The Calling Read Free Page A

was small but she was fierce. A smile tugged at her lips at the thought of her daughter.
    Arroway’s hope.
    Her existence had given meaning to Freya’s life. Now hopefully, Freya’s death would give Shayla a chance to find the help she so desperately needed.
    Resting her head on her knees, Freya closed her eyes, drifting off into an uneasy sleep and an old, familiar dream...
She stood at the top of a narrow staircase, her body aching from the climb. In front of her was a door inlaid with runes and pulsating with power. She touched her fingers to the ancient wood, awakening the magic. The heavy door swung inward revealing a circular chamber bathed in starlight, and on a stone slab in the center of the room lay the Goddess, trapped in enchanted sleep. But Freya could sense her restlessness; the magic that bound her was weakening. All she needed was someone to...
    The scrape of the bolt jolted Freya awake. The door of the cell swung open, and three girls stood in the opening She didn’t recognize them. They were young—younger than Shayla—and must have been born after she left the Keep. All beautiful, but all with the vacant expressions of the pleasure slaves. They didn’t speak and kept their eyes downcast as they gestured for her to follow them. A guard stood behind them, but Freya ignored his presence and followed the girls. They led her along a narrow corridor, up a steep flight of stone steps, along a wider corridor, and eventually into a part of the Keep she knew all too well.
    This area was where the pleasure slaves were housed. Freya had spent much of her life here after she had been selected. The place was as she recalled. Comfortable enough, but the air reeked of a sickly sweet mixture of perfume and despair. Nausea roiled in her stomach at the remembered smell.
    She allowed the girls to strip her clothes and bathe her—in fact, the warm water felt good against her skin, soothing her aching muscles. They brushed out her long hair, and she only baulked when they tried to rub the perfumed oil into her skin.
    “I’ll throw up, if you do,” she warned, and they backed off.
    Finally, they dressed her in a red silk shift that skimmed her body, leaving her arms and legs bare, then left her alone.
    Freya stood in the center of the room, gnawing on her lip. The day had taken a strange turn. She’d expected torture and would have preferred it to this. Did they think she would continue where she had left off? That she would meekly kneel down and suck their stinking cocks?
    They would soon learn different.
    The door opened, but she didn’t turn around as soft footfalls sounded on the carpeted floor.

Chapter Two
    Living with her daughter, Freya had become attuned to the feel of magic, and now she sensed its presence. Strong magic with a flavor of Shayla in the pulsating power.
    The man stepped around her and came to a halt a foot away, and she started in shock. She’d thought she had no memory of him, but she recognized him instantly—the warlock who had helped her escape all those years ago.
    Was he here for his reward? If so, he was going to be disappointed.
    Tall with a lean powerful body beneath black pants and a black shirt, he appeared to be in his prime, but there was an air of age about him as though he’d lived for many years. She’d learned much in her time away: the people talked of the Order and what had happened to bring about the Laws of Segregation, but it was so long ago and hard to tell the truth from mere legends. She did know that some of the more powerful warlocks were old. It had even been rumored some had lived over a thousand years, had been there when the witch Casterix nearly destroyed the world, and the Order had saved Arroway from certain destruction.
    As she forced herself to look into his face, her whole body went still. His eyes were green, with a slight exotic tilt. Her daughter’s eyes.
    Freya took an instinctive step back, and her hand flew to her chest to press against her