The Weaver’s Box-part 1


She sat staring at the flame, as had her mother before her, and her grandmother, and their mothers and grandmothers for countless generations before them.  Each flame was different and she wondered what this one would bring.  Her eyes softened their vision and she reached out to cup her hands around the candle itself. Cool, it was, cool and smooth, like precious white stone, only softer. The flame flickered then flared and dipped to the right, calling her attention back.  As she stared, the flame grew more intense, expanding its light now until the corona filled the entire cave.  Ah, yes, it was happening, that old familiar floating sensation.  She allowed her eyes to grow softer still and then she saw it, the dark tunnel that brought the Visions. 

The Weaver’s Box

Part one

Sonsee woke with a start. The sun was still below the horizon and classes were hours away. Yet there seemed an urgency about this day, like something needed to happen and happen quickly. The word “ordained” came to her, but from where she knew not.

Sonsee brushed back the silken coverlet and allowed her body to drink in the damp morning air. Sonsee-array was her full name and it meant Morning Star, so she did what she had done every birthday morning since a young child. She slipped her feet over the edge of her bed and sat up, looking for Venus, the morning star, as it shone through her bedroom window. It did, as it had every birthday morning since she could remember.  A good omen for her 13th year.

She once again marveled at the changes that had taken place in her body.  Boney straightness had taken on curves and a budding chest promised much more to come. Just the week before her body had given forth the most important sign of all. She was a woman now. Life held so much promise.

Why am I so unsettled, she wondered as she rose to cross to the window and, for the first time, noticed a wooden box on her nightstand. A treasure box, she thought as she carefully took it in both hands. But who had put it there? Certainly not her father. His presents were always lavish, gold or silver, and usually covered in fine jewels. Sonsee had always wondered if he was trying to make up for something, perhaps the loss of her mother, his adored wife.

Her mind drifted back to the day they lost her, ten years ago, the day of her brother’s expected birth. But of a brother who was never to be.

“Take the child’s life, but save my wife,” her father had roared at the doctors when the child would not appear, its head too big for its mother’s small pelvis. And they had tried, but it was too late.

Her mother lived only long enough to call for her most faithful servant, Nanna. Then, hugging Sonsee tightly to her chest, her mother had looked to Nanna and whispered, “Raise this child as if she were your own. Protect her. You know what to do.” It was Sonsee’s earliest memory.

Sonsee returned to the box. It was not jeweled, but old with a patina that told of the many loving hands that had probably caressed it over the years. It was not from her father. Could it be from Nanna?

Sonsee turned the box to inspect it and it was then that the light of Venus reflected off the copper bands holding it together. She had never seen such a beautiful color, deep and rich, yet delicate. It seemed to draw her in.  The copper latches were not ornate, yet they were elegant. Such a contrast to the rich and luxurious life Sonsee-array had known.

“You have found it then.” Nanna, tall, dark-skinned, and with silver streaking her ebony hair, stood at the door smiling at her. “It was your mother’s. It is yours now. Open it.”

Fingers trembling, Sonsee pulled back the latch as Nanna sat on her bed beside her. “Be careful, don’t spill it. And do not let your father know.”

“Why?” Sonsee asked as she pulled back the lid.

“There is magic in there and your father believes your mother was killed for it.”

Her questioning eyes darted to Nanna’s. She had never heard this before. “But she died in childbirth.”

“There are many ways to kill, many ways to make bad magic on those you envy, those you hate.”

“I do not understand, Nanna.”

“You will in time. Now, are you going to open your mother’s box?”

Carefully flipping the top back, Sonsee saw something woven. Imbedded in it were beads and a carefully crafted sea shell was attached with threads.  She lifted it. There were braided ties and bronze embellishments hanging off the bottom.

Nanna took the piece and placed it around Sonsee’s neck, securing it in the back. “Your mother was a master weaver. And she knew the art of weaving spells. This was hers, an amulet with a spell of great protection. These things are not to be worn lightly, but only when one is in need.” Nanna lifted the piece from over Sonsee’s head. “There is more in the box.”

Sonsee smoothed her nightgown over her lap and pushed it down forming a trough. Into it she poured the contents in the box, wooden tiles, black on one side but with pictures on the other.

“They are for Scrying, but you must know this: Any tool for Scrying can be used to change the future too, if you know how. They are very dangerous.”

The girl brushed her hands over the tiles, looking first at this one and then at another. She barely heard Nanna’s words until they cut through her revelry. “Sonsee-array, look at me! ”

Startled, the girl looked up.  “Never, never ever tell anyone about them. Do you understand me?”

She had never seen her Nanna so stern, so demanding before. “Yes,” the girl replied. “Never.”

“When you get home today, we will start your lessons on spell weaving. For now, we must put these away.”

Together they stacked the wooden tiles in the box and placed the woven amulet on top.

Just then there was a knock at the door. “Sonsee, my daughter, are you dressed?”

“Just a moment,” Nanna replied as she handed Sonsee her velvet robe and then shoved the treasure box under the bed covers, fluffing them up so the box would be well hidden.

As she slipped the robe on, Sonsee admired the contrast of her translucent mauve dressing gown against the deep green velvet. Colors had meaning to them. And vibration, Sonsee knew that. She sensed that in each color there was a promise, perhaps a spell to be woven. Was that what Nanna wanted to teach her?

“Coming,” Sonsee called to her father and with the grace born of her station in this world, Sonsee opened her door to greet him.

Breakfast passed as it most often did. Her father was a man of few words. Some thought him too melancholy, too stand-offish. But Sonsee knew better. He had been a loving father, teaching her many things, always tucking her in at night.

Sonsee rose from the table. “I must get ready for classes now,” she said as she started to leave.

But her father stopped her, taking her hand in his. “Sonsee-array, you have become a woman, I hear, and a beautiful one at that. Each day you remind me of your mother more and more. She would be proud today.”

“Thank you, father.”

“When you get home, I have a surprise for you, so do not dawdle.”

“No, father, I will not.”

He stood and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and then he did something she had never experienced before. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I am sending Gryffud with you today. And everyday from now on. Daughter, there are those that would harm you if they could. Gryffud will keep you safe.”

Then it seemed he pushed her away and, with tears in his eyes, he turned and walked out of the room.

This had been her second hint that day. Was something bad going to happen? Perplexed now, the unsettled feeling returned. Sonsee returned to her room where Nanna had set out her clothes. But Sonsee did not want to wear the blue Nanna had chosen for her. She wanted to wear deep green. It was her mother’s favorite color, she knew. And set off her green eyes. If only I had red hair, she thought. But instead she had her mother’s deep copper skin and raven black hair. Still, as she surveyed herself in the mirror, she liked what she saw. Womanhood. What would it bring? With a smile, she turned away and called for her Nanna.

But it was Gryffud who appeared when she opened her dressing room door. A sense of foreboding seemed to emanate from the man, darkening her mood once again. She did not like the him. He was gruff, and bulky, and, well, not at all like the servants she had known. Crusted, that was the word to describe him and she wondered why her father had said there were those that would hurt her and set this man to protect her. She had never known real fear, but now she felt its grip tighten around her. Then she remembered the amulet. Nanna said it was for protection.

“Just a minute,” she called to Gryffud as she raced to her bedroom. Once inside, she gently closed the door and reached under her covers. The treasure box was still there with the amulet inside. There, better, she thought as she slipped it around her neck.

The walk to school was peaceful enough as Gryffud trailed closely behind her. But he had not been allowed past the foyer. Sonsee watched as he pounded his fists and threatened the wrath of her father, but no argument would convince the Head Mistress otherwise. “She is safe with us,” the woman insisted. “No harm will come to her here. Now sit and wait.”

As the two were arguing, Sonsee slipped through a side door and to her classroom. There she and her friends discussed what girls have discussed over the ages—boys, and clothes, and parties. They would all be coming of age this spring and potential husbands would be paraded before them. Most of the girls favored two of the boys, both strong and able. But Sonsee-array thought she favored another. Quiet, sensible, and buried in his books—just like her father.

One lesson drifted into another as morning turned toward noon and finally lunch came. Leaving their books and papers behind, the girls headed for the solarium, talking and giggling all the way. Sonsee was right in the midst of the chatter when she saw the Head Mistress beckon to her. What now? Had Gryffud done something to embarrass her? She’d be talking to her father when she got home, that was for sure.

But it was not Gryffud on the woman’s mind. “Where did you get that?” she asked as she pointed to the woven amulet.

“It was my mother’s.”

“Where is your mother that she let you wear such a thing to school?”

Blushing and shuffling her feet, Sonsee-array wondered if she had transgressed. “She’s dead,” Sonsee replied. “My Nanna gave it to me.”

“How old are you?”


“Have you had your first bleeding time?”

“I have. Last week.”

“Come,” the woman said, “We must see someone.”

Sonsee turned back toward her classroom, but the woman grabbed her by the shoulder digging her sharp fingernails in.

“I am going to get my books,” the girl explained, trying to twist away.

“Leave them. You will be back.”

But she never was.

Kian and Aidan





Late fall passed into early spring. Jimbo finished the cabin and moved in before the first snowfall. “Cozy as a bug in a rug” was Aidan’s comment. Rustic, cozy, and “just Jimbo’s style.”

Things had returned to normal for nearly everyone. Only Owen experienced anything “weird.” He had been walking through town when he spotted Kian with deep black hair, the kind of black that reflected blue in the moonlight. He called after her, but the woman disappeared around the corner. Seconds later, he rounded that same corner, but the woman was gone.

Perplexed, he called Kian that same evening to ask why she had ignored him like that. Kian only said, “You must be seeing things. My hair is still red.”

A doppelganger was Jimbo’s explanation. Aidan just shrugged and said, “Now if it was Raven with red hair I would worry.” The incident was forgotten.

Work on the Book of Knowings continued at a slow pace. Tied up in Washington DC, Aidan could only get away on weekends. It was then that he and Kian poured through the Book, but it was all mundane—births, deaths, years of drought, years of plenty.

Finally bored with the everyday, Kian decided to search further back and randomly chose a page for Aidan to translate. But he could not. Both language and alphabet were unknown even to his cadre of experts. So Kian decided to do what she had done as a child. She took the page in her hands and let the vision come. It was a long tale about a Weaver’s Box.

The first part of The Weaver’s Box will be presented next week.


Photo attribution:     By Ji-Elle (Own work) [GFDL ( or CC BY-SA 3.0 (, via Wikimedia Commons

Willing Sacrifice: Chapter 32




October 31st



Kian stood at her dining table as the others stood with her.

“Here, here!” Owen declared raising his glass of champagne. “Here’s to the Ark. Home at last.”

“Here, here,” the other three replied raising their glasses to meet his.

“And here’s to my parents,” Kian added with a strong touch of sadness in her voice.

“To Red and Cat,” the other three replied before lowering their glasses and taking a sip.

Kian had found the champagne in Jacob’s cellar when she and Owen had gone back to remove the Ark from its stone sarcophagus. It was twenty years old and, they suspected, intended to toast the return of Red and Cat all those years before. It seemed fitting they should open it now.

“So,” Aidan said to Jimbo when the three had taken their seats at the dining table once again, “you thought more about my job offer?”

“Hey, buddy, not that I don’t appreciate it, but business suits are for jerks. But you can call me anytime you need your sorry ass saved,” he added before dishing up a double helping of mashed potatoes. “Who woulda’ thought it? Scotty sitting in Power’s old seat. A director for the FBI. Congrats, man.”

Aidan took the potatoes from Jimbo and served himself a large portion before handing them to Kian.

It did not take a psychic to know what was on Aidan’s mind. He wanted her to move to D.C. with him. He had even talked about marriage. But she wasn’t ready to leave her Hudson Valley home. Not now. Maybe not ever. “So,” she said turning to Jimbo. “How’s the cabin coming?”

“Too slowly.” Jimbo served himself three generous pieces of roast beef. “It’s those assholes in that building department of yours. Shit, half the stuff they’re making me put in, I’ll have to rip out before I can live there.”

“I know,” Owen replied. “They made me hard-wire smoke detectors just to put in four lousy steps. Outside, no less, on my deck. Jimbo, pass the gravy, can you?”

Kian took the bowl of stuffing from the sideboard and passed it to Aidan. “So I take it nobody’s found any evidence of the demon.”

“Not in any of the local reports,” Owen said.

“Nothing’s come into the FBI,” Aidan added.

“Good, I don’t sense anything either,” Kian said.

“Well with nobody to feed it anger or fear, it should dissipate soon enough,” Jimbo commented. “Power and Raven are gone, nobody knows about it but us, so I think we have seen the last of the demon.”

“One last toast then,” Kian said raising her glass. “Here’s to us and to getting back to normal.”

“To us and to normal,” they all replied.




The old lady sat huddled over her crystal ball. Stooped with age, Power’s mother had never intended to outlive her son. But she had intended to see a grandchild born, a legitimate grandchild. All she had was some half-breed. One he fathered on Raven, a whore he picked up on K Street, no doubt. Still, when you want something you make due with what you have. And I want that Ark.

The old lady tapped her withering fingernail on the crystal ball, then pushed her wheelchair back as she picked up the telephone. “Bring me the girl.”


Willing Sacrifice: Chapter 31






Ignoring the scorching heat, Owen pointed to the pile of burning timbers that had been Jacob’s cabin. Despite the water poured onto it, the fire had caught again, this time with an unnatural fury. Owen watched as the flames pranced around, shot into the air, and concentrated themselves in just one area, the area near the old cupboard.

Within seconds a breeze blew through, and then the wind picked up. It whirled and twirled and the cupboard itself was engulfed in red-hot flames that shot twenty feet into the air. The fire was now so hot, so out of control, the men had to move back. All the men could do was stare as the cupboard was consumed and, minutes later, turned to ash. A stronger gust of wind blew in from the north to carry the ashes away.

“Shit, never seen that happen before,” Higgins said.

Then the dance of wind and flames stopped as suddenly as it had started. The pit had been cleared.

“What the…? Man, this fire isn’t natural. That should never happen.”

Deep down close to the bulkhead, there was now a cavity, a dark hole into the earth.

“I’m going down,” announced Owen as he walked over and looked into the pit.

“Oh no, you are not. Not while I’m in charge.” Higgins was emphatic. “You saw what just happened. Fires are unpredictable.”

“Not this one. I need a ladder.”

Higgins ignored Owen and directed his men to point their hoses at the remaining flames, now subdued but moving to consume what had not already fallen to their fury.

Owen quietly backed off, retrieved a ladder from the garden shed, and lowered it. As it came to rest on the ground, the flames moved away from him leaving only wisps of smoke.

Amazed, Higgins and his men just stared mouths hanging open. Owen used their moment of distraction to maneuver his body onto the ladder.

“Get back here,” Higgins bellowed when he saw what Owen was doing, but Owen ignored him. Higgins turned and called to his men, “Get me a proper ladder. Shit!”

At that moment Kian emerged from the cellar. Face covered in soot, she pulled herself onto solid ground. “Aidan’s down there.” She ran to Owen, grabbed his arm, and pulled him toward the dark hole. “Shot. Unconscious.”

As he followed Kian down the steps into the darkness, Owen heard Higgins bark to his men, “Come on, hurry up. Get me that ladder.”

When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Owen found Aidan lying on the ground in a pool of blood. “Be careful,” Kian said. “We don’t want to re-open the wound.”

Owen knew there was no way to get Aidan to safety, not without supporting him under his wounded shoulder. He ordered Kian to take the other side. Together they hauled Aidan to his feet. Aidan groaned. “I can walk,” he struggled to say as he moved one foot in front of the other. He took two steps and collapsed again, his full weight born by Kian and Owen once more.

As they reached the bottom step, Owen saw Higgins and one of his men half way down, coming to them. The two men grabbed Aidan and hauled him up. Then Higgins hoisted Aidan on his shoulders and climbed the ladder out of the pit. He lowered Aidan down to the stretcher next to the two waiting ambulance attendants. Aidan was unconscious now, pale and his breath came in short gasps. The wound was bleeding again.

“Not good,” Owen heard one of the paramedics say before the two lifted the stretcher into the ambulance and slammed the doors.

Just then the final section of wall collapsed, filling the pit with flaming debris once more.

“I told you it wasn’t safe,” Higgins shouted at Owen as the firemen backed away again.

Kian whispered, “Bless you Paralda and all the Kings,” before she fell weeping into Owen’s arms.


Photo Attribution:

By South Yorkshire Fire & Rescue (Flickr: Portable cabin fire, ASDA Handsworth) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (, via Wikimedia Commons


Willing Sacrifice: Chapter 30






With the back of her hand, Cat wiped at the blood running down her cheek, blood that had mixed with her sweat. The sun beat down into the stone circle, and Cat squinted into it. There were no shadows here, no cooling shade. Only the unrelenting sun, humid and almost suffocating now. Light, unrelenting light thrown on the darkness of an old feud.

The demon rushed at Cat for the third time, but Cat stood her ground. “Stop this,” she pleaded, “I am not afraid of your pet. It was our forefathers, yours and mine, who first vanquished that thing and trapped it far under ground. We both know it from the stories of old. It will not scare me. Leave this between us.”

Raven continued to circle and Cat followed her dance. “Put down your garrote, Raven, so we can talk. Sister to sister. Blood to blood.”

“You are not my sister, and you are not my blood,” Raven spit out. “No sister would take what was mine. I was born the Keeper, not you.”

Arguing with Raven was futile. Somewhere deep inside Cat knew that. But still she needed to try. Somehow she had to get through. “Sister, I do not understand why you left me that day on the mountain. You were my warrior, my guardian. You gave your pledge freely and together we could have broken through. Gotten to safety. Together we could have held the Ark. I do not understand what came between us.”

“I am not your lackey, your guardian. And I am not some spare part waiting for you to die. There can be only one Keeper. Me. I was born to it. The Ark should have been mine. You stole it from me and left me with nothing.”

“This was not my choosing, Raven, you know that. I would have been content to spend my life in the High Valley. It was the prophesy that sent me out. You know that.”

“Prophesy? Prophesy? Some mumbo-jumbo from an old woman. I was important until you came along, born with your golden hair and then that stupid prophesy. I was the next Keeper.”

Cat continued to circle, staying out of her sister’s reach. “Did you think I wanted to leave, to go live with strangers, to be brought up in foreign ways? I was scared every day, and I cried every night wishing I was back with you and our people.” Tears mingled with sweat stung Cat’s eyes, but she continued to circle, each time maneuvering closer to Red’s body limp lying on the ground. “Raven, I never wanted this.”

Close to Red’s body now, Cat glanced down to see if he lived but she dared not kneel to find out. It would be her end.

“He’s dead, you know,” Raven said. “I never fail. Not with Jacob, not with Red, and I will not fail with you either.”



Jimbo adjusted the olive-drab bandana covering his shaven head. Soaked through with sweat, he noted. He wiped his sweaty palms on his fatigues then reached down and wiped both hands in the dust below his feet.

He checked his smartphone for the fourth time and, yet again, there was no reply to his message. It was not like Aidan to ignore him and that worried Jimbo. He sent his senses out, but still did not feel anything. He tried texting Kian and when he got no reply, he decided to get to his truck and drive to Jacob’s. At least the air conditioning would cool him off.

Just as he was climbing into the cab, he heard the screaming. Raven. He looked up into the blinding sun and felt more than saw a dark menace spiraling above. The demon. He sent his senses out once again and this time felt an evil coming from the Stone Circle. He’d have a three minute jog to get there. Damn this stifling air.

As he approached the circle, he heard the two women arguing and he slowed his pace. Behind the largest of the standing stones, out of Raven’s view, he stopped to survey the area. Red was down and the two women circled one another. Raven called insults and Cat tried to calm her sister, tried to talk reason to her. Jimbo could see the two women were evenly matched in skill, but he worried that Raven’s rage would give her an advantage. Cat seemed much too calm for his liking. No adrenaline to fuel her fire. That was not a good thing, at least not according to his training.

Still out of Raven’s line of sight, Jimbo stepped from behind one of the standing stones. From there he could rush Raven, take her from behind, end this once and for all.

“Stay out of this.” Cat’s words surprised him and he stopped where he was. “This is between Raven and me. Stay out of it.”

Raven did not flinch. She circled until she caught sight of Jimbo. So much for surprise. Jimbo edged past the two women stopping at Red’s fallen form. He stooped down beside the older man and checked his carotid.

“Dead,” Raven told him. “Don’t bother.” She had not taken her eyes off Cat.

Unfortunately, Raven was right. Jimbo knew a dead man when he saw one. No doubt about this one, either. But he called out, “No, not dead, not even close.” With a gloat, he added, “Care to come over here and find out?” He knew she would not take the bait. Still it would put her off guard, even if only a bit.



The firemen knew their jobs and were skilled at containing fires within old growth forests. They concentrated on the outer areas, soaking them and then working toward the cabin. It was hot and muggy work, Owen could see, and the harsh smoke stung their nostrils and eyes. There was no wind–not even a breeze. For them a blessing among curses.

Owen approached one of the firemen, a friend from high school. “Higgins,” he said, “Kian Buchanan is caught under there.”

“Under where?” Higgins looked perplexed. “There is no ‘under there’ that I can see.”

“There is,” Owen replied, “a cellar. There is a bulkhead on the other side of the cabin that gets you down there.” He motioned for Higgins to follow.

When the men got there, the bulkhead was a pit of flaming debris. “No way to get down there now,” Higgins said, but called two of his men. “Get some water pressure down there.”

The men brought their hoses around and focused on the bulkhead. It would take a while, quite a while, maybe even hours to get the savage fire under control. Owen knew Kian did not have hours. Had she really said she was shot?



“The Ark is mine,” Raven repeated for the fourth time, not that Jimbo was counting. His instinct was to end it now, to rush Raven and subdue her. But Cat had insisted he stay out of it. It was something Jimbo understood, sometimes two people just have to settle things between them. “Well, I’ll just wait and watch and see what happens,” he mumbled to himself as he leaned against one of the standing stones, trying to look unconcerned and scraping the dirt from beneath his fingernails with a twig. But for sure Raven was not going to hurt anyone else and she was not getting away. Not this time. He’d see to that.

“No, Raven, it belongs with Kian now. She’s the Keeper. What’s done can’t be undone,” Cat said. “Why can’t you be at peace with that?”

“Kian? Kian?” Raven sneered as she continued circling. “That sniveling brat? Would you like to know where she is right now? She’s roasting alive. Burning like the witch she is. Under Jacob’s cabin.”

Dropping the twig, Jimbo turned to look at the sky and sniff at the air. Smoke. Too much smoke. And where was Aidan?

“Yes,” Raven continued. “Your daughter and her preppy boyfriend are roasting alive under Jacob’s cabin.”

“You fuckin’ bitch,” Jimbo roared as he sprang at Raven, knocking her to the ground. She squirmed and wriggled from his grasp, but he sprang forward and knocked her to the ground again. He was on top of her grabbing the hand that tried to claw his face. It was then he felt a knife bite deep into his gut. The pain shot through him radiating both up and down his body. He winced. From deep within Jimbo called to his animal nature. Grabbing the knife and pulling it from her grasp, he held it high and, with all his weight, plunged it down. Raven rolled to one side. It bit into her just below her collar bone.

The effort caused Jimbo’s head to spin, and he shook it to regain his senses. He rolled off of her, panting and forcing his breath to calm, to slow, to give him the oxygen he needed. He reached over to touch his wound and, pulling his hand back, saw the sticky blood covering it.

He heard Cat crying softly. He looked to find her kneeling on the other side of Raven, her face buried in her hands. “It did not have to be this way,” he heard Cat say. “We should have shared it.”

Then he saw Raven grab the knife and pull it from her shoulder.

“Watch out!” Jimbo could barely choke out the words as he tried to grab Raven’s hand.

But Raven did not go after Cat. Gripping the knife in her good hand, blood streaming down her chest, Raven turned toward Jimbo. Jimbo jerked to his right.

“No, Raven, no.” The sadness in Cat’s voice surprised Jimbo as he rolled out of Raven’s way. Then he saw Cat leap at Raven, pulling her away.

The two women wrestled on the ground, first Cat on top, then Raven, then Cat on top again. Jimbo tried to get himself up, but the pain dug into his side. His breath quickened its pace again, and his head spun. Then, through eyes stinging with dirt and sweat, Jimbo saw Raven shove the knife deep into her sister’s chest. Cat fell forward onto her sister, dead.

Jimbo struggled to his knees. He wiped his sweaty slippery hands in the dirt and, bent over with pain, reached for the garrote still clenched in Raven’s fist.

Raven struggled to push her sister’s body away. Cat had given Jimbo this opportunity and he was not about to waste it. Summoning all the strength he had left in his body, Jimbo pulled the garrote from Raven’s fist, wrapped the garrote around her neck and pulled hard. With a satisfying snap, Raven was gone.

Then, gasping for air, Jimbo collapsed bleeding onto the ground.



Photo Attribution:

Temple Wood Stone Circle      By Rosser1954 (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (, via Wikimedia Commons

Willing Sacrifice: Chapter 29





Using the light from her cell phone, Kian could see Aidan was bleeding but the bullet had gone clean through. Kian did not think it hit an artery as the blood did not come in spurts, but still she did not like how quickly the pool of blood grew under him. He would need to get to an Emergency Room quickly or he would die.

Kian reached into her backpack and retrieved a pair of scissors. From her tee shirt she cut strips for bandages and bound the wound as best she could. The cellar was cool, too cool for just her cami top, but she did not want to use Aidan’s clothing. He was in shock and needed to stay warm more than she did.

As she stood, she could see the pool of blood growing larger. She needed to apply pressure to the wound, but first she needed to reach Owen to let him know they were trapped. “Please, Owen, know how to get down here,” she mumbled just as she realized the key was sitting on the floor next to her. It was safe from Raven, but nobody else could use it either. Would Owen know how to fashion another one?

Kian circled the small room, holding the phone as high as she could and watching to see if any bars appeared. She circled once and got nothing. She tried again, this time more slowly. On the far side of the cellar, she felt a slight movement of air. That must be the ventilation she reasoned, and stood there for one minute before she saw one bar appear. Holding the phone in the air so as not to lose the signal, she dialed Owen. It did not go through, so she tried again, and again. Finally on the fourth try, she heard it connect.


“Trapped. Under Jacob’s cabin. Hurry. Aidan shot.”

“Bad connection. Say again. Slowly this…,” the line fuzzed out and went dead. Kian hit her speed dial again and waited. The sound of falling timbers crashed above her head and then smoke filtered into the room. Had Raven set a fire near the ventilation shaft? Her one bar disappeared. As more smoke came in, she wondered how long before they would both die.


Raven made her way through the underbrush back toward her sister’s house. Cat would either be there or in the cave, she figured. Raven made it as far as the ridge when she spotted movement ahead. A deer? Or Cat? Or that big buffoon that was with that FBI agent?

She sniggered and allowed herself a few pleasurable moments as she envisioned Kian and the agent roasting alive under the old man’s cabin. Was the girl screaming? Frantic, the girl must be frantic by now. Or maybe, just maybe she had opened that cupboard and been hit with a wall of fire. And it was all over. Much too quickly for Raven’s liking. But the picture of her sister’s brat writhing in the flames, well, that was worth savoring. She’d have to cut back and see for herself, but not until her sister was dead, too.

Raven headed down the hill. Whoever it was she sensed in front of her, she’d surely catch them further along the trail. She kept to the underbrush and moved swiftly, but stopped when she saw three deer bounding down the far slope away from the stone chambers. It was unlike Cat to spook animals unless Cat wanted to be spotted. Even so, Raven knew she had the advantage. As long as she kept her patience.

Raven made her way up the far hill and crouched behind a fallen tree. And waited. No movement. No sound. She found a pebble and tossed it far to her left. When it hit a tree, she popped up to look, then ducked down quickly. Nobody. She needed to get closer, so she skirted the area until she found a tall pine, one she could climb.

Raven was sure Cat was around somewhere, Cat and her half-brained husband. Careful, Raven cautioned her anxious self as she pulled herself up the tree. Red was not so half-brained as she wanted to believe.


Owen had finished his paperwork. A judge had signed the warrant for Raven’s arrest, and a team was being formed to go find her.

Because he was dead on his feet, Owen’s captain ordered him home for a shower and sleep before returning to the station, preferably not before the afternoon.

Owen had other plans. He would check on Kian and nap at the caves. So, he drove back toward the Buchanan’s.

Out on the highway, Owen saw the dark smoke spiraling into the sky. Then Kian’s garbled call came through. Siren blaring, he sped through the cross roads, and turned left onto Jacob’s road arriving at the burning cabin minutes later.

He jumped out of his car, pulled out his cell, and punched 911 to summon the local fire department.

His eyes scanned the house and surrounding grounds. The fire had by then consumed the roof and upper portions of the walls. Hot burning sparks spit into the air. Small fires caught in the dry leaves surrounding the structure. Owen searched for something to put these out. He saw the open shed and quickly retrieved a shovel. He was beating at the flames when he heard the sound of far-off fire engines. Hurrying to pummel as much of the ground fire as he could before it set the forest ablaze, Owen ran headlong into the discarded kerosene can. Raven. Raven must have been here. This was no accident. This was arson.


Red watched Raven circle the stone structures and then climb the pine. He kept half his attention on her and the other half on his wife. Darn fool woman thought she could talk to her sister, reason with her. Red knew she’d only get herself killed. Something he’d risk his life to prevent.

Cat started to stand. He grabbed her arm, pulling her back down, the fear in his heart growing. “She’s still got that rifle,” he warned. “She’ll shoot.” Why does she never listen to me?

“What you see is not the sister I love. It is some stranger. Somewhere in there is my Gaagé, my sister Raven. Not what this world has made of her. I have to take the chance. I have to draw her out. I want to talk to her.”

From long experience Red knew he could not stop her. But he would do just about anything to give her the advantage. “Then wait, dear. She’ll come to you if you just wait.” He was relieved when Cat relaxed and settled next to him again.

Minutes later, Raven descended the tree and boldly walked toward the stone circle. Just outside it, she placed her rifle against one of the standing stones and untied the garrote from her waist. Cupping it in her right hand, she entered the stone circle.

“I know you are out there, Sister Dearest. Show yourself.”

In that instant, Red knew what he had to do. Older and less agile than Raven, he was not sure he would be able to subdue Raven. But he was sure he could take the garrote around his own neck, leaving Raven momentarily defenseless, giving Cat the advantage. Whether he lived would depend on his wife’s reflexes, and Raven’s strength and agility with the garrote.

He stood and, with more strength than he thought he had, Red hurled himself into the circle.


Raven caught movement behind her and, as she grabbed both ends of the garrote, she swung around to meet it. With one swift motion, she had the garrote around her victim’s neck, surprised to see it was Red, not Cat that she had ensnared. She gave the garrote a swift twist and, just as Cat leapt toward her, Raven heard Red’s neck pop.

Then, Raven felt herself go head-over-heels. She rolled away and scrambled to her feet. Holding the garrote in one hand, she swung it around her head as she moved menacingly toward her sister. Cat jumped back, but not before Raven, garrote still swinging, caught her in the cheek. Blood trickled down and soaked into her buckskins.

“Ashta-molon,” Raven screamed, “attend me. Now.”


Kian felt the room growing hotter, and she could now see whiffs of smoke curling around the cupboard that locked them in their hellish grave. The cupboard would eventually burn through, that much she knew. She hoped smoke inhalation would render them unconscious before the flames got to them. Still, and she laughed at herself for this useless action, she checked Aidan’s wound. The pool of blood under him had not grown bigger. His pulse was thready, but he was alive. Clearly in shock, but still alive.

And he was warm. She’d worried about that earlier. She wished that was all she had to worry about now. In fact she almost envied him. Lethargic, barely alert, Aidan barely stirred. If he was aware of their predicament, he did not show it. Maybe he had the sense to slow his body functions, to keep still so as to conserve his strength, so as to slow the bleeding, so as to preserve life as long as possible. She bent down and kissed him softly on the mouth. Had she imagined it or had a weak smile come across his face?

“I love you,” he murmured. And fell back into silence.

Now it was up to her. Her alone. And then it hit her, “The Ark! I can use the Ark!”



Photo Attribution:

By MC2 Corbin J. Shea [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Willing Sacrifice: Chapter 28, continued

Public Domain.jpeg


CHAPTER 28, continued


Kian knelt down behind the stonewall in Jacob’s garden. She hardly noticed Aidan pulling a leaf from her hair as she pushed on one end of the rock her father had identified for her. It swung out. Kian then retrieved a vial before pushing the rock back into place.

“This way.” She headed back to the metal bulkhead doors around the side of the cabin.

Aidan lifted one squeaking door while Kian lifted the other. “I don’t suppose Jacob had any WD40 down there did he?” Aidan asked. Kian shook her head.

At the bottom of the steps, she extracted the iron key from the vial and inserted it in the lock. The heavy oak door swung open effortlessly. Kian put the key back in the glass vial and put it in her backpack.

“Is this the only way out?” Aidan asked.

“Yes, afraid so.”

“I don’t like it,” Aidan said. “Rule number three, always have an escape.”

“So we go for number two, and get the heck out of here fast,” Kian replied.

The cellar was cool, a good fifteen degrees cooler than the garden outside. It was small, barely a ten foot cube and empty except for an old cupboard along the back wall. The floor was concrete, smooth and seamless, a contrast to the white washed brick walls chipped with age. Aidan ran his fingers along the wall. “The walls are old but the floor is new and so is the cupboard,” Aidan observed.

“Yes, Dad and Uncle Jacob added both the winter before my parents left.”

Kian retrieved a flashlight from the cupboard. It flicked on instantly. Jacob must have kept the batteries fresh.

She showed Aidan how to press the end of one of the boards on the cupboard. It popped out, and she removed it. There were small blocks of wood attached to the underside.

Aidan inspected it. “Now that’s a clever key.”

Kian sat on the floor. She set the board on its side and shoved it under the cupboard. She maneuvered it until she found the spot where it slipped in. Then she pushed it. Hard.

It took a couple of tries, but on the third push one end of the cupboard slid out, revealing a set of steps leading down into darkness.

“Take this.” Kian handed Aidan her backpack. “Now watch carefully. You take the second and then every other step as you go down. Remember that. Otherwise this thing will slam closed and I may not be able to get us out.” Kian shone the flashlight down the steps, then waved for Aidan to follow.

The two descended, careful where they stepped.

“The air is fresh down here, ” Aidan said. “Not musty at all.”

“Ventilated from the outside,” Kian replied.

In the back there was an open stone sarcophagus–a stone box. Kian knelt and placed the Ark and wings inside. Then she and Aidan placed the heavy stone lid on top.

“Done,” she said as Aidan offered his hand and Kian grabbed it to pull herself up. They stood side by side for a moment. Aidan reached over and touched Kian’s cheek. “You have a smudge,” he said, wiping it away.

“Look who’s talking,” she replied, wiping several smudges from the side of his face.

His lips were inches from hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek and her heart picked up its pace. Ignoring all the rules now, she arched her back and threw her arms around his neck. Their kiss lingered.



Raven, her breath heavy and deep, raced through the forest toward the cabin. She was pleased to note her warrior training as a young girl still served her well. Leaping over obstacles, now more intent on speed than stealth, Raven reached the cabin in less than 10 minutes. There, she circled on foot and found tracks to the stonewall. She followed them to the bulkhead door. No tracks leading away. Good. She had them now.

Raven climbed a nearby tree and hunkered down among the branches. Taking careful aim at the bulkhead, she drew her essence into the tree and, confident not even Aidan would feel her presence now, she waited.

Kill the agent and kidnap Kian, that was her plan. Then Cat would be sure to give up the Ark. And if not, well the girl was expendable.


“You are distracting me again,” Aidan said, brushing a few stray hairs out of her face.

“Oh, I like distracting you.”

“I like it too.” Aidan kissed her again, this time more deeply. She slid her hands down his back until they reached the firmness of his butt, then she pulled him even closer. Aidan was sure she could feel the effect she had on him. He wanted to lay her down now, not later today, not tonight, and not when this was over. Now. His head swam. But distractions cost, he knew. “Rule number two,” he whispered in her ear. “We have been here too long.”

“Got it.” Kian pulled back and picked up her backpack. “We need to get out of here.”

Together they headed back up the steps, careful to take every other one.

In the small room once more, Kian used the board to move the cupboard back into place, hiding the way to the Ark.

Aidan opened the oak door to the bulkhead. “You feel anything?”

“Aidan, I have felt creepy since we woke up.”

“Well, that’s not good.” Aidan removed his Sig Sauer and checked the clip. He threw a kiss back to Kian, then made his way up, slowly lifting the bulkhead door. It squeaked. Aidan cringed and waited. No sound, not even the chirp of a bird. Could mean someone was around or it could mean nothing. He peered out exposing as little of his head as possible, but saw nothing.

“Hand me the board,” he finally said. “See if we can prop this open.” He needed both hands free and holding his weapon if he was to sprint across the open space and into the forest.

With the help of Kian, Aidan was able to leverage the board into place, holding one of the doors open.

On his stomach, Aidan peered out. No breeze. No sound. Nothing. “Damn, where’s Jimbo when I need him?”

He motioned for Kian to come up beside him. “Kian, I don’t like this. So here’s the plan. On three we get to those trees. Stay behind me,” he said taking his gun into both hands and pushing himself up into a crouch. “One, two….” Aidan sprang up on “three,” ready to run from the cover of the bulkhead with Kian right behind him.

High up in the tree, he saw tiny movements in the leaves. No breeze. He knew they were in trouble. He grabbed Kian’s shoulder and pushed her back down, placing himself between her and danger.

The bullet took him in the left shoulder and he felt himself topple backward, landing on Kian’s legs.


Kian rolled Aidan off of her legs and yanked the board from the bulkhead door, allowing it to crash down just as another bullet tore through the metal. Trembling, she slammed the oak door shut and bolted it from the inside. Then she shoved the board under the cupboard, found the slot and yanked to the right. The cupboard opened, too slow for Kian’s liking. Another bullet crashed through the bulkhead, splintering the oak door. Kian retrieved the board she’d used to open the cupboard and tossed it down into the cellar. She thought she heard the creak of a bulkhead door.

Kian dragged Aidan to the steps. She stepped down, carefully using every other step until she was arms length from Aidan. Then, grabbing him under the shoulders, she pulled his body toward her. He was dead weight now and it took several tries before his butt hit the second step. The cupboard started moving. With one yank, she cleared his legs just as the cupboard slammed closed.

Alone in the dark, Kian maneuvered Aidan’s body down the remainder of the steps and into the cellar.

Rule number one. Always have an escape. Now what?


Raven approached the cabin with all her senses alert. At the bulkhead she stopped. She had them trapped now. The agent was wounded, Raven knew. When she found his Sig Sauer lying beside the bulkhead door, she was elated. More than a flesh wound or he would not have lost it. She yanked one bulkhead up as she crouched down beside it. Nothing. It gave her confidence. Her rifle was no good at such close range, but the Sig Sauer was. Using both hands to hold it in front of her, she fired three shots at the old lock on the oak door, kicked it open, and stormed the cellar. Empty but for one cupboard. And a smear of blood on the floor. A smear that ended at the cupboard.

Raven took her time searching in and around the cupboard, but she found nothing that would help her. No secret panels in the back and no way to move it.

Back outside, she searched the perimeter of the cabin for another way out. Kian would have to drag the fallen agent, she reasoned, but she found no trails of blood, no drag marks, not even a foot print that had not been there on her first look around. She headed back down the bulkhead and into the basement. No signs that her prey had left, she worked at the cupboard again. But she could not get it to budge, not even an inch. No matter, she finally decided. Just burn the place down.

Keeping the bulkhead doors within sight, Raven gathered enough dry tinder to get a good flame going. She was about to break into the cabin when she spotted a small garden shed. Inside was an old kerosene heater with a full can of fuel beside it.

Raven tossed the pile of tinder into the bulkhead and doused it with the kerosene, then circled the cabin and doused the dry log walls as well. She did even not need a match. Just a spark would do. She removed her flint from its pouch and pounded it against a stone. The kerosene and tinder in the bulkhead caught, flared, and then tore around the cabin. The dry wood walls were quickly consumed in flame and a dark greasy plume of smoke swirled up into the air. Even six feet from the cabin, Raven could feel the fiery heat. Roasted alive or trapped without air, Raven did not care. Either way, Kian and the agent would never escape.

Raven chuckled, turned, and disappeared into the underbrush. Now to find Cat, that was her next step. Find Cat and make her pay.




Photo in public domain

Willing Sacrifice: Chapter 28





By the time Kian, Aidan, and Jimbo reached the house, the sun had burnt off the morning fog. It was stifling hot for so early in the morning.

Sweaty now, hair tangled in the leaves they’d picked up hurrying through the dense forest and over the ridge, Aidan and Kian advanced toward the back of the house.

“Where’s Jimbo?” Kian asked.

“Right here.” Jimbo boldly stepped out from behind a tall pine. “Nobody’s around. You should be safe now.”

“Aren’t you coming too?”

“Nope. Goin’ to look for that bitch. Time somebody took her out.”

“But Owen’s getting a warrant for her arrest.”

“Yah, well my gut tells me they aren’t gunna find her. No-how, no-way. I’ve seen how she moves through the woods. He’ll lose half his officers before he even spots her. I’m doin’ this my way.” With that, Jimbo hiked into the forest and, within seconds, disappeared.

Aidan ran for the Jeep. Kian followed. He shoved the key in the door, unlocked it, and jumped in. Kian jumped in beside him. They spun around and headed down the dirt drive toward the highway.

When they rounded the first bend, Kian grabbed Aidan’s arm. “Stop, it’s Lucky,” she screamed. Aidan slammed on the brake, barely missing the cat as he hobbled across the road and down the steep slope where he disappeared in the dense underbrush.

Kian threw open her door and dashed after him.

Aidan jumped out and followed.


Kian stopped in her tracks. “Lucky,” she yelled.

The cat called out again, this time more urgently, “Mrr-r-ow.”

Before Aidan could stop her, Kian raced farther down the hill through thick brambles. At the bottom, she spotted Lucky hiding in a tangle of thorns. Oblivious to the prickly vines clawing at her, Kian grabbed him and tenderly cradled the cat in her arms while climbing back up toward Aidan.

“Quick, get in the Jeep,” Aidan said.

Kian climbed in and still gently holding the cat, she probed his limbs. Twice Lucky nipped out at her, but did not bite or struggle. He even let Kian probe his soft underside.

“Nothing broken,” she said. “Just bruising. He needs help. We got to go back to the house.”

“Kian, I don’t think….”

“Back up, Aidan, I’m not leaving Lucky in the woods to die.”

Aidan did not move.

“I’m not kidding, Aidan. You back up or I get out and walk.”

“Only because I don’t have a better plan,” Aidan mumbled as he backed up the driveway to the house, finally turning when they reached the porch. “We’re losing precious time.”

Kian yanked her keys out of the ignition and was about to climb down when Aidan stopped her.

“Kian, I don’t like this. Raven won’t be fooled for long, so take him in and come right back out. Rule number two. You got two minutes.”

Kian slung her backpack over her shoulder and raced inside with Lucky.

The house was in disarray. Had it only been twenty-four hours since she’d left it, Power’s body bloodying up her floor?

The carpet was gone, the furniture upturned, her father’s books and papers scattered.

Still holding Lucky, Kian grabbed a can of food, a spoon, and his dish. She rushed up the stairs. In the attic she set Lucky on the floor and dished out his breakfast. He ate hungrily as Kian made a soft bed for him in one corner. When she turned to leave, Lucky tried to follow. She could see he was limping badly. Then he plopped down and just looked at her begging for her help. Afraid he might try to go down the steps causing further injury, she retrieved his litter box from the bathroom and brought it up to the attic along with his water. She sat on the floor soothing him, debating whether to take him to the vet now or to wait. Lucky curled into a ball and closed his eyes.

Kian looked at her backpack sitting in the middle of the bed. She needed to hurry and wondered how many rules she’d broken in the last five minutes. With a sigh, she got up and hoisted the pack on her shoulder, promising to return soon. She reached down to stroke Lucky one more time.

When she turned, Aidan was standing at the door. “Kian, hurry. Raven’s probably spotted the ruse by now.”

They picked their way through the mess that had once been Kian’s home and headed out to the Jeep.



Emboldened by the demon, Raven headed downhill, keeping well within the tree line. Once on the other side of the boulder field, she moved slowly in order to focus on the ground, looking for any sign her sister and Red had passed. Most likely they would continue to stick to the game trails. So Raven did the same, but when she ran into a cobweb, she knew she was on the wrong path and hurried back to the boulder field. There she sat to ponder her next move.

She then heard rock grating on rock. It was just beyond the boulder to her left. Unlike Cat to make noise, Raven thought. Still wars were won more by the mistakes of the opponent than by the cunning of the victor. She crawled forward and, crouching, removed the garrote from her waist. She propped the rifle against the boulder and eased her way around. There she found a rocky ledge, a ravine, and a stream far below. But no Cat.

Raven sat down on her haunches and studied the ledge. One tiny clue was all she needed. When she spotted a tiny bit of upturned moss, she knew the rock below it had been moved. She slid it away. Nothing. Still the rock could have been a decoy to slow her down. Cat was good at decoys.

Raven searched the area for Cat’s trail, probably down toward the stream, she reasoned. It was then she spotted the discarded basket, thrown carelessly down the embankment. Even from the ledge she could see it was empty. So they had hidden the Ark after all.

Raven searched the rocky ledge, throwing stones over the side. When the area was cleared, she turned her attention back to the boulder field where, minutes later, she found both ebony boxes. Empty.

Angry now, Raven renewed her vow to kill them both. But first she had to find them. She spotted a tall pine and climbed to the top where she surveyed the land below her, looking for any movement that might give them away. Nothing stirred. Still she waited. All she needed to find was a direction.

Raven was about to climb down when, off to her right, she spotted a dust cloud. She watched as it approached. She looked more closely and spotted the road to Jacob’s cabin. A Jeep? Was that Kian’s Jeep?

Now Raven came to a new plan. “I’ll get the girl and then will have leverage over my sister. She was always too soft-hearted for her own good.”

Raven chuckled, shinnied down the tree, grabbed her rifle, and sprinted off toward Jacob’s cabin.




Willing Sacrifice: Chapter 27




August 7th


Jimbo spent the night tucked into a tree watching the entrance to the cave.

When the rising sun cast a red glow over the valley, Jimbo decided it was time to have a look around. At the horse pasture, he watched Owen get into a squad car and drive out with the rest of the local police. Poor bastard. He got less shut-eye than I did. Get some sleep, buddy, you can’t run on empty.

From there, he checked the house. The dining table had been upturned and there was still blood on the hardwood floor where it had seeped through the rug.

Next, he checked the stone circle. There was no sign of activity, so he checked the stone chamber nearby. Pine needles and furs littered the floor. Wax from burning candles dripped down the walls. He checked the ground where Raven had buried the wings three days before and was surprised to find she had not yet discovered they were gone.

Satisfied, Jimbo hiked over the ridge and then down again, heading toward the cave.


Kian awoke to the warm aroma of coffee percolating over the camp stove. Normally she would have taken comfort in the morning routine, but this morning she could not. Her body, still shaking inside, ached. She had slept, but fitfully. Dreams, images intruded on her sleep; Raven breaking in, Power grabbing her, and Lucky lost somewhere as she searched endlessly through brambles and clawing vines to find him.

She swung her feet off the cot, sat up, and stretched out her sore muscles. Enough of this, she told herself. But all she could see in front of her was another day of the same.

Aidan, Cat, and Red sat at the rickety table enjoying their morning coffee. “Oh my, how I’ve missed this,” Red said waving Kian over. She did not know if he referred to the coffee or to being together again. As she leaned over to kiss him on his cheek, she suspected he meant both.

Kian sipped her coffee, and the jitters inside her calmed a bit. Aidan told them about Raven’s attempt to break in, and that Jimbo had gone out to keep watch. “I have no idea what scared her off,” he concluded. “But she left in a hurry. Even left the entrance ajar.”

Recalling her dream, Kian jumped up. “Lucky, oh my god, where is Lucky?” She called to him, but he did not come. She searched the cave, looking behind dusty boxes, under the cots, even by the steam flowing out the back. Finally, she popped open a can of food. Even that did not bring him out.

“He knows this land better than we do, I suspect,” Cat finally told her daughter. “Leave him, he’ll find his way home again, I am sure of it.”

This gave Kian some hope, but did little to dampen a growing fear within her. Somewhere outside Lucky was lost and maybe hurt, but she could not go to search for him because she had an Ark to protect. An Ark that Raven would kill to possess. She slumped forward, holding her head in her hands. “We can’t keep doing this. We need a plan.”


Raven had not slept, not in the traditional sense of the word. As the first hints of dawn appeared on the horizon, Raven stretched her aching body, finding it somewhat better after a few hours nap. As for her mind, it did not know how to rest.

“Ashta-molon, I command you! Attend me!” The demon flew down to her. “Come!”

Raven’s stomach growled as she crept through the undergrowth. Ashta-molon soared above, a dark silhouette against the dawn sky. Raven made her way to the stone chambers. She was here to collect the Wings.

Raven passed the stone circle. At the stone chamber, she ducked inside. It was undisturbed since her night with Power. It had been so satisfying lying there with him, withholding her little secret from him–knowing the wings were buried under her.

Taking her dagger from her belt, she moved the pine needles aside and probed the loose earth. At about three inches, she expected to find the ebony box. Her dagger sank to four inches, then to its hilt. No box. She pulled the dagger up only to find it sticky and dripping with caked dirt. She clutched the dagger with both hands, shoved it into the ground, then pried it up and raised her dagger into the air. The entrails of a small animal hung down from the blade. Raven let out a scream that echoed through the valley before pounding her fists on the hard dirt floor. “I’ll get you, you bitch,” she screamed. “I’ll make you pay!” Then she sprinted back toward the caves.


“Are we agreed, then?” Aidan asked.

“Agreed,” Cat said. “Red and I will set up a decoy drawing Raven off.”

“Then Aidan, Jimbo, and I wait five minutes before we go to the house and get the Jeep. We take the Ark to Jacob’s cellar. I got it.”

“The important thing is to hurry before Raven discovers what’s happening,” Cat reminded them all. “Raven is no dummy. She’ll catch on fast enough.”

Kian took the Ark and wrapped it in old rags before placing it into her backpack. Then she wrapped the wings and placed them on top of the Ark.

Cat picked up the two ebony boxes that had held the Ark and wings and placed them in a basket. She then strapped it to her back.

“Time to go,” Cat said. Kian watched as her parents headed out the tunnel and into the forest. She, Aidan, and Jimbo followed five minutes later. It would be a twenty-minute hike back to the house.


Following behind, Raven watched as Red and Cat made their way through the forest. She was elated. Easy prey. All she needed was a clear shot at both of them. Shoot Cat first and the cripple would be helpless.

As she waited for her chance, Raven saw Red surveying the forest, looking to the trees and to the undergrowth for unusual movement. Despite his handicap, it was Red who led the way as the two stayed low, each making minimal targets of themselves. Had she underestimated Red?

Raven followed the two, growing more frustrated at not being able to take a clear shot as they made their way deeper into the forest. A forest that Red quite obviously knew and she did not. Still, all she needed was a clean shot at both their heads. A clean shot that was not happening. She had underestimated Red. He was not so stupid as to give her that shot. Never were both of them in view at the same time. One was always hidden from her, making an escape all too easy. No, it was too risky to give herself away like that. She wasn’t the only expert tracker in the family, and obviously Red had the skill as well. She did not want to become the hunted.

Cat and Red made their way to the wet bottomlands. They skirted along well-used deer trails through marshland grasses. Red hid his steps well, Raven noted, using animal crushed grasses to hide his human prints. Even over muddy ground, he kept his steps light enough to blend in. Cat followed, also adept at keeping her tracks hidden.

Raven had the harder job, keeping an eye on hazards and on the pair she tailed. Twice she almost tripped on exposed roots. Flies landed on her skin and several bit at her, but she ignored them. When a rabbit crossed her path, she had to halt her progress and allow it to pass quietly, naturally. Otherwise it would bolt, calling attention back to her position.

She followed the pair up a hill and watched as they cautiously skirted past two deer that eyed them, but kept munching at the undergrowth.

Following at a safe distance, Raven found herself near a muddy swamp. Red picked his way over rocks, until he reached a fallen tree. Raven reached for her rifle and aimed it in his direction. If she could catch the two of them on the log, she’d have her chance. She watched Red hop up and step along, nimble despite his crushed ankle. But Cat did not cross until Red reached the far side and took cover. Again, she’d lost her chance.

The two rounded a bend in the trail and were out of sight before Raven jumped up on the fallen log. The dark murky swamp water smelled foul like rancid breath. But Raven did not care. She needed to hurry or she’d lose them in the forest ahead.

On the far side of the swamp, Raven climbed a hill and a gust of warm wind caught her full in the face. She scanned the terrain ahead and was surprised to see Cat and Red crossing a boulder field. Cat kept to the shadows and Red followed, not twenty feet behind. They were both exposed.

Patience was all she needed. She set the cross-hairs on Cat’s skull, moving the scope along as Cat hurried over the rocks. One clean shot was all she needed, then she would move the scope back twenty feet and take the second shot at Red. The fool had nowhere to hide. Taking the wind into account and sensing the tension with her finger, Raven exerted pressure on the trigger, slowly, slowly, she told herself. Hold your breath and….

Raven cursed as the wind picked up, a mighty gust this time, one that momentarily blew her cover and allowed the sun’s rays to catch the barrel of the rifle. She took the shot anyway, hoping Cat had not spotted her. The bullet hit rock and she knew she’d missed her mark.

When she looked out, her prey was gone. Alerted now, they would surely circle back to find her. “Ashta-Molon,” she screamed unto the wind, “attend me.”


Photo Attribution:

fir0002 | [GFDL 1.2 (, via Wikimedia Commons

Willing Sacrifice: Chapter 26





Kian was shaking as she, Aidan, and Jimbo eased their way back down the hill and away from the scene in front of them. Minutes later Cat joined them. From there they crept farther into the woods. Only Kian’s steps made a sound as they rushed through the dry leaves. Then she stepped on a twig. Its crack seemed to reverberate through the forest, echoing off the trees. Her mother turned to look at her and then at her hiking boots. “We need to get you some moccasins,” she commented before motioning them on.

Several minutes later, Aidan stopped, cautioning the others to be quiet. He stood stone still a moment before whispering, “Behind the boulders, quick.” They all ducked out of sight.

The figure coming at them crashed through the bushes, clearly more intent on speed than on stealth. Jimbo was the first to recognize Owen and raced out to help him.

His hands still bound behind him, Owen’s wrists were bloody from struggling with his restraints. His orange tee shirt was torn from running through brambles and his face scratched and bruised.

“Shit, man, you look like you been to hell and back,” Jimbo said as Cat and Kian stepped out to join him.

“Just about. Cut this damn thing off me, will ya?”

Jimbo pulled a knife from his belt and sawed through the plastic restraint.

“Mrs. Buchanan?” Owen rubbed his wrists and stepped forward to look at her.

“My, my, haven’t you grown. Call me Cat.”

“Raven, is she…?”

“Yes, dear, she’s my sister. I thought her dead. Instead, she left to betray us, I think.”

Aidan stepped out, the last of the group to greet Owen. His tablet illuminated his face. “Looks like they are headed for the main road through town.”

Owen grunted. “They left your boss’s body and his Rubicon behind. Along with those dead guys. Man, the coroner is going to have a field day with this one.” He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “Look, you guys gotta get out of here. I need to be the one to call this in, not you. It’s gunna be a long night and I don’t care who I have to wake up. I’m getting a warrant for that woman’s arrest.”

“Thanks,” Aidan said as he turned to leave.

“Kian, you call me in the morning, hear?” Owen called after her.

“Yes, dear,” Kian replied as they ducked farther into the woods.

Five minutes later they stopped to watch the dots on Aidan’s tablet. All of the cars had turned onto the main highway, some turning north and some south, back toward the city.

“Guess they didn’t care for Raven’s little temper tantrum,” Jimbo observed shaking his head. “Speaking of which witch, did you see where she went?”

“Raven ducked down into the grass,” Aidan said. “That was the last I saw of her. She could be watching us now.”

“No, she’s gone. For now,” Cat said. “We need to go, too.”

Kian followed her mother as Cat led the way through the thick undergrowth. Kian was weary. Her legs ached and all she could think about was a safe place to lie down and sleep as they skirted the more exposed areas of the forest. Finally she saw the Jeep trail.

“I don’t like it,” Cat said and pointed back the way they had come. “A two year old could follow the tracks we are leaving.”

Kian crouched down and inspected the tread of her hiking boots. Obvious, too obvious.

“It’s not just the tracks, it’s the broken branches, the flattened leaves. Any disturbance at all can be tracked. I think we need to split up. Raven can only follow one trail at a time.”

“I got a better idea.” Jimbo picked up a sturdy branch and swung solidly at a thick old oak. The solid thw-ack reverberated though forest. They waited for a few minutes and then Jimbo gave two more sturdy whacks with his branch. “Goddammit, where are those yahoos when you need them?” Finally, he let out a loud screech, waited thirty seconds, then let out another, this time modulating his voice higher in pitch.

Cat pointed in the direction they had come, grinned at Jimbo, and nodded her approval before she led the party across a rocky embankment to a spot of safety several hundred feet further along the Jeep trail and behind large boulders. They watched as eight of the Bigfoot buffoons came into view. Jimbo let out another screech, elongating and lowering the tone. The hunters stopped.

“Where did that come from?”

“Around here somewhere.”

The eight of them began to search around, looking for any sign of the elusive creature.

Jimbo, keeping behind cover, worked his way five hundred yards back up the trail to where their tracks were the most obvious. He gave a nearby tree several solid thw-acks before ducking under cover. Five of the eight raced back down the road to survey the area.

“This way,” one of the five shouted and headed directly toward Jimbo. The other four just stood where they were, rooted to the Jeep trail.

The leader called back to his buddies, “You comin’ or not?”

“It may be out there.”

“That’s the idea you galoots, now come on.” Cautiously the four followed their leader into the woods.

Kian watched as Jimbo threw a heavy rock at the group, barely missing one of them. The distraction was enough for Jimbo to make his escape.

He appeared behind Kian minutes later. “I think those yahoos trampled our trail well enough, let’s get out of here.”

As they headed further back and away from the Jeep trail, Kian felt herself careen forward. She went sprawling. Feeling foolish, she allowed Aidan to help her up. But the hunters heard the noise and were now racing in her direction. Aidan pulled her behind a bush as the others dove for cover behind them.

“Do something,” Aidan whispered to Jimbo.

Jimbo grabbed a nearby rock and was about to hurl it when they all heard a guttural screech from the far side of the Jeep trail, followed by a barrage of rocks thrown at the yahoos. Jimbo’s eyes went wide. “Fuck, you mean to tell me Bigfoot is real?”

“We call them the Ancient Ones,” Cat replied.

Kian watched the hunters run for cover before following her mother down to a running brook and back to the caves.



Raven was exhausted, but she knew she had work to do. The loss of the Power’s minions did not bother her. But to lose the Ark, that would be intolerable. She needed to regroup, to rethink, to find a way to get “her” Ark back. “Yes” she told herself, “That Ark is mine, and I shall get it back once and for all.”

Her sniper rifle slung on her back, Raven was just climbing a steep incline following Owen’s tracks. Using all her skills, she stayed well within the shadows and cover of underbrush until she came to the spot where Owen met up with the others. Then his tracks disappeared again, as they headed back to the pasture.

But the others, at least three others, had moved on deeper into the forest. “Interesting,” she mumbled to herself, and followed the tracks to the Jeep trail, where they had been trampled by at least eight others. Try as she did, she could not distinguish her prey’s prints from those of the yahoos.

Twice she followed the tracks off the trail and into the woods. Once she found only the chaos of disturbed leaves and broken branches. The second time she came upon a babbling brook. They could easily have walked in the water, obscuring any trace of footprints until they left the brook. Raven knew it would take hours to find their trail again.

To find the Ark now, she would have to use her second sight and scry. Raven knew many ways to do that. She could use a candle, but she did not have one. Nor did she have a silver bowl. A clear clean pool of water would do, but she would need a source of light and the moon was dark. No, the only way, and it was the most powerful, was to scry with fire.

Raven found an open patch of ground near the brook. She cleared it of leaves and other combustible debris. Then she set about gathering five bundles of five sticks each and tinder. She took 12 rocks and placed them in a circle, then removed tobacco and flint from her medicine pouch. With a sharply pointed stick, she dug a shallow hole. She took a pinch of tobacco from her medicine pouch. She breathed an intent for success into the tobacco and placed it in the hole. On top of that she piled a small heap of tinder and took her first bundle of sticks in hand. She held it to the dark sky and called upon the Spirit of the Air to come and empower the fire. She took the five sticks from this first bundle and formed a teepee over the small pile of tinder. With the second bundle she called upon the Spirit of Fire itself, and then, with the third she called upon the Spirit of Water to open her vision. With the forth bundle, she called up the Spirit of Earth to make this working solid and true. Finally, with the fifth bundle she called upon the powers of the Dark Places to assist her in this doing.

Raven piled more tinder on the sticks and took her flint in hand. This she knocked against her steel dagger, causing a spark. On the fourth attempt, the spark caught and, with careful use of her breath, Raven made the tinder flame. It only took minutes for the fire to catch hold. Raven piled more tinder on the fire, then sticks, and finally small branches.

It was the embers, Raven knew, that gave the message. So she continued to feed the fire until she had a deep glowing circle within her stone pit. She sat back and watched as the embers danced. Yes, the fire was ready.

One knee placed on the ground and her other foot planted squarely on the earth, Raven took the stance of the warrior and peered unto the embers.

Raven demanded, “Where is the Ark?” as she stirred the pit three times. She could feel the heat sting her face and used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat away. She waited. An ember flared and brightened. Peering deeper into the glowing coals, Raven saw sleeping figures. She counted five of them. Cat, Kian, and that good for nothing Red. But who was the fourth? That FBI agent hanging around Kian? The embers flared. Yes, and who was the fifth? The embers did not give her an answer this time. No matter.

Raven allowed her gaze to soften even more. She could not see exactly where these people were, but she could tell they were all together in one room. When nothing more came to her, Raven picked up her stick and stirred the embers again, this time more forcefully. “Tell me where they are.”

Flames flickered before the fire settled into embers once more and now she saw what resembled dark red walls–cave walls. It made sense.

Once more she stirred the embers and this time she thought she saw a landscape with valleys, mountains, a stream and a road. “Show me the cave,” she said. An ember flared, then grew cool.

Closing her eyes, Raven sensed the brook behind her. It meandered up the valley to mountains just like those depicted in the embers.

“I got you now, sister dearest,” she mumbled to herself. She stood, removed her moccasins, scooped water onto the dying embers, and then waded up the brook. The water was cold between her toes, but felt good after the heat of the fire.

Following her sister’s trail until she recognized the landscape from her scrying-fire, she cut inland and picked up their trail once more. Kian’s boot prints led her to the tunnel entrance, where she grew cautious.

Here, she tucked her essence into herself and blended into the feeling of the rock. She crept forward in the darkness. As she moved down the tunnel, she searched, allowing her fingers to do the seeing for her. The walls were rough against finger tips that had grown soft over years of easy living.

Raven continued her search for a boulder with handholds pecked into it. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she found it. Settling her fingers into place, she leaned her weight back. She felt the rough rock dig into her fingers tips, but kept pressure on the boulder. She needed to do this slowly. No noise. Finally, having moved the rock just a few inches, she let the boulder rest and peered inside the opening. She took the sniper rifle from her shoulder.

Raven saw all five people sleeping there, just as they had been in her vision. She pointed the rifle at the nearest body. How many could she kill before anyone woke up? Three? Maybe four?

If I start with the agent, and then take Cat, I should be able to kill Red as well, before Kian and the fifth guy wake up. Then those two should be easy final prey.

It was worth a shot, she decided, taking momentary pleasure in her own pun.

Raven allowed her eyes to adjust to the faint lamplight of the cave before aiming at Aidan’s head. Just as she was sure of her sighting, something dark leapt at her. It hissed as it landed on her shoulder. Her shot aborted, Raven grabbed at the cat and, in one swift motion, she hurled it down the tunnel. She heard the cat hit rock with a satisfying th-wump.

Having lost her golden opportunity, she quickly grabbed her rifle and ran back out of the tunnels and into the forest.


Inside the cave, Aidan turned over. He pushed himself up on one elbow and looked around. It was quiet, but he let his senses roam. The cave door was ajar. Outside, he thought he felt Raven. But then that feeling was gone.

He rolled over and shook Jimbo.

“Fuck man, what now?” Jimbo rubbed his eyes and looked around.

“I’m sure Raven was here. I’m going out.”

“Like hell you are.” Jimbo threw his feet off the cot and stood. “Outside perimeter is my job.”



Note: While there are magical ways to build a scrying fire, the one Raven uses was invented for the story. Her technique for Scrying is accurate, however.


Photo Attribution:

By Emilian Robert Vicol from Com. Balanesti, Romania (Fire-Red-Hot-Coals_306412-480×360) [CC BY 2.0 (, via Wikimedia Commons