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    Maya's Aura: The Ashram
    Maya's Aura: The Ashram
    Maya's Aura: The Ashram
    Ebook245 pages3 hours

    Maya's Aura: The Ashram

    By Skye Smith

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    About this ebook

    NOTE: This is the third novel in the “Maya's Aura” series.

    In this naughty novel of magic and mayhem, our young Maya is on the run and following a quest.

    Her healing hands have a side effect of creating fatal heart attacks in predator men. Unfortunately her youthful good looks attracts them like tigers to a lamb.

    With the police wanting to question her about heart attack coincidences, she flees to Europe to visit her friend Marique in Belgium.

    She must find out more about her powers, and since all answers seem to be in India, she and Marique to buy cheap tickets to Mumbai.

    Marique has come to India for the tropical weather and the beaches, but first Maya must visit an ashram that is known for it’s use of auras in meditation.

    The girls soon find out that life at the ashram is not as wholesome, or as innocent as expected.

    About the Author

    Skye Smith is my pen name. My family convinced me not to use my real name because my stories are so critical of predator males. You'll understand and forgive me this as you fall in love with sweet Maya, my main character.

    For those of you who like stories about vampires, witches, and magic, you won’t be disappointed by my very different, more realistic take on it all.

    My vampires are parasites wearing business suits. My witches are healers ignored by the modern world. My magic is based on aura’s, and everyone has felt or seen an aura at least once in their lives.

    The novels so far in the "Maya's Aura" series are:
    1. “The Awakening" .- published - She discovers her strange aura.
    2. "The Refining" ... - published - She learns how to use her aura.
    3. “The Ashram” .... - published - She searches for answers in India
    4. “Goa to Nepal” ... - published - She follows a quest into the Himalayas
    5. “The Charred Coven” - under construction - black craft in England.
    6. “The White Witch” - under construction - white craft in England

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSkye Smith
    Release dateSep 4, 2012
    ISBN9780988131439
    Maya's Aura: The Ashram

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      Book preview

      Maya's Aura - Skye Smith

      MAYA'S AURA

      The Ashram

      (Book Three in the Series)

      By Skye Smith

      Copyright (C) 2012 Skye Smith

      All rights reserved including all rights of authorship.

      Cover Illustration is a part of The Moon by Alphonse Mucha (1902)

      Quotes from Mahatma Gandhi

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Revision 0 . . . . ISBN: 978-0-9881314-3-9

      Cover Flap

      NOTE: This is the third novel in the Maya's Aura series.

      In this naughty novel of magic and mayhem, our young Maya is on the run and following a quest. Her healing hands have a side effect of creating fatal heart attacks in predator men. Unfortunately her youthful good looks attracts them like tigers to a lamb. With the police wanting to question her about heart attack coincidences, she flees to Europe to visit her friend Marique in Belgium.

      She must find out more about her powers, and since all answers seem to be in India, she and Marique to buy cheap tickets to Mumbai. Marique has come to India for the tropical weather and the beaches, but first Maya must visit an ashram that is known for it’s use of auras in meditation. The girls soon find out that life at the ashram is not as wholesome, or as innocent as expected.

      * * * * *

      * * * * *

      MAYA'S AURA - the Ashram by Skye Smith

      About The Author

      Skye Smith is my pen name. My family convinced me not to use my real name because my stories are so critical of predator males. You'll understand and forgive me this as you fall in love with sweet Maya, my main character.

      For those of you who like stories about vampires, witches, and magic, you won’t be disappointed by my very different, more realistic take on it all. My vampires are parasites wearing business suits. My witches are healers ignored by the modern world. My magic is based on aura’s, and everyone has felt or seen an aura at least once in their lives.

      The novels so far in the Maya's Aura series are:

      1. The Awakening …… - published - She discovers her strange aura.

      2. The Refining ………. - published - She learns how to use her aura.

      3. The Ashram ……….. - published - She searches for answers in India

      4. Goa to Nepal ………. - published - She follows a quest into the Himalayas

      5. The Charred Coven ... - published - She fights black craft in England.

      6. The Crystal Witch …. - published - She learns psychic craft in England

      7. The Redemptioner … - published - Psychic dreams of her ancestor Britta.

      8. Destroy the Tea Party - published - Britta’s adventures in Boston in 1773.

      * * * * *

      * * * * *

      MAYA'S AURA - the Ashram by Skye Smith

      Table of Contents

      Title Page

      Cover Flap

      About the Author

      Table of Contents

      Chapter 1 - Manhattan, New York

      Chapter 2 - Manhattan, New York

      Chapter 3 - Manhattan, New York

      Chapter 4 - Manhattan, New York

      Chapter 5 - Manhattan, New York

      Chapter 6 - Amsterdam, The Netherlands

      Chapter 7 - Bruges, Belgium

      Chapter 8 - To Mumbai (Bombay), India

      Chapter 9 - Mumbai (Bombay), India

      Chapter 10 - Karla Caves, near Pune, India

      Chapter 11 - Pune (Poona), India

      Chapter 12 - Ashram in Pune, India

      Chapter 13 - The Hills near Pune, India

      Chapter 14 - Ashram in Pune, India

      Chapter 15 - Ashram in Pune, India

      Chapter 16 - Ashram in Pune, India

      Chapter 17 - Ashram in Pune, India

      * * * * *

      * * * * *

      MAYA'S AURA - the Ashram by Skye Smith

      Chapter 1 - Manhattan, New York

      A 'No' uttered from the deepest conviction is better than a 'Yes' merely uttered to please, or worse, to avoid trouble. - Mahatma Gandhi

      No, repeated the studio's New York lawyer. One of you must stay to testify at the coroner's hearing. Karen is needed in Hollywood to continue the promotional tour. You, Maya, were the last person to see Rich Lumbar alive. Karen leaves, you stay. He shrugged his shoulders and stared at the willowy blonde. Hey, it's only three more days.

      Maya looked up at Karen Marshall, her friend and the star of the movie they were promoting. She gave her best puppy dog look, pleading. She didn't want to stay in Manhattan alone. She didn't want to go to a coroner's hearing. She especially didn't want to testify about the death of Rich Lumbar, the infamous and rabid host of late night talk shows.

      Karen tried to ignore her friend's pleading look while she finished packing. It's only three days, love. Mr. Roth here will pick you up and take you to the hearing. As soon as it's over you can pack up and catch the next flight west. She understood why Maya didn't want to stay in Manhattan alone. She was barely twenty, and a sweet young thing. Manhattan was as nasty a place for sweet young things as anyplace on the planet.

      Not only that, but Maya had this thing about psychopaths. She had been attacked and abused by a psycho predator up in Canada, so now the last thing she wanted was to be stuck alone in a city that catered to psychopaths. In most places psychos made up about one percent of the population, mostly male. Around Wall Street the number was more like ten percent.

      Karen moved over to where Maya was also packing. Now that the star of the film was leaving, the studio was moving Maya out of this shared executive suite and into a normal single room. She was, after all, just an extra, even though she had a named part in the credits. She hugged her friend and said softly, Just stay safe, stay in the hotel, and put everything on the company account. You'll be fine.

      Jesus wept, said the lawyer looking at his watch. He didn't have time for this little girl nonsense. Just because you make movies about vampires doesn't mean they exist. The streets of Manhattan are totally safe during the daytime. The anti-terrorist funding pays to have a couple of big cops on every street corner. Sheesh.

      The two women exchanged a glance, and then Karen asked him to wait out in the parlor while they finished packing. When he was gone she clenched her eyebrows and hissed, Jerk. Safe for some fat ass lawyer perhaps, but he has no idea of how brave a young girl has to be to walk around. Listen, if you get bored have the hotel book you on one of those guided coach tours of the city. They even take you to the Statue of Liberty.

      She stopped talking because the loveliest feeling was drifting through her body. She felt a cozy awareness of well-being, and sensed rather than saw a glow of white light, and sensed rather than smelled the scent of lily of the valley. It was Maya's aura. Now that the negative energy had left the room with the lawyer, her friend was allowing her aura to build.

      In all her years in TV and movies she had never experienced the touch of another person's aura until she had met Maya. And Maya did not just have an aura. She had a mega aura. You didn't have to be on Ecstasy to see it. You didn't have to shuck all your clothes and meditate yoga style to feel it. It was so strong that anyone could sense it. Not see it, not smell it, not touch it in the normal way, but sense it in such a way that you thought that you could see, smell, and touch it.

      There was a knock at the door and the lawyer's 'New-York-snide' accent called through the door. The bell hop was here for the bags. Karen stepped over to her two giant wardrobe suitcases ,dropped the lids and locked them. She checked herself in the mirror, smoothed her skirt down, and then called back, Send him in. I'm ready.

      The three of them followed the bellhop and the cart into the elevator and down to the lobby. A man in a limo driver's black suit jumped up out of an easy chair and motioned the bellhop to follow him to the limo. Minutes later, Maya was left standing with the lawyer in the loading area, waving goodbye to the limo that was sweeping her friend away to the airport.

      The lawyer reached out with an arm to motion to a cab. When he turned to face her again, he said gruffly, I'll be here Monday morning at ten. Be ready. Wear something, ah, something not revealing. Okay? He didn't wait for an acknowledgement. She was just an extra. A nobody. He climbed into the cab, gave his office address to the driver, and didn't look back.

      Maya did not stay outside long. She had already found out how quickly New York's November drizzle could soak and chill you to the bone. She spun on her heel and walked back into the hotel, and up to the front desk. She put Karen's keycard on the desk in front of a tall woman dressed neatly, but all in black. Hi, I'm supposed to be changing rooms this morning. If you give me a keycard for the new room, I can just shuttle my stuff between the rooms.

      The efficient woman swiped the keycard into her computer and looked at the screen. She clicked and scrolled, then clicked and scrolled again. You have the suite for three more days.

      Maya groaned to herself. This kind of screwup always happened to her when computers were involved. I was told that the studio had arranged for a normal room for me starting today.

      Hmmm, the woman hummed while she clicked some more. Are you sure? This morning a Mr. Hanover paid for three more days for your suite. She clicked some more. There is no other room reserved for you.

      Maya moaned. I don't know any Mr. Hanover. Could it be that someone else has reserved the suite for him because I was moving? Always, every time. With her and computers, anything that could go wrong did go wrong. The two guys she lived with up in Vancouver had soon enough learned not to let her touch any of their computers. It was only through pleading that they allowed her to use their antique Nintendo 64.

      Hmmm, the tall woman said with a frown. It wasn't paid from the same account as your original reservation. Not from the studio account. Was that really Karen Marshall with you just now? My daughter loves her old TV reruns where she kills vampires. She still looks so young.

      She looks younger every month. I think it is the aroma therapy I give her. Lily of the Valley.

      Really, I'll have to try that. Lily of the Valley. Listen, I'm sorry for the confusion, but the only room I have for you is the suite. I suggest you keep it for now while I track down this payment by Mr. Hanover. It was probably credited to the wrong room.

      But if that were true, mumbled Maya trying to think clearly as doing anything involving a computer made her go brain dead, wouldn't the smaller room still be reserved for me?

      There was more clicking. Nope. It was cancelled by Mr. Hanover. He must be from the studio, or maybe one of your sponsors. Hey, don't fight it. I wouldn't mind being put up in that suite. Our cheap rooms tend to be in the back next to the elevator shaft, with a views of a brick wall.

      Maya took the keycard back and walked toward the elevator. The woman was right. Why fight it. It was someone else's mistake. It was up to them to correct it. She wondered if the company account included room service. Probably not, not without Karen. She changed direction and went into the coffee shop to check their prices.

      She sat down and was handed a menu by a bored-looking waitress. The place was empty. She glanced at the menu and understood why. It was printed in English and Arabic, and a regular coffee cost six dollars. That was more expensive than the biggest macchiato crapuchino from the BigBucks coffee chain. The waitress read the look on her face and walked away. Seconds later Maya stood and walked out of the cafe and towards the woman at the front desk.

      Where is the closest place to buy a box of breakfast cereal? she asked in a low voice.

      Out the front door, left, left at the corner, then three streets down. On the corner there is an all night mini mart. The woman gave her a warm, almost motherly smile. There are courtesy umbrellas at the taxi stand.

      Maya went back to the room to put some black tights on underneath her short dress, swap her pumps for her cross trainers, and draped herself in the designer trench coat she had bought at a consignment shop in Vancouver ages ago. Well, at least two months ago.

      * * * * *

      She found the mini mart and, more important, found a big box of Honey Nut Oatios, a quart of milk, and a plastic container to use as a bowl. The bonus was that the useful container was filled with caramel popcorn, so she had all the food groups covered. Next door to the mini mart was a snack bar advertising two eggs and hash browns for $3.99. She was so there.

      A feeling of smugness filled her up along with the eggs, as she thought that she was getting a breakfast for less than the price of a coffee at the hotel. Mind you, it was a strange little place with a decor that was sort of in a time tunnel from olden days. The only seats were round chrome stools with red vinyl cushions. The only tables were one long bar that ran deep into the room, and a shorter one that ran along the front window.

      The view from the window was, well, gray. She didn't know what New York looked like in the sunshine, but in the November drizzle everything was gray. The sky was gray, the streets were gray, the sidewalks were gray, the walls of the tall buildings were gray, and the reflections in all the windows in the tall buildings were gray. It was no wonder that all the New Yorkers she was watching as they hurried by in their rain coats, all looked gray. The only splashes of color were the yellow cabs.

      Her eggs were yellow too, and the hash browns were crispy and delicious. The place was busy, yet strangely quiet. No one was talking, gossiping, joking. Everyone was keeping quiet except for the few words needed to order food and pay for it, and of course, the sound of people eating quickly with their mouths open.

      Slowly, without staring, she looked at the people around her. They looked normal enough, and yet they all seemed a bit weird. Like for instance, when the man sitting next to her wanted the salt and pepper, he did not ask her to pass them. Instead he got off his stool, walked around behind her, grabbed the glass shakers, and then went back to his stool. Very weird.

      There was a hot dog vendor's barrow in front of the next shop. He was doing a roaring business, much better than this snack bar, even though the hot dogs were not cheap. She shuddered. One of her mother's boyfriends, a butcher, had once told her that the only way to make sure you don't get sick from meat was to never ever eat anything made of ground meat. If you can't recognize the cut of meat, don't eat it.

      With the wrinkles pushed out of her tummy, she headed back to the hotel. She was very careful to hug the side of the sidewalk closest to the buildings. On her first day in New York she had learned that the endless taxis and buses did not care if they ran through gutter puddles and splashed the pedestrians. She had also learned that the New York gutters carried a lot of dog poo.

      Back at the hotel she waved to the nice woman at the front desk and got a smile back, and then girded herself for the elevator ride up to her room. Elevators creeped her out. Not that she had been on many. There were no elevators in the town of Albion in Mendocino County, California where she had grown up. There was something just very wrong with elevators. They felt wrong. They gave her the heebee jeebees. Probably something to do with her aura.

      Her aura was something she was looking forward to as soon as she got into her room. Turn up the heat, strip down to nothing, meditate yoga style, and allow her aura to fill the room. Re-energize. Re-vitalize. Push away all of her insecurities.

      That all had to wait. There was a maid making up her room, or rather, pretending to make up her room while she watched an old episode of Fame on the TV. All her stuff had been moved off the bed and had been piled onto a luggage rack. She hated strangers touching her stuff. Both giant beds had been made up with fresh linen, even though she and Karen had slept together in one and had not touched the other.

      What’s up?

      Checkout is eleven, the maid replied not looking up from the TV show. You're late. I put your stuff over there.

      I was told that I still have this suite. That I don't have to move. Computer glitch, Maya pouted as she sat down beside the maid to watch the end of the show, which usually included a lot of singing and dancing. Good stuff. When the credits started to roll the maid turned off the TV and stood and walked out of the room without a word, and with an armful of clean towels, which seemed strange. Of course. Strange because this maid had no cart.

      She moved to the door in the wake of the maid and locked the door behind her, then she opened her suitcase. It didn't look like how she had left it. She prodded her hand around making sure nothing was missing. It seemed okay so she shrugged and went into the bathroom. The bathroom wasn't okay. There were no towels. Merde! she cursed under her breath and skipped quickly to the main door to see if she could catch up to the maid.

      Out in the hallway there was no sign of the original maid, but there was a new one complete with cart, doing the room across the way. Hi, uh, the maid that made up my room took all the towels. Do you mind if I grab some?

      The big black woman smiled at her and looked up and down the hall, and then looked down at her clipboard. Mr. Hanover's suite, that you?

      No, it was Karen Marshall's suite, and I was supposed to move to another room, but there was a computer glitch and I was told to stay on.

      Yeah, well, they print my list at seven in the morning, so it's probably out of date. You say a maid took your towels?

      Yeah, she was just in my room making it up and she took them when she left.

      Honey, I made up your room an hour ago. This maid, was she in a uniform like mine or was she wearing a tight skirt? Tall? Pretty? Lots of makeup? As the big woman spoke she was putting together a set of towels from her cart.

      Now that you mention it, yeah, she didn't look quite like a maid. It was some kind of uniform, but more, umm, sexy. Lots of cleavage. Long legs.

      Figures. the maid waddled past Maya and into her room with an armful of towels. She called back over her shoulder. She was no maid. She was from the massage parlor down in the basement. We call them towel girls. For a big woman she moved quickly and lightly. She

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