The RavenFlight Witches, Book Two: Originations

Prologue

                                                                                The Late 1600's

Martha Blake was angry and confused. And hurt. The town had turned against her. Her closest friends whispered the ugly rumors when they thought she wasn't paying attention, and the others just blatantly stared at her with a mixture of fear and distaste, even outright hatred in some cases.

It had all started after she had been intimate with Jesse. They had been sneaking around for months, hiding their friendship as Jesse was to marry Betsy. The friendship had become something more, a passion igniting between them that they couldn't deny. Martha had given herself willingly, knowing it was considered wrong, knowing it was wrong, because of Betsy. But Betsy was an uptight, snobbish prude who cringed when Jesse touched her in even the most casual and innocent ways. Jesse had told Martha all this, and she'd witnessed it herself. 

Between Martha and Jesse, however, there was no cringing, only illicit pleasure. Martha knew Jesse could never be hers in marriage, but she didn't care. And then Margaret Crowley, the old bitch, had caught them in her barn. She had chased them out, hurling insults at them, and Martha had been mortified. But she'd also been angry, so angry and...well, something had happened...Margaret's feet got tangled up in the hem of her dress, and she'd fallen. Except it had been more like the hem of her dress had tangled up her feet on purpose, she would later tell anyone who would listen. Witchcraft, she had whispered.

Strange things often happened when Martha was angry or upset. Things like the tea kettle whistling when no water was in it and the stove was cold, and the cooking kettle flying off the hook over the wood stove. And once, Martha's younger brother had suffered a fat lip after breaking her only doll. That was strange because no one had touched him.

Martha didn't know why or how those things happened but now, the whole town was whispering right along with Margaret Crowley. Her closest friend, Alice, wouldn't even speak to her and Jesse...well, Jesse hadn't sought her out in days now.

Martha ran through the woods, only the light of the moon guiding her. She was running towards the clearing, her special place in the woods, the place she and Jesse had first known each other, the place where she felt peace. She paid no heed to the howling wind in the trees or the rocks along the path that flew aside as she ran, not fully understanding that she was causing both things. 

This was not just, she didn't deserve to be an outcast, to be hated and feared. At fourteen years old, not much past a child, she knew the punishment for witchcraft even though no such thing had been done around here for at least fifty years. She wouldn't stand accused like this. No, the town must pay for this injustice.

                                                                        ****************

Lamoreia was weak and cold in this place. How long had it been since her banishment from the spirit realm that was her home? She didn't know, she could barely recall it other than to remember it was warm, always so warm. 

She was born a sensual spirit, what some would call a succubus. Spirits like her could cross the barriers between all the realms of existence and engage in sexual congress with the beings in those realms. The pleasure of such encounters fueled such spirits, kept them vibrant and thriving, and the pleasure they provided was unmatched. 

Lamoreia's own appetite was never satiated, though. She had to move into the other realms more frequently than the others like her, and, as a result, she had broken the only rule of her kind: she had fallen in love with a human man. She went only to him and shared such intense pleasure, craving him constantly as he did her.

When, Adrimiter, her father and the monarch over the realm, had discovered the forbidden relationship, he had immediately and mercilessly turned her away and sent her here, to the human realm.

And here she had cowered under these bushes, weak and frightened, waiting for her inner light to finally extinguish, for the pain of not knowing sexual pleasure to be done. Here, she waited to die, cold and alone.

When the girl broke into the clearing, Lamoreia was barely able to sense her, but the girl's anger and fear could not mask the longing within her. Lamoreia knew this child had known passion and pleasure...her memories were strong, and she was open. Even though the young girl was seething with anger, she was also thinking of a man, someone who had brought pleasure in her often, and those memories were warm! Lamoreia could feel her strength growing with the knowledge the girl was unwittingly sharing.

Suddenly, Lamoreia wasn't waiting to extinguish. Here was a way to survive! This girl could be her pawn, her source of the pleasure she needed to reclaim her vitality. She wasn't sure how it might work, but she sensed it could. The girl was feeding her enough memories of illicit pleasure that Lamoreia was able to move towards her.

She swirled, slowly as she was still weak, around the girl. Child, she murmured, Let me help you.

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