstanding or long overdue.  He was a brilliant businessman and an exciting lover, she reminded herself, as she made a further tally of his talents.  But, in the end, he really didn’t care much about the creative part of the business, or Hollywood in general.

She, on the other hand, had the city of dreams and the movie business fairly coursing through her veins as her life’s blood.  After all, she was descended from a famous actress who had been a movie star, back in the silent days.  It was one of the reasons she had taken immediately to the Sirens of the Silver Screen idea when she first heard a writer pitch it at one of the pitchfests, and brought it in for development.  After a bit of research, she discovered that the actress was, in actuality, more of a singer, a German opera singer, and that she was a great, great aunt, on her mother’s side, named Lucy von Dorfen.  But everyone, especially her ardent fans at the time and the press on several continents, referred to her as Lucy… the dazzling Lucy von Dorfen.

Lydia had begun to identify with the singer and secretly thought she bore a strong resemblance to the striking German beauty with the golden, cropped hair that she had seen in the old photos, as she was doing her research.  Short hair on women was considered brash and unfeminine in the early 1920s, but Lucy had made it her trademark and had young girls on three continents cropping their hair into chin length bobs, leaving it undressed and free to blow in the wind.

Her aunt had been slender and modern-looking, in spite of the contrived painted mouth and the kohl-darkened eyes of the era.  Even in the cracked and discolored old photos, Lucy had a face that was alive with youth and beauty.  But she had drowned when she was in her twenties, Lydia reminded herself of another part of the story… something of a scandal.  She had been returning home, sailing to Bremerhaven in Germany, when the ship she was crossing on went down.

Lydia’s let out a sigh of apprehension that did not go unnoticed by Nathan.

Excited about your project? he asked.  A few nerves are to be expected.  You know you.  Once you get into it and start talking, the old magic kicks in.

Magic? Lydia queried.  What do you mean… magic?

You know… you’ll get into your stride and win them all over.  What did you think I meant?

Nothing.  I just thought I heard you say something else… about magic.  I guess my mind is going off in twenty directions, Lydia laughed.

Nathan drove on in silence until Lydia interrupted his concentration.

I really want to thank you for driving all the way out here today.  It means a lot to me that you think the idea is sound and that you can support me in it.

Nathan nodded.

You understand this is kind of personal… the project, I mean, Lydia explained, You know I had a great aunt or something that was in a silent film.  I don’t know whether she was considered a siren of the silver screen, since she only made one picture, but it gives me a kind of investment in the project… and an opportunity to find out what really happened to her.

What did happen to her? Nathan asked, trying not to miss a cue and seem disinterested.

Lydia stared out the window as the sands of the dunes and the lure of buried Egypt gave way to asphalt and convenience stores.  She felt the energetic pull of the silent movie world that had consumed her, as she stood over the plaster face of the Pharaoh only a quarter hour before, fade away as the noise and frenetic activity of the modern world encroached.

All I know is that she drowned, Lydia answered his question.  But somehow I know there’s more to it than what was reported… I just feel it.

The conversation in the car was abruptly interrupted by the ringing of Lydia’s cell phone.  She fumbled in her large Hermès bag to retrieve it.

It’s the studio, she said, I’ve got to take this.

Chapter Two

La Brea, Los Angeles

Brad pulled out the file for the new project with the letters S S S scrawled across the front of it in Lydia’s handwriting.

Sounds like we’re doing a project about Nazis instead of sexy and successful women in the silent movies, he muttered aloud.

He opened the folder and sifted through the aging brown photographs that crackled as he touched them.  It was nice though… to have such lovely glamour shots of oneself, he thought.  They had a way of capturing the beauty of people back then that he felt was strangely missing in today’s movie business.  They were creating film icons with photographs that were meant to inspire and uplift, with makeup and lighting elevated to an art form that had never been seen before or since.  The faces of the early film stars were meant to be perfect and eternal.  They were meant to be recognized around the world for decades, and some had survived for more than a century.

People were beautiful in a different way, Brad reasoned, dissecting his own first impression.  Many of the stars from the ‘20s and ‘30s had Eastern European looking faces, with long straight noses that made them appear exotic and subliminally sexual, in contrast to wholesome girl or boy next door stars like Mary Pickford or William Boyd, who represented all that was good and healthy in America back then.

He admitted that he secretly preferred the glamour types to the naïf’s and innocents that dominated the box office before 1920.  He waved his hands in the air in a grand theatrical gesture, borrowed from Norma Desmond in the film Sunset Boulevard, saying:

We had faces then… I AM big… it’s the pictures that got small.

Oh, Brad, he laughed to himself, you are such a movie fag… well you’re lucky you are living in the present instead of the 1920s, because there would have been little chance of you breaking into the movies, let alone having glamour photographs done of yourself. Thank heavens a black guy can get lead roles these days.

He rummaged in his backpack for the phonograph record he had sent for as a surprise.  He had spent hours trolling the Internet trying to find a recording of the opera singer Lucy von Dorfen for his boss, Lydia.  He knew that she was collecting data for what he now had indelibly etched in his head as their SSS project, and she had mentioned that she was intrigued by this particular singer/actress, but she had never actually heard a recording of her voice.  And here it was, at last.  All he had to do now was find a suitable record player that would allow them to hear Lucy von Dorfen sing.  If the search of the junk stores didn’t yield the right kind, he could always scour the prop department, or, as a final resort, another search on the Internet.  He wanted to have it all set up so that he would have it for Lydia’s ten-year anniversary party at the studio tomorrow after work.

Brad grabbed his backpack and headed to the parking lot of the studio.  He was pleased to see his new, white, pre-owned 230i series BMW nestled in the unnamed parking spot next to the one marked Lydia Winslow.  It had taken a few years to get where he was in the movie business, but at twenty-six, he felt that he was doing okay for a black guy from Phoenix, Arizona, the whitest city in America. The joke was that all black people in Phoenix were athletes and celebrities, but his father was a business executive and his mother a teacher at Phoenix College.

By his reckoning, he had nothing to be discontented about.  He had a college education, a great job and a handsome boyfriend, who he hoped would pop the question before they were both old and grey.  But his boyfriend,