AWEN RISING, E4: Chapter Nine
Possession
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Chapter 8, Possession
Shalane shivered. The salon was cold, but that wasn’t the issue. At forty-five years old, hormones had her cranking down thermostats wherever she went. She trusted her team to take care of such details; they were handpicked to follow orders.
Her teeth chattered as ice coursed through veins more used to hot flashes. The cold penetrated Shalane’s core, and the shaking started in earnest. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and doubled over, rocking back and forth to break the grip of the chill.
It had happened again. Only this time, Shalane had been meditating before the show. Another wave of chills tore up the back of her neck, gathering frost to break against her furrowed brow. Cold sweat gathered over lips, gone numb. As from far away, the orchestra played the opening strains of her introduction. The crowd responded. She must get up. She must go on.
Shalane focused on the wispy threads of thought emanating from the crowd. She followed first one strand, then another, drawing energy from the emotion carried within each until the icy cocoon shattered and fell away.
With no time to spare, Shalane rose from the sofa and inspected her appearance. Her China-doll face appeared whiter than usual, her pupils too large. Platinum hair framed her cheeks and brushed her shoulders. Her cobalt robe hid a waist not as tiny as it had once been.
The robe was fashioned from the finest black-market silk by a generous devotee. For Shalane, the Exalted. She Who Grants Boons. She fingered the soft, hand-stitched material gathered at her neck and resisted the urge to rip it from her throat. She must pull herself together.
Shaking like a wet terrier, Shalane shoved the last tendrils of ice from her consciousness as the orchestra pounded out the crescendo. Thirty-eight thousand, five hundred, and twenty-three pairs of hands and feet clapped and stomped in unison, begging the Reverend Carpenter to appear before them.
She opened the dressing room door and hurried toward the stage, nodding at the attendant who must’ve interrupted the trance by pounding on her door at curtain call. He now stood solemn guard in the hallway.
Shalane paused shy of the curtain to cup bejeweled hands and inhaled deeply from the vial of Dragon’s Blood oil she kept for such purposes.
The applause swelled. The crowd shouted, “SHA-LANE, SHA-LANE!”
Gathering power to her like a cloak, Shalane thought of her adopted grandson Ned, and a smile spread across her face. She stepped through the curtains, only to slam into an invisible wall.
Shalane shook her head. Was that the roar of the crowd? Or had some outside force planted itself in front of her? She wavered, paralyzed, unable to move, see, or hear.
Commanding the force to leave her in the name of the Lord of All, Shalane blinked, and the world reappeared. An arena full of people sat before her on the edge of their seats, shouting, “SHA-LANE!”
But whatever she had meant to say was gone. Fear gripped her throat. She invoked Archangel Michael and clawed at the otherworldly veil. She was God’s emissary, was she not?
Out of Shalane’s throat came a joyous whoop, followed by a blood-stirring “Hallelujah!”
Then she broke into her signature song and surrendered to rejoicing in the Lord. The audience joined in, and the orchestra played along, kicking off Shalane Carpenter’s First Evangelical Tour of America.
To her devotees, Reverend Carpenter appeared inspired. Unflappable. But fear burrowed inside the woman Shalane. Finding a spot behind her left eye, it drilled a hole and took up residence, leaving her orbit throbbing like an infected tooth. But worse was the panic rippling through her. What if she blacked out on stage? The consequences to the tour would be disastrous.
☼☼☼
Nergal watched the screen. The human addressed an auditorium filled to capacity. His instructions to the searchers had been explicit and straightforward. Find a spiritual leader with psychic powers and a penchant for perversion.
Seeing Shalane in action confirmed Nergal’s suspicion: she was the perfect vehicle for disseminating the Drac’s plan to take AboveEarth.
When the woman bowed, he sent a tickler through the Fomorian linked to her mind and chuckled when she raised a fist to the heavens. The fool human didn’t suspect a thing.
Nergal watched her posturing and reveled in his good fortune. He would keep an eye on this one for a time before notifying the Draconian Council. The previous targets had proved too fragile. But Nergal had an instinct about this one.
Stretching to change bandwidths, his claw halted mid-air.
The woman sang in an angelic voice reminiscent of his forebears. Though he was far removed from such hallowed ancestors, the song reverberated in a wistful corner of Nergal’s memory. He’d obviously been stuck in this hellhole too long.
With renewed interest, he studied the screen. Something about the woman niggled at him. The melody rose, and his vision went soft. Rubbing his head to clear the fog, Nergal studied the round face. Tilted eyes barely contained large brown pupils split by irises on the vertical plane.
The scales on the back of Nergal’s neck crawled. He knew those eyes.
Zooming in for a closer look, Nergal gulped. Shalane Carpenter was not just a human-reptile mix. She was a rare, earthbound Reylian. The Draco had known only one in all his years—his old consort, Camille.
In the far distant past, Nergal had roamed AboveEarth on secret missions via an idle volcanic chute. He had met Camille during one such foray. Afterward, they used the volcano as a rendezvous point. Until a double-crossing firedrake blocked the passage.
Much time had gone by, but Nergal never forgot the Reylian-humanoid despite his usual distaste for mixed breeds, even after he had heard Camille was dead.
A thought came to him, and Nergal rose from his seat, horrified. Was Shalane Carpenter a descendant of his consort? If so, the sorceress-priestess could be his indirect spawn. Gagging, Nergal staggered to the loo.
~ To be continued in Chapter 9, A New Start, dropping Monday, June 16, 2025, at 4:44 am MT. I will add a link here once that episode posts.
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From my heart to yours, Olivia
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Photo courtesy of Mockup Shots
ahhhh can't wait for more!!!