Fallen Gods: Lotus Blooming Read online

  LOTUS BLOOMING

  An Ellora’s Cave Publication, April 2005

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

  1337 Commerce Drive, #13

  Stow, OH 44224

  ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-4199-0198-2

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

  LOTUS BLOOMING Copyright © 2005 LORIE O’CLARE

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower.

  Cover art by Syneca

  Warning:

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. Lotus Blooming has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (Sensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

  Sensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.

  X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  Fallen Gods:

  Lotus Blooming

  Lorie O’Clare

  Acknowledgements

  A lot of research and preparation went into this story. I would like to give special thanks to Rev. Kacey Carlson, who showed incredible patience during recorded interviews, and repeated visits while she instructed me in the ways of witchcraft. Kacey is one of the owners of the 9th Path, which is an awesome store, where I was allowed to browse and learn about so many tools used with this faith. (www.ninthpath.com)

  I’d also like to acknowledge Maria Anthony, a wonderful woman I’ve known for many years, who also willingly shared her knowledge in the Wiccan faith. Her patience in answering my questions is more appreciated than she could possibly know.

  The folks at Waxman candles were very helpful in sharing knowledge about Priapus, and actually managed to dig up an old statue of him. (Too bad it wasn’t for sale.) They also were able to help in the knowledge of candles, and how they are used with casting different spells. (www.waxmancandles.com)

  To all of these wonderful people, I owe my heartfelt thanks!

  I’ve also dedicated long hours of reading research books on casting spells, and several offered “books of shadows” from people I’ve met in the Wiccan faith while doing this research. Many, many hours have gone into my effort in providing you with this wonderful story, and attempting to keep it as realistic as possible.

  The contents of this book are purely fictional. No spell described or recited in this book is real, but has been altered at the recommendation of those who take the craft seriously. Playing with magic is not a game, but a faith. And this author in no way suggests trying anything mentioned in this book “just to see if it will work”.

  Chapter One

  Thena Cooke barely noticed the print on the piece of paper in her hand. The words blurred together. Her fingers pressed against the paper, their moistness making the sheet damp.

  “I don’t understand,” she muttered, not talking to anyone in particular.

  “I think it’s pretty clear.” Lynn Holliday rested her wide rear end against the edge of her desk, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “Refusing to work the loader is insubordination and grounds for termination. We can’t show favoritism just because of your seniority, Thena.”

  “I didn’t refuse—”

  “You were asked to work the loader and you didn’t do it. That is refusal. You don’t get to choose your machinery. Not on my shift.” Lynn stuck her index finger out, gesturing at the paper in Thena’s hand. “Sign that and then clear out your locker. I’ve got a floor to work.”

  Thena looked at the paper. “Grounds for termination” stood out in bold print, taunting her. The logo for Benn Plastic was on the top of the page. The word “insubordination” made her throat close. She couldn’t swallow. Her heart raced in her chest. It was as if slowly the room began spinning around her. She’d worked here for eleven years, ever since she’d moved to Kansas City.

  “You’re firing me,” she said, feeling stupid the moment she uttered the words.

  Lynn sighed, turning and reaching for a pen then handing it to Thena. “Your fault. Not mine.”

  “Paula had a headache. The loader is in a quiet corner.” Her arguments wouldn’t be heard. She could tell that already.

  The form had been filled out, time-stamped two hours ago, right after her shift had started.

  After seeing where they were assigned to work, and sensing Paula didn’t feel good, Thena had offered to switch machines with her.

  “Take some aspirin now. We can do a headache spell over break,” she’d told Paula.

  Thena’s grandmother had always said to keep the balance even, and aspirin often worked as well as the headache spell did.

  “You’re a gem, Thena.” Paula had willingly taken over the loader, where she could sit quietly and sort plastic cups into boxes.

  Sure, technically switching jobs required preauthorization, but there was a lot of work to get done, and Thena had figured she would let Lynn know they’d switched machinery when the woman made her rounds. She hadn’t expected to be pulled from her work and summoned into the supervisor’s office.

  Thena looked up, finally taking her eyes off the dreaded piece of paper. She stared at Lynn, into those eyes that she’d sworn for years were empty, carrying no soul. Now she knew the woman had no heart either. They’d worked alongside each other for so long, lived in the same town, and the woman staring back at her showed nothing but hatred.

  Hatred for something she didn’t understand.

  If only she’d seen Lynn earlier that night. Maybe she would have read her emotions. She was getting better at that. Maybe somehow she could have prevented this from happening.

  And maybe she wasn’t as good as she thought she was.

  Thena sighed.

  Taking the pen, her hand shook as she scribbled her signature on the paper and then tossed it in the air. Wishing it would fly away, it drifted slowly in front of Lynn while she grabbed for it twice before saving it from floating to the floor.

  Lynn wanted to say something. Her mouth twitched, the words right there. Fear and aggravation hardened her expression. She suspected Thena made the paper hard to grab by tossing it, and that embarrassed and infuriated her. She gripped the paper Thena had just signed, turning toward her desk.

  “Clean out your locker.” Lynn didn’t bother to turn around. “And anything you take that isn’t yours will be deducted from your final paycheck.”

  “I’m not a thief,” Thena said through gritted teeth. She’d had about enough. “You wanted me gone, so you found an excuse. And it’s a pretty lame one. Anyone else and you would have sung his or her praises for being kind enough to swap machines.”

  Lynn did turn around now. The false smile on her face did nothing but show he
r wicked satisfaction over what she’d just done.

  “You were assigned your job tonight and didn’t do it. I don’t need to quote policy to you.” She puffed out her chest, which gave her a double chin.

  But it was the self-righteous look on her face that Thena wanted to slap right off of her. The thought of giving her a nasty pimple on the end of her nose crossed her mind, too.

  “You may have others around here intimidated, but not me. I’m not scared of you. Now get your things and get out.” Lynn turned around again, moving around her desk although she wouldn’t stay there.

  No. Lynn would be right out on the floor the second Thena left, bragging how she’d managed to get rid of the witch. And that was exactly why she was getting fired. Too many rumors floated around, and it had Lynn scared. Thena had seen all the signs, and hadn’t paid attention to them. The thought of rattling off some kind of hocus-pocus nonsense, just to watch the woman shake in her shoes, entered Thena’s mind.

  Thena wouldn’t waste her time on the woman though. It would be like playing with a brick wall. Lynn had never liked her. And Thena knew she’d started more than one of the rumors that circulated around the factory.

  She’s scared of you. Scared of something she doesn’t understand.

  Her factory. Dear God. She’d been working here for eleven years, ever since high school, ever since moving up here from Kentucky. She made good money. She had made good money. Just like that—with nothing more than her signature—she was fired. Unemployed. This just couldn’t be happening.

  Thoughts of begging, of pleading with Lynn, of grabbing the woman by the neck, of giving her a solid punch in the nose—so many thoughts hit her at once. Her anger swarmed through the room.

  But Thena wouldn’t make a scene. She knew Lynn would like nothing better than to have her escorted out if Thena threw a fit about being canned. She would throw policy in Thena’s face, and she damn well knew the policy. Hell, she’d been here longer than Lynn had.

  Thena’s stomach tied into knots. There wasn’t a lot in savings, some—but how long would it last? Her home was simple, but it was hers. And in a few years it would be paid off. All she had to her name was her car, her clothes, and the furniture in her home. This just wasn’t fair!

  Maybe you should just become the village witch.

  She turned, gripping the doorknob, the metal cold against her sweaty palm, and pulled the door open. The noise of the factory hummed around her. A familiar sound, one she hardly noticed, yet now she heard every sound, the scraping of the machinery, so many voices talking at once.

  There was no way she could support herself with the craft. Besides, she didn’t believe in making people pay simply because she had a gift. Not to mention the fact that Kansas City was hardly a village.

  Her footsteps echoed against the concrete floor as she headed toward her locker, keeping her head up, and ignoring the employees who stared after her with curious looks.

  Fired. She’s been fired. The old bitch finally fired her.

  Tears burned her eyes when she pushed the doors open, her few possessions that she kept at work in her arms. She blinked the moisture away as she headed across the dark parking lot toward her car.

  There was no reason to turn and stare at the familiar building once she reached her car. Its structure was nothing impressive, the many windows glowing with light in the night. There was the large Benn Plastics sign that glowed with its neon radiance, flooding the grounds around it with its artificial light. A dark gray sky loomed around the building, the shadows of many trees bordering it.

  Standing outside in the night air, its coolness soothing her moist cheeks, she let out a sigh.

  “This sucks.” And that was an understatement.

  Fired for insubordination meant no unemployment. Her savings were meager. And at thirty, a black woman would have her challenges finding another job.

  A black woman who has been labeled a witch.

  Letting out a choked sigh, she turned to unlock her car as a breeze moved in around her. She welcomed the cool air, the faint smell of the apple blossom trees filling her senses. But there was something else, something stronger enhancing the elements around her. Tossing her things on the passenger seat, she slid behind the steering wheel and looked through her windshield into the night.

  A power she didn’t understand had seeped toward her. Something strong, something she didn’t recognize. Glancing around her, a shiver raced down her spine as she stared harder into the darkness, searching the parking lot, looking for its source.

  She slid her key into the ignition as something caught her eye. A figure on the sidewalk alongside the parking lot—someone stood there watching her. In the darkness the person was nothing more than a black silhouette, conveniently masked by the night. Yet he watched her. She wouldn’t feel all this power if he hadn’t wanted her to sense him. With that much power, he would be able to control its direction. And he was directing it straight at her.

  And yes, it was a man. Thena could feel his masculinity, a raw carnal power that soaked the air around her with his strength. Whoever stood there had strong enough powers that she sensed them inside her car, strong enough that he hovered around her, even though he stood so far away.

  Her heart started racing and she realized her fingers trembled as she closed her door slowly and quietly. A force that dwarfed anything she’d ever experienced before made it hard to breathe. What kind of being loomed outside on the edge of the parking lot?

  Thena knew things weren’t always as they appeared. There were powers that lingered around people that most completely ignored. Humans worked to manipulate the spirits, but what many didn’t realize was that the spirits could manipulate humans too.

  Ever since childhood, Thena had worked to fine-tune her senses, become one with the elements around her. The gift had been passed down, running thick in her blood. Her mother practiced the craft, as did her mother before her. Thena hadn’t given much thought to it, but had simply worked to strengthen the gift inside herself too.

  Right now it seemed to be working just fine. If only it had been helpful in saving her job.

  Thena’s hands shook when she pulled out of her stall. The man standing on the sidewalk hadn’t moved. He was no more than a dark silhouette, grabbing her attention.

  “Who are you?” she whispered, glancing up to notice the waning moon and wondering if she would get an answer.

  He continued to stand there as she pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward her house. Suddenly losing her job didn’t seem as important to her as figuring out who he was.

  Lost in thought, she drove in silence until she pulled into her driveway. The energy around her had calmed. No longer did she sense an unyielding power.

  “Maybe I overreacted from being fired.” And that would make sense. The strength she’d felt had been too strong.

  Fired. She’d been fired. The lump in her throat grew and tears burned her eyes while a rock twisted in her stomach that she couldn’t make go away.

  Even though she no longer sensed the extent of his power, her own emotions filled the air, moving past her car toward the street. The whole thing pissed her off. It wasn’t fair. Thoughts of fighting it, of filing a discrimination claim against Benn Plastics entered her mind.

  But she’d moved to Kansas City to start a new life. She wanted to fit in, not live on the edge of a society who basically feared and rejected her.

  A witch. Voodoo lover. Weirdo. She’d heard it all of her life. And she’d learned if she kept a low profile, she could walk among everyone else without being patronized.

  “Except that I keep slipping,” she grumbled to herself, grabbing her things from the passenger seat and getting out of her car.

  No matter how hard she tried to just be normal, inevitably someone would have a problem, not feel well, or need guidance, and she hadn’t been able to keep her mouth shut. After eleven years in Kansas City, once again, she was known as the “village witch”.

&nb
sp; That wouldn’t be a bad thing except that it deemed her unapproachable. Why couldn’t she just be known as Thena Cooke? All she wanted was to be appreciated for who she was, an intelligent woman who was loving and caring. Not some strange person to be muttered about and left alone.

  Her temper soured as she headed toward her house. Never had she been so infuriated with her circumstances. And it was possibly that outrage that prevented her from feeling the returning power that floated into her neighborhood.

  Priapus stood at the corner, alone on the quiet street, watching while Thena got out of her car and headed into her home. His overcoat hung past his knees, covering his large frame, obscuring any details that might be identified in the dark.

  Not that there was anyone outside at this hour on the quiet residential street. Decent, hardworking people lived in these homes, all tucked in for the night. He was very much alone, which was for the best. Too many centuries had passed since he’d walked on this planet. No one would recognize him, not in this country, not in this time.

  He stroked his full beard. It wasn’t in style here, but he hadn’t taken time to fully research the latest fads. The last coven meeting on Hedel had thrown him off-guard. He hadn’t expected the plea that the gods return to Earth, help eliminate the demons that swarmed the planet, and work to bring peace to the people that they’d seeded here millennia ago.

  He’d been on Earth before. Once he’d been worshipped, statues erected in his praise, women begging for him and men wishing they were he. But that had been another time, and he had no false pretenses of it happening again.

  Humans had mocked his abilities, refused what he could offer. They’d turned their back on him. Religious leaders had forbidden him to enter their towns, had told him not to come around their womenfolk until in disgust, he’d left Earth.

  When the goddess Bridget had sought all the gods and goddesses out, requested the coven meet, and then put in her plea for help, he’d been inclined to turn and leave quietly.

  “Earth didn’t care for the likes of me,” he’d muttered.

  But he’d been overheard. Others had complained as well, he’d sensed their discomfort in returning to the planet that no longer believed they existed. Bridget had a way about her. And she was a good goddess, unlike some of them.