Revenge by Magic: Hexe, #8

By Rex Baron

Having taken full possession of Lydia's body, Helen revels in the new life and power she has acquired.

 

What's more, she now has control over Lydia's psychometric abilities.

 

Intent on maintaining control of Lydia's body, Helen strikes a deal to use these abilities help locate the Nazi gold.

 

But Lydia has refused to just give up and surrender quietly.

 

And so have her ancestors.

 

It's going to be a fight to the death.

 

Only one soul per body can survive.

 

 

Revenge by Magic is the final volume 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 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393813767

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

Magic: When Ruthless Ambition is not Enough

––––––––

H E X E

WITCHES, WARRIORS, MAGIC & MURDER

By Rex Baron

––––––––

V O L U M E  E I G H T

REVENGE BY MAGIC

Hexe (this series of books) is a work of fiction.

While some of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are based on real people and events, everything that happens to them are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

This book Copyright © 2019, 2020 Isobella Crowley, Rex Baron

Cover Design by Jeff Brown

Cover copyright © ProsperityQM LLC

ProsperityQM LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [e-mail]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

ProsperityQM LLC

1500 South Lamar Blvd, 1050

Austin, TX 78704

First US edition, 2019, 2020

Version 1.01.02

Hexe (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are copyright © 2019, 2020 by Isobella Crowley, Rex Baron

Table of Contents

Dedication

Author’s Forward

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Author Notes

Social Links

Dedication

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

— Rex

REVENGE BY MAGIC

HEXE VOLUME 8

JIT Beta Readers

Brian Roberts

Kimberley Beaulieu

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

Elizabeth Winslow’s house, England, 2018

––––––––

Elizabeth Winslow had just opened her eyes from a deep meditation.  She had been using the powers of her mind in higher currents of Causal Thought to pose a question. ‘Is evil merely a vibrational quality that acts on matter, thereby corrupting it, or does it exist as an actual substance or chemical in certain objects and beings that are polarized differently from the ordinary bi-polarized nature of most things, which contain both good and evil?’ In other words... is evil tangible and real?  Her brain had wrestled long and hard with the idea, like Jacob wrestling the Angel of the Lord in the book of Genesis.

After the meditation, which lasted more than an hour, she rose from her lotus position on the living room rug and trotted off to the kitchen to put the kettle on.  She watched the steam rise up from the squat little earthen vessel and her mind was drawn back to a time, over thirty years before, when she and the dazzling Marc Augenbech had huddled together and watched in terror as vapors of evil swirled around them menacingly, like death ashes caught in a tempest of wickedness.

She had not questioned the nature of evil in those days, not as she did now.  She had been in love with that beautiful, foolish man, and had done his bidding without a thought given to the impact it would have on her life, or even the consequences to her immortal Soul. She had given herself to him, because he desperately needed her, and, in the end, when she did what she had to do to keep his evil intentions in check, she had no idea that she was carrying his child.  He was, of course, Lydia’s father, and she had told her daughter some small details about him and his notorious mother, but she seldom spoke of him. Instead, she watched her child as she grew, scrutinizing her for some small signs of wickedness that she might have inherited from her corrupt and ambitious in-laws. Fortunately she found none.  What she did find was that her daughter, this product of her own loneliness and Marc’s ruthless ambition, had developed a seemingly magical talent of her own and possessed the gift of reading objects from their core.

Elizabeth had never actually married Marc, but she had intentionally failed to mention that to anyone other than the kindly Miss Auriel, who had extended a welcomed invitation to go back with her to a small village in England, and stay there until the infant Lydia was delivered.  She remained in England and in the decades that followed, she studied the ancient Wicca Ways that Miss Auriel practiced. She found out that there were people, on both sides of good and evil, who invested their lives in the acquisition and the management of power.  She learned to read tarot cards and continued to study the impressions of imagery on the mind. She tried to master how to project her thoughts into form and create a reality from something that, at an early stage, had been nothing more than an idea.

After all these years, Elizabeth had finally discovered her own gifts and had become well-known within the learned circles of the Metaphysical and the Occult as a scholar and a brilliant teacher.  It was in her blood.  After all, she was the descendant of a powerful line of witches and the great niece of a famous and talented young opera star, Lucy von Dorfen.

Elizabeth pried her mind away from her reverie and smiled down at the homely little teapot that had belonged to her savior, Miss Auriel.  The old woman, who had rescued her during the earthquake that terrible night so long ago, had died when Lydia was only six.  She had always said that the child should be initiated into the Kraft when she was seven years old, but she had not lived to keep that promise, and Lydia was soon off to a series of English boarding schools for specially gifted children.  It was no wonder that she would become such a big Hollywood success, Elizabeth told herself.  But just as that prideful, motherly thought touched down in her brain, she heard the telephone ring from the coffee table in the front drawing room.  Carrying her cup of tea, she shuffled in to answer it and heard a familiar voice on the other end of the call.

It was Nathan, Lydia’s fiancé.

Hello, Elizabeth, his voice came in from California, strong and clear across a continent and an ocean.  I’m sorry to disturb you, and I’m never quite sure about the time zone thing... so, I hope this is a good time.

Hello, dear boy, Elizabeth chirped brightly in her acquired British accent.  I do hope you’re well.

Yes, I am, Nathan answered.

So nice to hear from you, Elizabeth answered with a note of expectation in her voice that conveyed she realized, straightaway that this was more than a social call.

Well, actually, I’m calling about Lydia, Nathan replied.  Are you near a computer?  I’ve sent you a link to something.  I’d like to show it to you and get your take on it.

Elizabeth shuffled over to her work desk, pushed up the sleeves of her Irish cable-knit sweater and logged on.

I’m in, she said, after a minute. Shall I check my e-mail?

"Yes... I sent you a link.  Click on that and it should open to this morning’s Los Angeles Times."

Elizabeth opened the file from across the Atlantic and saw a newspaper’s Arts and Leisure section with a two-column photograph of a woman in the arms of a handsome young man.  She was frozen in mid-action of a theatrical dance move, thrown backward, while the lips of the man rested seductively at her throat.

Goodness, Elizabeth explained.  But Nathan, dear, I don’t understand why you are sending this to me.

Look closer, Nathan urged.  He could hear an audible gasp from the other end of the call, as Elizabeth read the caption below the photograph: Producer Lydia Winslow brings old Hollywood glamour back to Tinseltown... but is it all just for show or is there more behind that Rudolph Valentino kiss than meets the eye?

That’s Lydia, Elizabeth stated the obvious in amazement.  I never, in my life, would have expected her to be so... so... I’m at a loss for words.  And what’s more, she has black hair... Nathan... when did all of this come about?

Nathan was silent for a moment, then made his confession.

Well, to be honest, I’m not really sure.  She seemed fine... then, a week or so ago, she showed up at dinner looking and acting like a different person.  She had cut and dyed her hair and even asked me for a cigarette.  Now I ask you, can you see the idea of Lydia smoking as even within the realm of possibility?

How did she explain her actions?  What did she say? Elizabeth asked with concern.

She didn’t explain.  She just launched into me, goading me and acting bored and annoyed.  Finally, she started shouting, in a public restaurant, that I should get out.  She told me to piss off, as you folks would say.  So, I did.  I thought she’d come round, and even apologize, but she hasn’t answered my calls or texts in well over a week.

I see, Elizabeth answered, as her mind churned with the possibilities.

So, what do you think? Nathan asked.  Any suggestions on how to get her to talk to me?

We’ll have to get her back first, Elizabeth answered succinctly.

What do you mean?  Back from where? Nathan asked in bewilderment.  She’s not gone.

Elizabeth pondered a moment before she formulated an answer to his confusion.

She’s not gone physically... but I can assure you, the woman in that photograph is not my daughter.

What do you mean?

I realize you have little understanding of such things, and the world you live in does not support such notions, Elizabeth explained.  But from what I see here, someone else is using Lydia’s body like a motel, and I shudder to think what kind of goings-on are taking place while her consciousness is overtaken by this woman with the black hair.

This is unbelievable, Nathan scoffed. You are actually suggesting that some kind of possession has taken place and this horrible, rude woman is camped out in Lydia’s body.

In a word... yes.

Nathan was silent for a long moment, while he tried to comprehend what Elizabeth was telling him.

Let’s just say, for the hell of it, that what you say is true, he ventured a comment, trying to place the idea in the realm of logic.  If it is true that our Lydia is possessed, what can we do about it, and how the hell do you deal with something like that?

Elizabeth had barely heard his question, as her mind struggled to create a plan of action.  After a moment, she was aware of Nathan’s voice on the cell.

I will tell you what you must do, she said, interrupting his panicked monologue. First, understand that dark, low energy cannot exist in the same space with higher frequencies.  In other words... low vibrations will be expunged by bringing in pure, clean and higher frequency vibrations.  Do you have a key to her flat?

Yes.

Good.  When she is out, go to her house and place a bouquet of white flowers in every room, Elizabeth explained. That will help raise the vibration of the apartment, and when this woman comes in, she will feel nauseous and weak.  You might also burn some sage and, if you can find it, sprinkle some holy water around to lift the vibration, so that she will feel uncomfortable and agitated.  The more agitated she feels, the better chance a split will occur in her psyche and our poor, dear Lydia might find an opportunity to break through and take her body back.

This is hard to understand...  I’m a numbers guy... none of it adds up, Nathan replied with a sigh.  I’ll do it. It’s not like I know what else to do...

Elizabeth hastened to end the call with Nathan, exchanging a half-dozen pleasantries before she was able to extricate herself from the conversation.  She had given him some simple tasks that contained the most basic principles of magic.  She had suggested these small actions as a way of keeping him busy, to occupy his mind with positive actions rather than charging him with the responsibility of doing anything of real magical value.  For that, she would have to go back into her deepest meditation and call forth the one person who she knew she could trust above all others, her dear, departed friend, Miss Auriel.

• • •

After a hearty lunch, to ground her personal energies and give her strength, Elizabeth drew the curtains in the drawing room and folded herself into the lotus position on the floor. She touched her thumbs to the tips of her index fingers and allowed her mind to fall backwards in her consciousness, until she was floating in a warm dark void filled with distant voices and the glow of living lights behind the mists of time.  As she ventured into this timeless space, the Madre Negra, or black mother, from which all things are born, she could hear the soft rustling of wings and understood the metaphor of the angels that were thought to carry messages from this eternal place to those bound by the tyranny of on-going, chronological time.

With her ethereal voice, Elizabeth called out the name of her friend, again and again, and searched the clouded landscape of her etheric mind for Miss Auriel’s familiar face.  Suddenly, she heard a rustling nearby and turned to the east to see her little friend, her head encircled in light like a gilded saint, smiling beneficently from behind a veil of mist.  As she came closer, Elizabeth recognized her old companion, looking much younger than she was when she had last seen her, wearing her favorite brown tweed jacket and skirt.  She appeared as she had looked before Elizabeth had even met her, but she was recognizable all the same.  Elizabeth’s heart leapt with the joy of affection when she felt the warm touch of Miss Auriel’s hand on her shoulder.

My, my... you are looking well, Miss Auriel’s voice pierced the mist around them, seeming to echo off in all directions and penetrate