Raven's Cove

That whispered low within the mist,

Of vengeance and false justice, hissed,

And twined until the soul, confused,

Unable to resist, bemused,

And willing to forsake his faith,

Bade spirit enter. Like a wraith,

The darkness crept in, seized control.

The two now intertwined, now whole,

Saw death descend upon the town.

As spirit grew, held lost soul down,

Regret, repentance rose and cried,

Please help the one ensnared inside.

But darkness had its claws sunk deep,

Would not relinquish hold, would keep,

Soul prisoner forevermore,

Brooked no escape to any shore.

Bright spirit heard but could not break,

Dark spirit’s grip so deeply staked,

Could merely transform man to bird,

And offer hope through cryptic word.

Sleek raven now can steal no breath,

Can cause no harm, incur no death.

But feathers three placed on the door,

Means life within is destined for,

Untimely end. The raven knows,

And with that knowledge, torment grows.

Yet on the day death gains no ground,

And though portended is not found,

Where feathers three by raven placed,

Should death be met and duly faced,

And conquered, then tormented soul,

Will freedom wrest from evil fold.

Unfettered soul may rise, move on,

No more pernicious spirit’s pawn.

Until that day shall raven fly,

The darkness call and people die.

Until the one is once more two

The raven’s curse holds fast and true.

Chapter One

Jasmine heard the phone ringing as she undertook the complex process of disabling her condo’s security system. Always the way, she thought, and considered letting the call go to voice mail. But the door opened, her shoes slipped off easily and the violence of the thunder that had been circling Salem, Massachusetts, for the past hour had her longing to hear a friendly voice rather than the insidious whispers currently echoing in her head.

Those whispers wanted to draw her back to another place and time, just far enough away that she managed not to think of it every minute of the day. Only in darker minutes and thunderstorms.

She ran the last few steps to grab the handset. The spectacular bolt of lightning that corresponded with her breathless “Jasmine Ellis” flickered on through the “Ouch” that followed when her bare foot came down on a leather dog toy. A moment later, two large paws planted themselves on her chest and shoved her onto the sofa.

Laughing, she shoved back. “Hello to you, too, Boris.” She caught the dog’s chin. “If it took you this long to get here, you must have been sleeping on the bed again.”

Her three-year-old German shepherd barked twice. Meant yes, or in this case, guilty.

Still laughing, Jasmine dislodged his paws and returned her attention to the neglected caller. “Sorry—hello.” A prolonged crackle made her sigh. “Melvin, is that you?”

To his delight, her assistant’s seven-year-old son had recently discovered the snicker value in playing practical jokes. He’d called her twice last night to crinkle tissue paper in front of the mouthpiece.

“I can hear you breathing, kiddo.” Giving Boris’s ears a quick scratch, she shrugged off her black trench. “First rule of practical jokes, the same old, same old doesn’t work more than twice. …”

The crackle came again, so sharp she drew the phone from her ear.

“Jas, it’s me,” a man on the other end shouted. “Are you there?”

A chill danced across Jasmine’s skin. She stood slowly, her eyes locking on the polished floorboards. “Daniel?” Then suspicion swept in, and she spun to scan the darkness beyond the living room window. “Who is this?”