Prologue

     The maid was an outrage, but a mere annoyance compared to the young woman. There was something unsettling about her. What made this entity different? Where did she come from? What did she want? Really! What did she want? Despite the apparent fragility of the vision, Moriah felt a strength of will from the specter, a strength of determination intense enough to span time and dimension.

     When she rose from the bed, the floor seemed to reel beneath her. Not only had the visions disoriented her senses, but also she had had too much gin. More than that, her entire body ached, her breath came sharp and hard, and a distinct, tingling sensation pricked at her fingertips. She was convinced that she was working too hard, seeing too many clients, draining her energies needlessly. Were her defenses down? Might she be in a weakened state from overwork? Was it possible that these unbidden spirits appeared because she was no longer in control of the barrier between life and not life? Might there be more unwarranted intrusions from spirits she’d not conjured? The thought made her shudder.

     She moved to the window and watched the street below. There was no sign of life on the darkened roadway. Moriah considered the purpose of the mysterious visitors and knew these women weren’t something she might have conjured for entertainment and money during a séance. They were irritatingly familiar, but like a face in the crowd, hard to see with clarity, hard to distinguish even as close as they’d been. Who were these intruders? These vague reminders? What did they want? There was urgency in the first woman’s voice. Was she dead or alive? If she was dead, how urgent could it be? Moriah questioned if that was the visitor’s intent. To the contrary, she believed that the ghost was a threat, possibly a warning sent to prepare her from some unforeseen event.    

     Was someone in imminent danger? She pursed her lips and frowned as she stared into the frigid night. As she basked in the glow of the new moon, her face half in shadow, half in light, her mind journeyed to the heavens, beyond the mundane everyday world of mortals and their petty affairs where people worried about parking tickets, the cost of vegetables, and schools for their children. She had surpassed such temporal considerations. 

3

Was there unfinished business? She felt herself flush as she reviewed the behavior of the spectral minx. Instinctively, she knew that she hated the shimmering bit of femininity and her message.

     Had her guides sent them as a warning? And if her guides knew they might be dangerous, why hadn’t they warned her during one of their regular visits? She returned to her bedside table and poured a swallow of gin. It always soothed her, aided her through difficulties. It relaxed and stabilized her when she was anxious. She knew that her spirit guides disliked her drinking, but she rationalized that they never had to live in the poverty that she’d suffered as a child. They didn’t have rotten parents or cruel playmates. They didn’t understand rejection and betrayal. They were free of such mundane concerns.

     She glanced at her old black, batter train case sitting in the corner. The contents reminded her that she must ever be wary of men and must always be self-reliant. It was a dog-eat-dog world and Moriah was never again going to be on the receiving end of abuse.

     She felt certain that her spiritual guides did not entirely comprehend her suffering. Tamur, Salu, and Ashtoreth didn’t have to make their way in a dog-eat-dog world. They did not have to rely upon building a client base nor were they dependent upon the compassion and generosity of those same people. Most of all, the threesome didn’t know the first thing about business.

     Her guides were beings beyond physical dimension; they flitted in and out of her life, directing, suggesting, and giving insight. They made no demands. What she did with her gift and their advice was her choice.     

     The spectral contact could not have come at a worse time, she thought, with plans to kidnap the Van Zandt brat. Rest and focus were vital. Strength, physical but especially mental, was paramount. She needed to marshal all her resources to convince Joanna van Zandt that she, “the all-seeing, all-knowing Moriah,” had the answers to Joanna’s daily worries.  Manipulating the naive mother, thus far, had been child’s play, but the playing was about to end. She planned to embark on what could be a perilous journey and Joanna van Zandt would pay the passage. 

Read the First Six Chapters 

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