Author's Note:
My apologies for the long gap between this chapter and the last. Real life dealt me some serious blows and I struggled with the muse. Please enjoy this chapter of Laresa and feel free to comment and vote if you'd like. Most of all thank you for enjoying Laresa ~ Red
Ben jerked awake as the sound of rain splattering against the window mingled with the sound of a fire, crackling from his dream, merged as one. He reached out for the ring, cradled it in his palm and then brought it to his chest. With a trembling hand he flicked the lamp on. Cautiously he opened his fingers.
The amber gem glistened and the warmth of it radiated up his arm. He'd seen her. . .Laresa. He'd watched her willingly walk to the alter, willingly lay across it and willingly die for her people. She hadn't screamed, pleaded, or even cried as the flames devoured her. Ben knew it was because she'd been drugged and/or hypnotized by the shaman of her people. He wouldn't have known this had it not been for all the research he and the Society had on the Djinn and their existence.
Yet, Ben knew even more than most. His dreams were becoming more intense and detailed since he'd been struck by Horace's medallion months ago. No longer could he deny that there was something happening to him. Tonight's "vision" as he was now referring to them, was one that was not only lengthy, but was also very personal. He'd been there. He knew it was odd to say and if he told his friends, they would tell him he was nuts, but he wasn't. He had been there watching Laresa die.
"You're not dead though; are you? Your people didn't know until it was too late. You're in there waiting; I can feel it. I can feel you," Ben whispered to the glittering stone.
Twelve hours ago he had arrived in Chicago and found Franklin anxiously waiting for him. They had both traded information as fast as their mouths could move and their minds comprehend. In the end, both admitted that just laying all the artifacts out on the table could be dangerous. It was at that time that Ben confessed to Franklin that he'd been having dreams. He shared with him how they had started out as simple ones, not meaning much, but aiding him in finding exactly where to look in History for evidence of Djinn interference. He thought nothing of it at first, just good luck and outstanding wits. Then he had stumbled upon, or was pointed to, papers concerning a legend in a small town of Massachusetts. He visited the town and read what little history was available on a "Witch" called Bethany. The hours grew late, so he opted for a hotel in the sleepy town. That night he had the first of what would later become many dreams. As he slept, the legend became real and he watched it all happen as if he were there.
Bethany had suddenly appeared one day on the outskirts of the town. She was dressed oddly, wearing thin revealing clothes that made many a man stare in lust. Women gawked and then whispered behind her back. Yet, she said nothing, just smiled wide as she made her way through town and eventually stopped at the edge of a farm. Everyone knew the farmer had passed away; the woman seemed to believe the owner, a young man of only twenty-four years, still lived there.
Bethany walked up to the house, a look of confusion on her face when no one came to greet her. She still pressed on, walking in as if she owned the small rickety home. When she came out, the women of the town were whispering about her odd dress and the manner in which she had appeared. She asked where Jeremy was and a man came forth, leering hungrily at her. He explained that the young man had killed himself, distraught over the loss of his fiancé. Bethany fell to the ground and wailed for Jeremy, eventually sobbing about going back in time and saving him, confessing that she wanted her magic back, that her life was not supposed to be like this. She was all powerful and she demanded her love return to her.
The town folk were stunned, but for the most part the men didn't care about Bethany's litany of words. They were seeing a woman, single, and desirable. The women however saw the lust in their husbands' eyes and the words "Witch," "Demon," and "Hell" circulated through the small mob. The smarter men pulled their wives away, the weaker ones listened and soon Bethany was hauled from the porch and pushed onto the ground, where she was beaten.
Still she wailed as she twisted a ruby encrusted bracelet and begged it to let her back inside. The women shrieked and tore at Bethany's clothes, lifted her by her hair and dragged her to a rotted tree. She was bound to its lowest branch, forced to remain on her toes to stand upright. Not once did she beg for freedom, lost in the despair of her dream being crushed. Men groped her. Women poked her with sticks, lashed at her with reeds and called her vile names. Still Bethany cried to the gods and goddesses, pleading for them to take her back. She wanted to go home; she wanted to be in her bracelet. She wanted a Master.
Ben watched in horror, unable to move in his dream, or speak. He saw a woman appear, pushing a lighted torch into her husband's hand and then urging him to light the woman and the tree on fire. He hesitated, but knew who he was married to and who would make his life a living Hell if he didn't obey. He didn't want burnt food for the rest of his life, so he stepped forward and ran the torch over the gauzy dress that Bethany wore, then he pushed the flaming end into the rotting trunk, where it took on a life of its own.
That night, when Ben woke up from his first dream, he'd been screaming. The flames of Bethany consuming him as it did her so many years ago. He'd spent a week on researching everything he could about Bethany and Jeremy, eventually uncovering what some saw as "legend" was indeed fact to him. Bethany had been found by Jeremy, her bracelet at the bottom of a dried well that Jeremy had fallen into as a child. Bethany and Jeremy had become friends, and later lovers as the boy grew into a man. But suddenly Bethany disappeared. No one knew where she went, but Jeremy did and he blamed himself, soon afterwards ending his life.
More dreams followed, some revealing to Ben that some Djinn led wonderful lives, others led horrible ones, but all had been freed with the help of some element that was formed at the time of their imprisonment. It was because of the dreams that he now lay in bed holding a genie and not yet offering to free her.
Franklin told him they needed to think before they just jumped in and tried to free Laresa. Especially now that Ben had seen the ugliness of some Djinn's lives. Ben agreed and though it had taken him hours to do it, eventually he'd fallen asleep in one of his friend's guestrooms. A soft knock on the door, brought him back to reality and he tucked the ring in his pajama shirt's pocket.
"Come in," he called out and watched Franklin's wife walk in with a tray grasped tight in her hand.
"It's early, but I heard you rustling in here and thought you'd like a cup. Franklin's in the study, ready to see you when you're up. He's been studying those trinkets you brought."
Ben smiled and thanked Franklin's wife, Abby and watched her as she set the tray down and turned to face him. "I've supported Franklin in all he's done with the Society. I think you should give the girl a choice. He told me about the dreams. It's not your right to force her to be something she may not want to be." She lifted her hand and Ben stopped the words that were about to come out. "Franklin's waiting. Drink up and whatever you two decide, I'll be supporting you. Especially if you pull that child from her ring. She'll need someone to hold her hand."
He watched Abby leave and pulled the ring back out of his pocket. "Why wouldn't you want freedom?" he asked the amber stone and then he remembered Bethany. "She chose to go back to that time. So do you get to choose? Where would you go Laresa? Who would you want to go back to? Or . . .would you want to stay here?" A spark of desire ran through him as he recalled the beautiful woman who was sacrificed for the weather. He would care for her. He'd love her and cherish her, guide her and protect her.
Ben shook his head as he repeated the thoughts. "Sounds like you'd marry her to keep her safe," he muttered, slipping the ring back on his finger. Quickly he dressed and shaved, all the while enjoying sips of Abby's hot tea and small biscuits she'd also brought up.
Once downstairs, Ben made his way to Franklin's office. He noticed the older man bent over, magnifying glass in hand and staring intently at something on his desk. "Amazing detail," the old man said as Ben closed the door behind him.
"Oh?"
