Kia Stewart has been kidnapped by witches!
Ever since Kia was born, Loraine has dreaded the day she would have to face the past and her involvement in the Undercover Satanic Witches Coven. Her 9-year-old niece’s destiny is to be sacrificed to Beelzebub on Black Friday and Loraine knows she is running out of time to find her!
Meanwhile, after years of suffering from PTSD as a result of her parents’ deaths, Tori Robertson starts to uncover her mother’s history with the same coven of witches.
Spiritual phenomena bring these two women together. Will Loraine and Tori find the answers they need, not only to rescue Kia, but also to make peace with their pasts?
Find out in this epic showdown between Christianity and Satanism!
This novel has a special emphasis on the power of prayer and its impact on angels, demons and other spiritual forces.
There are supernatural events and even miracles that occur, toward the greater purpose of saving Kia Stewart from Satanism and witchcraft.
This book series also leans toward God's desire to save all people, no matter how evil or what kind of lives they have lived. And there is a touch of romance in all three books!
I think readers will appreciate the fact that even though miracles happen, prayers are answered and people are saved, there is still room for human error, impatience, anger, and even death. This is not purely a happily ever after story or series. There is a very real experience of darkness for each and every character and I think this makes the story more relatable to all of us.
Chapter 3 KIA
One day earlier
For the sake and safety of her beloved daughter, Loraine Stewart never varied her weekly routine.
She couldn’t remember why, she only knew that it was critical her daughter remain in the presence of other people every minute of every day. Never left alone. Never walking alone in the streets, playing alone, or waiting alone at any bus stops. It was for her protection. Loraine couldn’t exactly remember what she was protecting her daughter from, she only knew that the threat was serious. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach. She could smell it every time she left her house. She could taste it in the air and see it written across the sky. Her daughter’s life was precious. Her daughter’s life was at stake. And she was her daughter’s guardian angel.
She wasn’t sure she had the right to call herself a mother, as she did not remember giving birth, or even conceiving a child for that matter. She might be like the Virgin Mary. She wasn’t really sure. Her earliest clear memory of the past was of being nineteen years old, running with a baby girl in her arms. All she knew was that she had to keep running and protect the baby.
She walked her daughter to school every day, right to the classroom door. She had given the principal and teachers at Kia’s school a list of requirements she’d handwritten with a dark pen, emphasizing parts with capitalized words, underlining, and fluorescent yellow highlights:
1. Kia Stewart is NEVER to be left alone.
2. She will NOT attend any excursions without her mother.
3. She will NEVER be picked up from school by a stranger.
4. If I, Loraine, do not fetch her from school: CALL THE POLICE.
5. If she does not arrive safely at school and I have not contacted the school: CALL THE POLICE.
6. Kia is NEVER to be left in the care of parents associated with the school.
7. She will NOT be attending any birthday parties or events at which a school teacher or I cannot be present.
8. If there are any accidents, emergencies, or extracurricular activities at the school I must be notified IMMEDIATELY, even if it is just a fire drill.
9. If the integrity of any teacher comes into question, I will withdraw Kia’s attendance from the school IMMEDIATELY.
10. If I feel that my daughter’s safety is in jeopardy, I will withdraw her attendance from the school IMMEDIATELY.
If any of these stipulations are not met, I will not only withdraw Kia from the school, but will also take LEGAL ACTION against the school!
No doubt they thought she was a lunatic or at the very least had some mental issues. She wondered as much about herself. But she knew there were reasons behind it all—she just couldn’t quite remember what they were. What had happened to her before Kia? She didn’t know. She had a few scattered memories of her childhood and teen years, but nothing concrete until the age of nineteen. Her past, before discovering her destiny in her role as Kia’s guardian, had been swallowed up by a black void of terror.
Loraine walked Kia to school on Thursday, fifteen minutes from their house, as she had done countless times before. Kia stepped through the classroom door just as the bell rang, the same as every other day. Loraine waved goodbye and walked home, where she would work for a few hours, ready to walk back to the school at exactly 2:15 p.m. to pick up her daughter again. She was usually the first parent to arrive, and she would wait by the classroom until her daughter came out.
The only reason Loraine didn’t home school her daughter was because she had to work and earn enough money to keep them both alive. Ironing was her job. From 9:30 a.m. until 2:00 p.m., she ironed baskets of clothes, then again from 9:00 p.m. until midnight. The clothes were dropped off and picked up by their owners, and she had regular clients now who brought her steady work. She charged sixteen to eighteen dollars a basket, which usually took about an hour and a half to iron. So she earned an average of eighty-four dollars a day, five days a week. She put aside money for her taxes and bills, paid her rent and used the remains for food and clothing. She had no car to worry about and barely any social life.
Today was no different. With Kia safe at school, the ironing was waiting for her at home. She would be back well before school finished to fetch Kia and take her home as usual. Or, at least, that was the routine.
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So this was where the girl went to school: a quaint, primary school on the outskirts of town, nestled between Hope Valley and Highbury in the Tea Tree Gully area. How convenient.
Nicia stepped out of the car she drove, not caring if she looked conspicuous. Actually, she knew she did. She had always been attractive. She’d taken her work uniform off and replaced it with tight clothes that accentuated her slight figure with perfect feminine curves—not too big and not too small. She was dressed rather like a businesswoman with a black skirt that stopped just above the knee, stockings, black high heels, a skin-tight red top with a low enough V-neck to reveal just the right amount of those curves, and a pair of black-framed glasses. Her black hair was thick, long, and wavy, with contrasting streaks of color through it; blonde, strawberry-blonde, bright-red, and burgundy-colored waves shimmered on the surface, weaving in and out of the stormy sea. She left it loose and hanging down to her elbows. She wore makeup as well, mostly around her extraordinary eyes, alternating colors according to her whim: thick mascara and black eyeliner, purple blends of eye shadow, and a pale purple lipstick that made her luscious lips glow.
Walking with an air of confidence, she spoke to the secretary in the office and then entered the school. She passed the first-grade classroom. The girl would be nine now, that would put her in third or fourth-grade.
After passing the second-grade classroom, she glanced into the third-grade classroom, looking for the child she and the others had sketched only a few weeks ago. They’d kept a distant eye on her for the past few years, and now, finally, the time was right. The stars, moon, and planets were aligned, and the gods were waiting. She winked at the male teacher in the third-grade classroom, but she couldn’t see the girl, so Nicia walked to the fourth-grade classroom and tapped on the door.
Getting into the school was ridiculously easy—as easy as it had been several years ago for Nicia to slink in and murder Bronwyn Leech at a school further out. One of the teachers had gone looking for the girl when she did not return to class and had found her on the bathroom floor, drained of blood. Nicia knew all this, not only because she was the one who slit the girl’s throat and watched her bleed to death, but also because she’d taken the time to form a symbol using the girl’s body and blood and then had waited for them to find her. She had snuck off to work while they were busy calling the police. Of course, the police could do nothing because no one had seen or heard a thing. Nicia had bypassed the school office and the teachers back then. This time, she wanted to leave some evidence that she had been here, in a last-minute attempt to provoke Loraine.
Nicia’s sister Dido had called the school and affected a voice that sounded exactly like Kia’s so-called mother. “This is Loraine Stewart. I’m just calling to advise the school that my sister Nancy Stewart is coming to pick up Kia for a dentist appointment today at noon.”
“That’s fine, Ms. Stewart. Nancy will just have to bring her driver’s license and sign in at the school office.” That was easily done! With false identification, Nicia was allowed through the gate and permitted access to the classrooms. Not that she couldn’t have bypassed the office and snuck in, but casting a few spells on teachers’ eyes to distort their memory of her appearance was half the fun!
The fourth-grade teacher opened the door. She looked more like a witch than Nicia did, with ugly glasses perched on the end of a long, pointy noise. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. I’m Nancy Stewart, here to pick up Kia Stewart for her dentist appointment.”
The teacher’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and Nicia handed her a piece of paper—a forged letter from Loraine Stewart permitting her daughter to leave with Nancy Stewart. “They mentioned you were coming,” the teacher commented. “Where is Loraine today?”
“Loraine is unwell, and because she doesn’t drive, she asked me to pick Kia up,” Nicia replied, smiling kindly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am a little pressed for time.” Nicia then turned her head and winked at Kia, whom she had identified sitting in the middle of the classroom. It was, no doubt, one of her mother’s stipulations that the girl should never sit in any corners by herself. Kia stood up and started clearing her desk. Good girl!
The teacher then turned to Kia. “Is this your Aunt Nancy?”
“Yes,” the girl replied.
Nicia thanked the teacher and held out her hand to Kia, who obediently took it and followed the stranger out the door.
It was probably the easiest kidnapping that had ever taken place.
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Kia knew the instant the classroom door opened that this woman was here to collect her. She seemed to know a lot of things that she wasn’t supposed to know. Once, she saw a boy trip over and snap one of his front teeth in half, seconds before it happened. She tried to warn him by crying, “You’re going to trip!” but it was already too late. She knew that one of the girls in her class—the one who smelled funny—had nightmares every night that caused her to wet the bed, but she’d never been told that. She knew that there were invisible creatures all around that other people couldn’t sense. Not fairies and gnomes, but something dark and something light. And she knew, somehow, that Loraine Stewart was not actually her mother.
She also knew, just by looking at this lady, that they had something in common—maybe this gift of knowledge. Kia had always been smart for her age, even though she was the smallest person in her class. She always kept to herself and no one ever picked on her, because if they did, they knew she would somehow get revenge, like she had with the boy she’d predicted would trip and the smelly girl she had blackmailed.
When the woman winked at her, Kia felt her body start to move. She picked up her books, walked over to her school bag which sat on a shelf amongst the other school bags, and put the books inside. When her teacher, Miss Miller, asked if this was her Aunt Nancy, the word yes came flying out of her mouth, though Kia knew intuitively that the woman’s name was not Nancy Stewart at all.
Her hand joined the woman’s in a magnetic grip, and Kia’s young mind was not powerful enough to fight against the older woman’s strength, so she had no choice but to trust it. Kia felt unusually at home following the woman out of the school. She loved the stranger’s hair. Perhaps when she grew up, she would have thick, curly hair like that. But Loraine had always said that Kia’s hair was thin. Maybe if she wished hard enough and clenched her whole body in concentration, it would grow thicker—like magic.
“What’s your name?” Kia asked the woman. “I know it’s not Nancy.”
Nicia smiled. “You’re right, little girl. My name is Nicia.” She pronounced it Nish-a. “What’s your name?”
“You already know my name.”
“Yes, but do you?”
“It’s Kia Stewart,” the little girl responded.
“No. Your name is Kelta. Just Kelta,” the older, much wiser woman announced. “Do you know where we are going, Kelta?”
“Not exactly. But I know I’m not going home today and that I’m not going to see Loraine.”
“Why do you call your mother Loraine?”
“Because she says she’s my guardian angel,” Kia replied, “and I don’t think she’s my mother.”
Nicia giggled and steered the girl toward the blue Holden with tinted windows that couldn’t be seen into. She strapped Kia into the back seat, and the little girl’s first thought was that there was power here. It was the same dark-and-light power that had followed her around all her life. It lived in the house with her and Loraine. It played its revenge and blackmail games with the children at school. Sometimes it protected her. Sometimes it punished her.
They drove for over half an hour, from the northeast of Adelaide to the southeast, winding high into the hills, through Stirling, past Aldgate, over the Onkaparinga River until they reached a cemetery off a short dirt road in Echunga. Kia was feeling very tired with all the turns the car had taken during its ascent. Or maybe it was the power in the car that sapped her strength. She was too young to figure it out.
Nicia lifted the girl out of the car like a sack of potatoes. She carried her over to one of the open graves toward the back of the cemetery and, after tying a rope around her small waist, said, “We will come and get you after the sun has set.” Then Nicia threw the girl six feet down, into the grave.
Suddenly Kia felt awake again, falling into darkness. She screamed with all the strength she could muster. She landed on something hard, cold, and damp. It sounded as though branches had snapped beneath her, and the stench was worse than anything she had ever smelled in her life. She knew it was the smell of death. She had been thrown on top of a rotting corpse!
Kia could not stop screaming.