Call of the Goddess: A Bona Dea Novel (Stormflies Book 1) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Elizabeth N. Love
her. Stopping her ears with her fingers, she continued up the road, not looking back.
Before she realized what she was doing, she packed a travel bag with a few of her belongings—clothes, shoes, a couple of books and a necklace Jon had given her as a token of affection when they first began their romantic relationship.
The half-packed bag rested upon the mattress. She paused in her work and stared at it, confused that she felt an undeniable urge to flee her home. The compulsion was so strong, she continued packing even as she tried to restrain herself. Her body continued to act in ways her mind did not wish.
Her hands, moving independently, closed the packed bag and lifted the strap. Forcing herself to stop the progression, Axandra suddenly understood why she yearned to leave.
The Goddess wanted to return to Undun City. The creature belonged to that city, with its host standing in a position of power before the people as it had for centuries. Images of the stone city impressed upon her eyes, red granite buildings with terracotta shingles, a hill topped with a large white structure like a fortress. The spirit pulled her back there.
I don't want to go. This is my home!
Her body jerked, her resistance limiting the forced movements. The being forced her to pull the strap of the bag to her shoulder. The weight dragged her down so that her feet scooted across the floor, the soles of her sandals scraping the wooden planks. With a surge of force, her feet propelled her to the outer door. Throwing her arms out stiffly, she blocked her own exit.
No! You cannot control me!
Even as she thought to it, her brain became saturated with more images. Ocean waters lapping at the hull of a ship. The wind whipping her hair and dress. Roads. Bumping over gravel and brick. The Palace, brightly lit by the afternoon suns.
Voices swelled in her ears.
We must come to a resolution soon. The people are already growing restless to know who will act as Protectress. (But there is no one else.) There must be someone—
“Stop!” Axandra screamed aloud, raising her hands to her ears. Unsteady on her feet, she felt her spine meet the door frame as she stumbled. The heavy pack caught up in gravity and dropped like a stone in the sea.
Please stop! You're hurting me!
The Palace stayed in her mind, as though the creature said,
Go there. We belong there.
The pressure of the image felt as though the building itself sat upon her chest.
With tears, Axandra conceded to go. “All right. I'll take us to Undun City. But why would they believe me?” she asked it. Worn down from the fight, she slid to the ground, her head to knees. “They think I'm dead.”
A face fixed before her eyes, an old man, very pale with a full head of silver hair cut short. He possessed a round, bulbous nose pock-marked with scars. Red patches of capillaries dotted his pasty complexion. The likeness evoked a sense of familiarity in her. He was a Prophet. She did not remember his name. She long ago banished those people and their identities from her memory.
Without conscious movement, she stepped over to the writing desk and retrieved a few sheets of paper and a pen bloated with indigo ink. Her hand scripted a letter to the Head of Council. Her eyes watched her cursive script on the paper, but she did not compose the letter herself. She didn't even know what it was going to say until she read each word that appeared. Her fingers folded the letter and sealed it with a dab of sticky from the bowl on the desk. After addressing the outside, she slipped the letter into the pocket of her dress. They would send it from the town office before they set sail on a ship to cross the Ocean.
They.
Two creatures locked together. She wanted to be herself again.
Axandra insisted that they write a second letter to Jon. The words that flowed on paper this time were her words. She apologized for frightening him. She explained that it was time for her to go home, a journey that required her to go
Before she realized what she was doing, she packed a travel bag with a few of her belongings—clothes, shoes, a couple of books and a necklace Jon had given her as a token of affection when they first began their romantic relationship.
The half-packed bag rested upon the mattress. She paused in her work and stared at it, confused that she felt an undeniable urge to flee her home. The compulsion was so strong, she continued packing even as she tried to restrain herself. Her body continued to act in ways her mind did not wish.
Her hands, moving independently, closed the packed bag and lifted the strap. Forcing herself to stop the progression, Axandra suddenly understood why she yearned to leave.
The Goddess wanted to return to Undun City. The creature belonged to that city, with its host standing in a position of power before the people as it had for centuries. Images of the stone city impressed upon her eyes, red granite buildings with terracotta shingles, a hill topped with a large white structure like a fortress. The spirit pulled her back there.
I don't want to go. This is my home!
Her body jerked, her resistance limiting the forced movements. The being forced her to pull the strap of the bag to her shoulder. The weight dragged her down so that her feet scooted across the floor, the soles of her sandals scraping the wooden planks. With a surge of force, her feet propelled her to the outer door. Throwing her arms out stiffly, she blocked her own exit.
No! You cannot control me!
Even as she thought to it, her brain became saturated with more images. Ocean waters lapping at the hull of a ship. The wind whipping her hair and dress. Roads. Bumping over gravel and brick. The Palace, brightly lit by the afternoon suns.
Voices swelled in her ears.
We must come to a resolution soon. The people are already growing restless to know who will act as Protectress. (But there is no one else.) There must be someone—
“Stop!” Axandra screamed aloud, raising her hands to her ears. Unsteady on her feet, she felt her spine meet the door frame as she stumbled. The heavy pack caught up in gravity and dropped like a stone in the sea.
Please stop! You're hurting me!
The Palace stayed in her mind, as though the creature said,
Go there. We belong there.
The pressure of the image felt as though the building itself sat upon her chest.
With tears, Axandra conceded to go. “All right. I'll take us to Undun City. But why would they believe me?” she asked it. Worn down from the fight, she slid to the ground, her head to knees. “They think I'm dead.”
A face fixed before her eyes, an old man, very pale with a full head of silver hair cut short. He possessed a round, bulbous nose pock-marked with scars. Red patches of capillaries dotted his pasty complexion. The likeness evoked a sense of familiarity in her. He was a Prophet. She did not remember his name. She long ago banished those people and their identities from her memory.
Without conscious movement, she stepped over to the writing desk and retrieved a few sheets of paper and a pen bloated with indigo ink. Her hand scripted a letter to the Head of Council. Her eyes watched her cursive script on the paper, but she did not compose the letter herself. She didn't even know what it was going to say until she read each word that appeared. Her fingers folded the letter and sealed it with a dab of sticky from the bowl on the desk. After addressing the outside, she slipped the letter into the pocket of her dress. They would send it from the town office before they set sail on a ship to cross the Ocean.
They.
Two creatures locked together. She wanted to be herself again.
Axandra insisted that they write a second letter to Jon. The words that flowed on paper this time were her words. She apologized for frightening him. She explained that it was time for her to go home, a journey that required her to go
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