The Sorceress (39 page)

“What I meant was…I'd like to borrow your ring. After all, your life is not in peril on the Goddess Realm. As I said, I can't return home. I'm staying here and it would mean a lot if I had something of yours to cherish…temporarily…until I retrieve my own ring.”

“Do you really think I'm a fool?”

Eris's eyes lowered in feigned sorrow. “Why do you speak to me so harshly? Where is the compassion you once possessed?”

“I haven't changed. I am the embodiment of compassion. I know of your plan to harm Zeta.”

“Oh, who cares about a winged servant? You're putting her on a pedestal, as if she's a goddess.”

“She is a goddess to me. And the time will come when Zeta and I are viewed as equals by the entire Goddess Realm.”

This time Eris didn't stifle her ridiculing laughter.

Tara stepped forward, arms behind her. Zeta lifted and spread her majestic wings.

“Oh my, should I be fearful?” Eris asked snidely. “Did you travel all the way to this Earthly Realm to challenge me, little sister?”

“I came to defend Zeta's honor, to ensure her safety and well-being.” Tara brought her arms forward, revealing the two sparkling swords that she held in each hand.

Recognizing Kali's powerful swords, Eris took a step back.

“I'm also here on the goddess Kali's behalf to protect her goddaughter, the young Stovall child.”

“Exactly how do you plan to do that?” Furious, Eris charged forward, eyes shooting flames aimed at Zeta's feathers. Tara's arms, moving swiftly, used Kali's mighty swords to block the bolts of fire.

“You are incorrigible and wicked.” Grinding the two swords together, Tara advanced.

“NO!” Eris shouted when she saw the sparks from the swords erupt into flames and billowing white smoke.

“I wanted to cleanse you with purifying fire, I wanted you to rest in peace, but I'm ordered by the goddess council to send your wretched soul back to the Dark Realm, your eternal home.”

“Tara, have mercy. I'm your sister.” Eris used a voice that was tiny and meek, appealing to Tara's natural kindness.

But imbibed with the power of goddess Kali, Tara was a warrior with a mission to complete. “You will not harm another innocent being.”

Fighting back, Eris sent beams of hot blue light Tara's way.

Protecting her lover, Zeta flapped her wings, extinguishing Eris's fire and fanning the flame that Tara created. Zeta flapped faster, sending the ball of white fire rolling and bouncing speedily in Eris's direction.

She rubbed the swords again and blue fire erupted and blazed a swift trail, merging with the purifying fire—popping, bouncing, and leaping onto the hem of Eris's blood-encrusted gown. Highly flammable, the masquerade costume crackled as it became consumed by fire. Eris stretched her mouth open to curse her sister, but managed only a lingering hiss.

Zeta and Tara stood in witness as Eris burned. In the form of a dark streak of smoke, Eris's furious spirit whooshed and whirled about. The smoky spirit began to lose its vigor, floating to the floor, and then began to dissipate.

Grudgingly, the goddess of destruction rejoined Boozer and the other wicked beings on the Dark Realm. All that was left of Eris's physical body was a mound of ash.

Zeta lifted Tara in her arms and floated down the stairs. With a fiery hot sword, Tara sliced through the lock on the basement door.

Jen had to be dreaming. Two magnificent women—one with a pair of blue wings rescued her from the belly of the dreadful basement. Their glorious presence created sparkling light in the dark, dreary basement. She gazed down into the pit where poor Carmen lay sprawled. Jen flinched, and looked away.

“She's at peace now,” Tara said softly, referring to Carmen.

“Who are you?” Jen asked in whisper.

“My name is Tara. I'm the goddess of compassion.”

“I'm Zeta,” the winged woman offered. “I'm Tara's faithful attendant.”

“I've changed her title. Zeta's my lover,” Tara added boldly.

Jen didn't know what to say. She was overwhelmed by the presence of these two magnificent beings sent from above to save her. There weren't words to express her gratitude.

“Your wounds need to be treated.” Tara shook her head. “Your husband is upstairs in the main room. He's going to need emergency medical attention as soon as possible or he will perish. You must hurry. Know that he loves you and would gladly give his life for you.”

Jen squinted in bewilderment. “I'm not married.”

Tara smiled. “You will be,” she promised. “Kali, the goddess of fertility, wants you to know that she's blessed you and your husband with a fine and healthy son. Now hurry! Go upstairs. This dwelling will soon erupt into flames.”

Before Jen could respond, the two women were surrounded in magnificent, glittering light and then they vanished, leaving behind a soft shimmer to help Jen find her way through the darkness.

Upstairs and out of the darkness, Jen was accosted by smothering smoke. Choking, gasping, coughing, she made her way into the living room and there he was…

A
ccording to authorities, it was all connected. The fire at the Provost home and the mysterious murder spree by an unknown assailant that took the lives of Carmen Diego, Doris Abramson, and young Ethan Provost. The public was not made aware that the DNA evidence in the rape kits of Carmen Diego and Doris Abramson was not human. And it was not animal. It was unknown. The DNA evidence taken from the puncture wounds of five-year-old Ethan Provost was also unidentifiable.

Romel Chavis was considered a hero. He didn't get the weird glances or gasps of disbelief when, from his hospital bed and in a weakened, barely audible voice, he recounted the Sasquatch story.

That bizarre DNA discovery and Rome's own injuries backed up his claim that the killer wasn't human. Still, top brass in the department asked him to keep the information to himself.

According to the record, the assailant was still on the loose. There was a huge reward for any information that would lead to his arrest.

There was an outpouring of public sympathy for Catherine Provost, the brave mother, who refused to sit home and mourn, but instead campaigned mightily, vowing to wage a war against sexual predators and child abusers if Americans cast their votes for her. Her party was expected to win by a landslide.

Rome had lain on the Provosts' lawn, shivering and bleeding. Jen had used practically all her strength dragging him out of the burning house. She wrapped her arms around him, keeping him warm with her body heat while they waited for the fire department.

During the first few hours of being in and out of consciousness, Rome repeatedly asked Jen to marry him, insisting that her engagement ring was in his coat pocket. Naturally, Jen thought he was talking out of his head. Even if his words were true, the ring, along with his coat, was gone—lost in the fire.

A week later, an infection set in. Jen didn't know if Rome was going to make it. The doctors were trying everything. He had a rare blood type and needed a transfusion with the same rare blood type.

Jen had an idea. It was a gamble, but she was willing to take that risk.

Twyla Tanning was on tour, staying at the Four Seasons Hotel.

Jen walked up to the front desk and requested Twyla be called. With all that had transpired in the past week, Jen had grown up a great deal and was no longer timid and afraid to stand up for herself.

“She's not staying here, ma'am,” the desk clerk said, trying to look earnest.

“Okay, why don't you do this—”

“Ma'am,” he interrupted. “Ms. Tanning is not here. I'm asking you nicely to please leave or I'll have to call security.”

Jen inhaled. “As I was saying,” she said, enunciating each word. “Call the room listed under the name that Twyla Tanning is using and inform her that Jennifer Darnell is in the lobby
with a message from Romel. Tell her I think she should hear it.” Jen stood firm, staring the man down.

The bandages on Jen's arms were concealed by the sleeves of her jacket. Both her arms were swollen and sore, but she refused to take her prescribed medication. She wanted to be alert for the showdown she was about to have. And there was another reason Jen was cautious about taking drugs—prescribed or otherwise. There was a chance that she was pregnant; Jen didn't want to risk taking anything that might harm her unborn baby.

She tapped her finger on the desk while she waited and found herself growing anxious and increasingly impatient.

The flustered young man picked up the phone. Repeating Jen's words, he spoke discreetly and then hung up. “Someone will be down in five minutes,” he said, looking relieved that he didn't have to call security to have Jen removed from the lobby.

The elevator doors parted. Jen lifted her eyes, expecting to see beefy bodyguards, but instead, Twyla Tanning herself stepped out of the elevator.

Jen stood and watched as Twyla approached. As the international star grew closer, Jen could see that despite all the surgical procedures, Twyla still looked so much like Rome that it was startling.

“Jennifer?”

“Yes. I'm a friend of Romel's.”

Twyla searched Jen's face, waiting for her say more.

“I think we should sit down,” Jen said.

Twyla didn't budge. “Has something happened to Romel?” There was fear in Twyla's eyes.

Fighting back tears, Jen nodded. She really needed to sit down. Twyla ushered Jen to the nearest set of chairs.

Composing herself, Jen inhaled. “Rome's a police officer—”

“I know. He's been on the Philadelphia police force for two years,” Twyla responded softly.

An image of Rome lying in the hospital bed came into Jen's mind. She couldn't keep her lips from quivering. “Something happened—”

Twyla shook her head, her jaw tensed. “Please don't tell me he's dead!”

“He's still alive…but he's been badly injured.” Jen swallowed hard.

Twyla pressed a palm against her heart. “Oh, thank God.” Her lashes fluttered closed. “He's going to be all right,” she murmured, as though speaking to herself. “It's nothing life-threatening, is it?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Was he shot?” The words came out in a frantic whisper.

“No. He was off-duty and he tried to help…uh…it's been all over the news,” Jen said, frustrated. The unbelievable atrocity Jen and Rome had endured was hard to put into words. She didn't know where to begin. .

“I don't listen to the news when I'm on tour,” Twyla explained.

“He was involved in a tragedy…trying to save lives,” Jen stammered. “He lost a lot of blood. And right now…he's fighting for his life.”

Twyla covered her mouth. An anguished sound was muffled by her palm.

“He has a rare blood type,” Jen went on and noticed a flicker in Twyla's eyes.
God, please let her be a match.
“He needs a transfusion but it has to be his exact rare blood type. His father can't help him. So far, the hospital can't find a donor that matches. Even his birth mother on record…”

“She's not a match either. I have the same blood type as my son.” Twyla nodded, punctuating the fact that she'd finally claimed Rome as her son.

“I can help him.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I'm so ashamed of myself. Romel shouldn't have had to send me such a desperate message. I should have been there for him. It's this lie that I've been living—it's like a cancer. It's eating me alive. Of course, I'll give my son my blood.”

“Rome didn't send me here with that message,” Jen told her. “He's not aware that I'm here with you. I came on my own, hoping you would help.”

“The front desk called and said you had a message from Romel.”

“I do.”

Sniffling, Twyla waited.

“His message is that despite everything…even that day when he met you and treated him like one of your fans—”

Twyla gasped. “I'm so sorry. I was worried about my career. Look what being ambitious did to me…”

Jen squinted, not knowing how to respond. The woman seated next to her was gorgeous, successful, sexy, and rich.

“My life is a mess—a living hell,” Twyla revealed.

A living hell?
From the outside, Twyla's life looked good. Most recently, the entertainment icon had launched her own fragrance line…Insatiable Woman and Insatiable for Men. Twyla was getting paid, and after more than two decades, she was still at the top of her profession.

Jen wondered if the living hell Twyla mentioned was a reference to her five bad marriages or the constant scandals that plagued her family members. “Rome loves you,” Jen repeated. “He's hoping that one day, when your career is over, you'll be a grandmother to his son.”

“Romel has a child?”

“Not yet.”

“You're more than a friend, aren't you?” she said knowingly.