Born of Magic: Mata Hari Series #2 Read online

  The doubts, the worries… the guilt slowly dissolved as she became one with first the sound, then the vibrations and finally the nothingness that lay beneath it all. Lifting both arms to the ceiling, she dropped her head back and called out.

  “I, coming forth am Amen, the hidden one. Wisdom beyond time, open your portals.” The vibrations within her grew stronger. “Open. Let me know my path.”

  Her chest tightened to a point where she could hardly breathe. Her nostrils filled with the comforting smell of kyphi. The ivory wand in her hand grew hot and she wanted to drop it, but she held on. “Tell me—Lend me your strength. Give me your guidance.”

  With a lightness of being, she felt lifted up, as if the wind carried her to the sky. Lifted, lifted… higher and higher. And then it stopped, and she plummeted to the ground. The sacred vibrations stilled within her. The sense of being part of something larger extinguished like a flame doused with water. It was over, and yet she had not been given anything. The gods had forsaken her.

  The sound of the crackling fire brought her firmly back to where she began, alone, in a houseboat. A woman facing death. Her screams of pain echoed from the future into her heart. Pain… so much pain.

  Exhaling a stuttered breath, she gathered herself together. Part of her wanted to cry, but the tears would not come. She wanted to scream and rail against the gods, until her words funnelled through time, but she had no voice. How could this be? A searing, deep sense of pain and fear coursed through her body. She cringed and shuddered in its wake. Was there no hope?

  And then it came to her, a simple idea, not a grand vision from the gods, but a straightforward plan from the rational side of her mind. But it would go against her beliefs. She would turn towards… She gasped for air and it came in force.

  The tightness in her chest and throat eased. The thought, just the thought, made her feel good. She had never explored the dark side of herself. Perhaps she should… embrace it.

  She swallowed. How could she consider such treachery? How could she turn her back on her gods?

  A voice in her head whispered, “Perhaps, no life is truly full until you have embraced the darkness within.”

  No, she shouldn’t, couldn’t listen to such heresy. She was a child of the light, always the light.

  “How can you know the light, if you don’t know the dark?” questioned the voice growing louder within her mind.

  “Because it is right.”

  The voice laughed. “You are a mature woman. You know the world isn’t simply filled with right and wrong. You know that there are many shades of gray. Do not resist what your dark side is telling you. Listen, learn, explore…”

  A sense of glee gathered in her heart. Hope. Maybe she could find a way to have everything she wanted. Maybe there came a time in a woman’s life when she needed to consider all options.

  Could she break the rules? Could she go against the oaths she’d sworn her soul to? The image of lying on her death bed in ravaging pain flashed back before her eyes. Did she have a choice?

  Black rubbed against her legs. She picked him up and placed him on her lap. He purred as she rubbed the soft fur behind his ears, and he stretched his neck up inviting her to rub him there too. The way Black her confidant of years, nuzzled into her… Go ahead. Be a woman. Live a full life.

  Dare she?

  3

  The Alley

  “Love is merely a madness…”

  William Shakespeare, As You Like It

  Eighteen years ago, Amsterdam

  After discussing soccer for twenty minutes, the Al-Sharif brothers left the quaint Dutch café. Chasisi, the middle brother, headed back to his hotel room to review business reports. Hasani left with the waitress on his arm, to look at the stars over the canal. There weren’t any, but that didn’t matter. The young eager woman had a twenty minute break and he intended to make the most of it.

  Bakari, riding the excitement of the meeting, headed out for a walk, to stretch his muscles and clear his mind. He did his best thinking when he walked, and he needed to get beyond his excitement and consider his next big goal.

  The medieval town of Amsterdam grew around three concentric canals. Unlike American cities that are planned in rectangular grids, this city had a rambling, circular pattern, with meandering alleys and roads between the canals. It could be confusing to get around, especially at night, but darkness and strange landscapes didn’t scare him. The cold wind hitting his face invigorated his mood.

  He went up one side street and then another. When he ended up on a third, he stopped. Where am I? The surroundings looked familiar and yet strange.

  No worries. The center of Amsterdam is small and if he kept going he’d end up at a canal and could navigate his way from there.

  As the sliver of a moon slid behind a cloud, the street on which he walked narrowed to an alleyway. The sounds of people and the life of the city faded away. That’s weird. He couldn’t remember being in any part of the city and not hearing the hustle and the bustle of over a million inhabitants.

  He walked on, looking for light ahead. The smell of garbage put out for collection sullied the air. The alley narrowed even more. Surely I must be coming to a road soon. A rat skittered along the edge of the pathway.

  Pulling his coat closer to his body, to keep out the growing dampness of the evening, he soldiered on. A twinge of fear, like a premonition, grasped his heart. He shook his head, as if he could whisk it away. I can’t let the dark get to me.

  He needed to be practical. At the most he must be five minutes from the next canal. There he’d find light and life.

  The sound of chanting in the distance scratched at his mind, as if it wanted inside. Chanting? He must be near a church. It sounded Christian, but he couldn’t be sure. The words were not distinct.

  How could I get lost? He prided himself on always knowing where he stood. Must have been the excitement of the deal that led me astray.

  Alone in the alley, he vowed not to let that happen again. His new companion, the rat, stood up on his back paws twitching his whiskers as if he had something to say. The chanting grew louder and more ominous. He turned around trying to get a fix on the direction from which the droning came, but he couldn’t tell. The words, still indistinguishable, closed in on him, stealing his breath. Latin? Egyptian? A shudder ran up Bakari’s spine. He couldn’t make sense of them. Stopping, he listened.

  A pierced-gut feeling sent a red alert through his body, rattling his nerve endings. His mouth dried as fear flowed through his veins. He looked ahead to search for a glimmer of light from a church, or house, or street lamp. But there was nothing but darkness… layers of cold, damp darkness without end.

  And then he saw her. A woman carrying a flashlight walked towards him. His rational mind told him to rejoice. He’d found light and humanity. But that spot deep inside him, where his intuition lived, cringed. Maybe, he’d found something else in the backstreets of Amsterdam. The chanting stopped, but the dark silence of the night became even more terrifying. He’d never felt so alone, so vulnerable.

  The woman wore a tight black mini-skirt that barely covered her perfectly sculpted, bare legs, the color of warm cocoa. The terror in his heart eased and he reminded himself to breathe. When he managed to lift his eyes above her legs, she grabbed them with her own, and held him in a spell. Or so it seemed. Does any of this make sense?Have I been drugged?

  He couldn’t look away from her. His terror eased. She had a power he’d never encountered, and her whimsical smile told him she knew it.

  He breathed her in with all his senses. Her body a landscape of luscious curves, called him, ready to be taken. He swallowed with a dry mouth. He didn’t like feeling out of control at any time. He liked to have his own way.

  The woman stood just a bit shorter than him and her black hair fell loose to her waist in long thick waves. She had a wild animal look about her, a primal magnetism, and the eyes of an ethereal temptress. Her skin glowed, warm and inviting. And her
full, high breasts captivated him. He wanted her more than his next breath.

  The sway in her hips as she walked toward him, the unmistakable look of hunger in her eyes and her intoxicating fertile smell made his blood boil. He had to have her.

  “Bakari, it is time,” she said.

  Raw sexuality flowed from her body in waves caressing him with desire, pulling him to her, pulling… The sweet sound of her voice stroked his carnal appetites. She now stood before him, within arm’s reach. The need in his body rose to a painful level. With trembling hands he reached for her.

  The first touch of her silky skin sent a hot flame of desire licking through his senses, setting his body on fire. He put his hand around her head to kiss her and then stopped.

  How did she know my name?

  As if in response, the woman gave him a cunning smile and ran her hand along the length of his manhood. All thoughts drained from his mind. With the strength of a warrior she pulled him to the ground and tore at his clothes. She straddled him.

  Her blouse flew through the air and her perfect breasts were bared. Sweat dripped down Bakari’s face. She lifting her skirt to her waist and, for a moment, hovered above him, letting him taste anticipation.

  Her flashlight lay on the ground, and he could see her clearly. She wore no panties and the hair between her legs glistened with moisture. Her eyes possessed a strange, orange light. But he didn’t care who she was or what she was. He wanted her.

  Without a word she took his full erection inside her in one confident motion. He gasped with pleasure at the suddenness and completeness of her act. Her body tight, clenched around him, hot and wet… and inviting.

  She moved. Slowly at first, letting him feel the long slow thrusts of her hips. In and out. In and out. Her body warm, and soft and wet. Her fertile scent… hungry. He moaned.

  But it was all happening quickly. Too quickly. Part of him loved being taken, but the other part wanted control. He struggled to not explode.

  Arching her back, the enchantress pushed her body down on him over and over again. Moaning like a cat in heat, she took his hands to her full, firm breasts, the size of ripe melons. Her erect nipples, hard in his palms, felt like perfectly round nuggets of gold. She wanted him, as much as he wanted her.

  Deep within her, he tasted heaven. The motion of her body more erotic than anything he’d ever experienced.

  She smelled of ripe pomegranates and wine. He could hardly bare it, the pleasure so intense, so hot… His body alight with insatiable pleasure and desire. Being taken by a stranger, taken without any preliminaries, made it all good. So damn good. He didn’t want it to end.

  Like an annoying mosquito bite, he heard his brother’s gruff warning. “Be careful.” But what could be wrong with this, a man and a woman having great sex, great, great sex.

  Their bodies slick, with sweat, moved together in a sweet fucking unison he would never forget. She rode him hard, then harder, gaining a momentum that drove him wild. Enveloping him in her warmth, pulling him to the end. He fought to hang on, to enjoy this woman as long as he could. She reached down and bit his lip, hard. He cried out as blood filled his mouth. But he wouldn’t let go. He hung on.

  Increasing her thrusting to a point of wild abandon, she looked into his eyes, willing him to finish. He grabbed her firm butt and pulled her hard. Each stroke of her body sent him to a higher level of ecstasy, until he couldn’t hang on another second.

  His orgasm exploded through every nerve ending in his body, then a cold shiver crept up his spine as his consciousness shattered into a million pieces. His body convulsed and he heard himself groan.

  Visions of fire and death, symbols of the arcane, filled his mind. A hawk screeched above him. Images of a large golden ankh, the eye of Ra, and ancient hieroglyphics flashed inside his mind, as if they wanted to tell him something. But he didn’t know what. He didn’t understand their meaning. His mind flooded with blood, fresh blood, the same as he tasted in his mouth. Bakari dropped from the heights of physical joy into a vat of darkness and lost consciousness.

  The woman laughed.

  4

  The cruelty of fate

  “Actions are the seed of fate…”

  Harry S. Truman

  Bakari’s Estate, Cairo, 2014

  Bakari awoke from his dream. That all happened long ago. Why am I tortured by the memory now? He sat up in his luxurious bed, his body covered in sweat from reliving the experience.

  The strangeness of that night had never left him. Its passion and power had been too strong to be denied. Over time he thought less about it, and chalked it up to a chance encounter with an exotic woman.

  But now he knew her identity and knew that nothing about their meeting had been an accident.

  Bakari shook his head. That must be why the dream came to him tonight. His subconscious needed to play through his memories to make sense of it all. The Egyptian sorceress, who had advised him through most of his adult life, had forced herself on him.

  He swallowed. No. It wasn’t just his mind looking for answers. It had to be more than that. He’d gone back in time to the moment she took his sperm to conceive their son, for a reason.

  What was the vision trying to tell me? As if in answer to his question, Djeserit materialized beside him, back from the dead, appearing in a wispy ghost form. Goose- bumps rose on his arms and bile rose in his throat.

  “I want you to remember,” she said. Her voice laced with fear sounded neither alive nor dead. As it trembled, ripples of energy flowed through the air.

  “I could never forget that night.” Bakari tried to connect with her, but the apparition had no real eyes, just dark sockets, blacker than the night, which made his blood run cold. “For years I thought you were a demon from my sex fantasies. Nothing more. But the sensations of the… union never left me.”

  “It happened, Bakari. And now you know it was me.”

  This wasn’t a shock. She had told him this on her death bed six months ago, and yet he felt rattled. “Why have you come back to me now?”

  “I need your help. I set in motion a darkness that will curse generations to come. I must do what I can to stop the trouble I have caused.”

  “I don’t understand.” He reached out to touch her, but felt only air and pulled back.

  “We have a son. Khalid the Immortal. May the gods forgive me for what I did. I wanted your seed. I wanted your strength and determination to mix with my blood. I believed that if I had a son as strong as you, and trained in magic like me, I’d be safe. He could protect me from a painful death that awaited me. Instead, he caused it. I was wrong.

  “The union was unholy. The boy is not made from love, but from my selfish need and sorcery. The terror of my death was a result of him. And now he is on a path to become a black wizard.”

  “You were wrong to keep the boy from me. Boys need their fathers.”

  The air cooled. “I have come to you to warn you. He is dangerous.”

  “He is my son. I have been looking for him, and when I find him I will embrace him. I will bring him into my family, give him a home. He will know my love and my strength. You need not worry. I can handle him.”

  “Keep your amulets close for protection.” Her voice softened and her ghostly form began to waver. “He does not understand love, only power. He is hungry for power.” Like mist at sunrise, her form dispersed and he was alone once again.

  “Djeserit?” He reached for her once more, but her ghostly figure vanished.

  From beyond, her fading voice called out. “Kill him, Bakari. Kill him.”

  ∞The End∞

  Also by Jo-Ann Carson

  The Mata Hari Series

  #1 – Covert Danger

  #2 – Born of Magic

  #3 – Ancient Danger

  #4 – Lovin’Danger

  ________________________________

  The Vancouver Blues Series

  Black Cat Blues

  Ain’t Misbehavin’

  Le
t me tell you about the other stories in the series.

  Covert Danger

  Book #1 – The Mata Hari Series

  A single woman — A double life

  High fashion model, Sadie Stewart, is a dedicated undercover CIA agent used to getting her man. But this time she’s chasing a power-hungry, international arms dealer stealing ancient Egyptian amulets. Brilliant, ruthless and slightly wacko, he’s a hard catch. She’s willing to risk everything to stop him, but the handsome Sebastian Wilde, who looks like a modern Viking, keeps getting in her way. Her independence is shaken as he stirs feelings in her that she thought only existed in fairy tales. Can she put their attraction aside and get the job done?

  Covert Danger is the first book in the Mata Hari series. If you like Indiana Jones and Covert Affairs, you’ll love this award-winning book, which combines all of their best traits in a fast-paced, captivating and sexy, romantic suspense.

  Buy Covert Danger today, if you want sexy adventure and love in your life. Only 99 cents.

  A cross between Indiana Jones and Covert Affairs

  Award Winning

  Smart Sexy Suspense

  Buy Links

  * * *

  Ancient Danger (A Novel – excerpt to follow)

  A single woman – a complicated life

  During a costume ball in a Venetian palace, an assassin tries to kill Sadie Stewart, the international model with a double life. When she contacts her old boss at the CIA for help, she is swept back into the world of espionage and agrees to do one last mission. Arms-dealer Bakari al-Sharif is planning to steal an ancient, Egyptian scarab imbued with magic from Highclere castle. Because Sadie is the only person who has ever gotten close to the man and lived, the CIA want her to stop him.