Janine's Journey: A Supernatural Mystery

JANINE’S JOURNEY

by

Starlight Devi

Smashwords Edition Copyright 2014 Starlight Devi

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book 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’re 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.

Contents

Chapter 1 – The Hidden Agenda

Chapter 2 – The Awakening

Chapter 3 – A Providential Letter

Chapter 4 – The Legend

Chapter 5 – Twin Souls

Chapter 6 – The Path Chosen

Chapter 7 – Do Dreams Come True?

Chapter 8 – Reincarnation

Chapter 9 – Partners in Crime

Chapter 10 – Oak Trees and Mistletoe

Chapter 11 – Dee’s Secret

Chapter 12 – The Lover

Chapter 13 – Fatalities

Chapter 14 – Hell

Chapter 15 – A Problem of Identification

Chapter 16 – November, Five Years On

Author’s Note

Other Books by Starlight Devi

Chapter 1 – The Hidden Agenda

The High Priest sat at the head of the circular crystal table, looking troubled. His brow was furrowed and there was sadness in his eyes. As usual he wore a pure white long sleeved robe. A thin braid with the omega pattern wound its way along all the edges; the hem, the edge of his wide sleeves and his neckline. Around his waist was a wide gold belt. Opposite him sat the High Priestess, dressed in a similar robe, the only difference being that the braid around her garment bore the sign of alpha, the Greek letter ‘a’. Together, the High Priest and High Priestess marked the alpha and omega, the beginning and the end. But the symbols were that of the life of man, not of themselves, for being pure spirit, they were immortal, which was symbolised by the shape of the table: the never ending circle which has no beginning and no end.

Around the table were seated ten more priests and priestesses garbed in robes of pastel hues; pale rose pink, soft blue, lilac, all showing the different attributes they brought to the High Council, but all had one thing in common. They were, in their very being, nothing short of perfect goodness.

Sentice, the High Priest cleared his voice.

‘We have a grave matter in front of us today. We are being called upon, by the One whose sacred name must never be uttered aloud, to train a Light Worker in the west. This is not unusual: we have done it many times before. In the past we have trained nuns and monks to reach exalted states, nuns and monks who have become saints. Some of you have trained people of a much lesser ilk but just as valuable in their own right: not nuns or saints in the normal accepted sense but people who do better working within home and family, people who have compassion for others and wish to exercise the gift of healing, the laying-on-of-hands. Everyone that we have trained has expressed a desire, through prayer, to be used as an instrument of Light. Never before has it been necessary, to approach someone, before the desire arose in them, and tell them that they are chosen for this work. Worse, that they have no choice. But this is the case, and the worst case I have come across, because, although she has an aunt who can heal and who possesses some knowledge of herbs and although she herself is pure and upstanding, she has no conscious knowledge of us, or of her own gifts or spiritual potential. No knowledge of reincarnation, the foundation of our teaching; no knowledge of life after death, clairvoyance, clairaudience, trance, nothing...’

Sentice suddenly stopped, having realised that his voice was rising, and metaphorically took a deep breath to try to calm down.

‘I beg The Council’s pardon,’ he continued in a quieter tone, ‘but this is a job like no other, for two reasons. The first is that our charge is only sixteen years old...’

A shock wave ran round the table. Some High Council members, who had been looking down in concentration, looked up sharply, consternation on their faces.

‘But that is not all,’ continued Sentice. ‘The second point is the timescale. We start this very day and we must teach her the basic principles ...in ...six...weeks.’

The emphasis was not lost on the High Council members. There were gasps and cries of, ‘It is an impossibility......’ ‘It’s never been done before,’ while others shouted out replies of, ‘Yes it has, there is a guru who is alive today and he was working when he was only thirteen,’ only to be countered by another council member who shouted out, ‘Yes but that was in India and anyway he had trained in his previous life and remembered it all,’ whilst another retorted, ‘What about that Italian nun who entered a convent at six?’ .... ‘Yes, yes,’ someone shouted in answer, ‘but that was different. Her sister was the Abbess and she had years of training ahead of her and anyway she wanted that life, didn’t Sentice just say this person may not?’

And so it went on, the comments, questions and queries flew around the table until Sentice, in no doubt that he was not the only one who was appalled at the scale of their mission, clapped his hands for attention.

‘Please, priests and priestesses, please. I know how you feel, and share your disbelief. We can win a little more time in that she does not start her mission in earnest for just over a year..........’

‘Did you say she?’ said Adelina, ‘a woman, a mere girl to do a job where she will be ridiculed, pulled to pieces, a female to fight the dark side? There is no way she will be a match for the servants of the evil one. And at her age, with no spiritual training behind her, they will finish her off before she even starts!’

Danona raised her hand. She was new to the Council and reluctant to voice her opinion, still unsure of her ground.

Sentice smiled, ‘You’re not in class, Danona, speak up.’

‘When you say she has had no training, do you mean that she hasn’t seen the dark side yet, not the hideous faces on the wall, which she tries to tell herself are only shadows on wallpaper? Has she not woken in the night to see a dark shape bending over her or heard disembodied voices? Does she even recognise the vibration of the dark forces?’

Danona shuddered, remembering her own training, which wasn’t so long ago. Bartumas put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and looked enquiringly at Sentice.

‘No,’ said Sentice, ‘she has not.’

Voices rose from the table in further outpourings of disbelief, but stopped as Sentice held up his hand for silence.

‘The Almighty has chosen this particular being as from aeons ago, knowing that the world would one day be in its present state; the state of wars in many parts of the planet, spiralling crime rates, rapes, immorality, disease and economic disaster. Because of the strength gained by the forces of darkness over the last forty years, I am told that this person must now take up her place and, as it will be a year before she starts her mission in earnest, we also have a few weeks the following summer and she will be able to ask questions in her mind and will be able to hear Dregheda’s responses in the intervening year. In this way we will seek to train her and give her the outline of her mission.’

‘Then,’ said Adelina, ‘did the Almighty not see fit to give her the basic grounding and why the emphasis on the six weeks?’

‘In the first instance, I don’t know. The Almighty has His reasons and I for one would not dare ask. As for the second part of your question, there are two reasons,’ replied Sentice. ‘The first is that she is staying with her aunt who lives near The Round, for the rest of the summer, so we have easy access to her and she can also look to her aunt for support during that time. The second reason is that we need to teach her not only the basics, but to ensure she accepts her mission.’

‘You mean,’ asked Bartumas, incredulously, ‘that she may decline?’

‘Yes,’ said Sentice, looking furtively at Dregheda as if pleading for help. ‘She may decline.’

Dregheda, the High Priestess, turned to look at Bartumas and then her gaze took in the rest of The High Council.

‘It is unlikely, in my opinion that she will refuse. She is the last of the Friths and must realise that she has to carry on the Frith tradition of herbs and healing which goes back seven hundred years. She is also at the stage, and has been for some time, where she has the feeling that she does not belong. She feels that she does not fit in anywhere, she is looking for something within herself and so I am sure she will agree. She belongs with us, is essentially one of us in nature, and as soon as she realises what her future is I am sure she will be overjoyed. Meanwhile, I take on board all you say, and understand your doubts, although I do not share your apprehension; but He has spoken and we must all do His bidding. I, more than most, must take the responsibility for the success or failure of this mission. For you see, the being in question, whose name is Janine, happens to be my charge.’

*****

Janine, blissfully unaware that in another dimension her whole future was being discussed, stirred, stretched and sat up. The early morning sun streamed in through the chintz curtains promising yet another hot day, her first day with her aunt.

Janine hated summer… or rather she hated sunlight, which always gave her a headache. She didn’t like the winter either because it was too cold. She wished she could stay in the sun without feeling ill. She was all right in the shade, under the trees, but you couldn’t live your life like that: seeking out the shadows in the summer, hugging yourself in front of the fire in the winter.

Maybe she was hiding from her destiny. She started. Where did that thought come from? She didn’t even know what her destiny was! Another decision to be made! Janine hated making decisions. After the summer holidays she would be at school for one more year. At sixteen and, in three months time seventeen, she should have already left, but she had started secondary school a year late. Her grandmother had died: her father’s mother that was. She had lived with them and Janine had loved her deeply. When she died, Janine had been devastated. If she had passed away peacefully in her sleep, Janine wouldn’t have minded so much. But her grandmother had fallen down the stairs and banged her head. She had never regained consciousness. Worse, Janine felt it was all her fault.

They had been alone in the house. Her parents, Sue and Derek, both vets, had gone out after getting an urgent call from a friend whose horse had a high fever. Janine had been watching T.V. downstairs, whilst her grandmother, who disliked television, had been listening to a play on Radio Four in her room. Then next thing she knew, there was a cry and a crash as her grandmother went tumbling down the stairs. She had before, always called from her doorway if she needed anything, yet Janine had been in her room only about fifteen minutes before the accident and her grandmother had been fine and said that she had not needed anything. Janine assumed that her grandmother had called out and because of the T.V. she hadn’t heard, but what on earth could her grandmother have wanted so desperately that she had decided to go and get it herself?

She could not stop sobbing. For days on end she was hysterical. The doctor, loath to give an eleven-year-old tranquilisers, wasn’t sure what to do. Janine wouldn’t eat; she ran a high temperature then went down with flu. One night, checking on Janine before retiring for the night, her mother found her daughter’s bed empty.

Janine had always been a sensible girl and had been told quite categorically that she was to stay in bed. If she needed anything she was to ring a little brass bell that Sue had left by the side of her bed, for in her weakened state, both emotionally and physically, her mother had a horror of Janine taking a trip down the stairs in the wake of her grandmother. Thinking of her mother-in-law now, Sue concluded that Janine must have gone into the old lady’s room and rushed in there herself, only to find that that too was empty of her daughter’s presence. She then hurried to check her own and her husband’s bedroom and the bathroom, while frantically calling for Derek. Derek searched the kitchen, thinking that Janine might suddenly have felt better and become hungry, dashing in there only to find that this too showed no signs of life except the gentle humming of the fridge/freezer. Going out of the kitchen by a side door into the garage produced nothing either.

They eventually found her in the garden, staring up at the stars as if searching for the soul of her grandmother. Gently they carried her back to bed and sat with her. During the night her fever rose and she became delirious. At two in the morning she was rushed to hospital with pleurisy. It was weeks before she came home. Janine, of course, remembered nothing of this and it was many months before her parents told her what had happened, filling in the gaps in her memory, in the hope that by talking about the past, Janine would remember, but to this day she hadn’t.

In the meantime, her mother, unable to look at the staircase without seeing her mother-in-law lying at the bottom of it, after discussing it with her husband, decided to move. They thought it would be good for Janine - no reminders. They bought a practice in the town fifteen miles away and a house two miles from the practice. When Janine left hospital it was to a completely new environment that she returned.

She hated it. The house was nice but it meant she could not go to the secondary school where all her friends from primary school had gone. The shock of the move and the loss of her friends brought on a bout of pneumonia and she was rushed to hospital again. This time the conventional treatment did not work. The doctor explained to Janine’s parents that she had lost the will to live and only a miracle could save her. In desperation Sue rang her sister Dee who said she would come right away, but that even with a lift to the station, with the trains being what they were in her part of the world that would, at best, be tomorrow. She must, said Dee to her sister, find a homoeopath immediately. Sue found one in the local directory who came in within a couple of hours, assessed the situation, asked a few pertinent questions and put a small white tablet under Janine’s tongue, telling her to leave it to dissolve. He came back in the evening and repeated the dose. Dee arrived the next day, there was no change but at least Janine wasn’t any worse. Dee held Janine’s hand and sat and talked to her. She never left her side. The next day she was a little better and gradually she recovered enough to go home, still frail but on the mend. When she was well enough to travel, she went back to stay with Dee at her farm, where the only noise was the sound of bird song, the lowing of cattle, the country bus and a tractor. She missed a whole year of school.

The memory of that time, or at least the bits that she could recall to mind, always brought a lump to Janine’s throat and she would find herself fighting back the tears. After all these years she was still bothered by the fact that she hadn’t heard her grandmother call out, always assuming that she had called, and still didn’t know what she had wanted. And it was, or would soon be, make-your-mind-up time, when she would have to decide how she would earn her living.

But what on earth was she going to do? She just couldn’t settle on a career. She didn’t want a normal nine to five everyday type of job. She wasn’t stupid but she wasn’t particularly outstanding either - all her grades were average except ancient history, but what could you do with that, except be a museum curator or an archaeologist? She’d investigated both options but curator’s jobs were few and far between, the pay was terrible and you needed a university degree. Janine didn’t think she was bright enough for that. As for getting on an archaeological dig, that was even more remote unless you knew someone who knew someone who could get you in there.

She got up and went to the chest of drawers on top of which resided a Victorian ewer and matching basin. They had scalloped edges painted delicately with gold, and were adorned with pale pink flowers and pale green leaves. It was purely ornamental; no one used them these days, but it was pretty and Janine liked looking at it. She ran her fingers along the raised edges and wondered at the skill of the workmanship. She always appreciated such delicacy. She supposed she could put flowers in the ewer and pot pourri in the basin but she just liked looking at it as it was. She remembered the day she had bought it. She could see the village shop now. It had to be at least four hundred years old, for it was listing so badly that it looked as if it were about to collapse at any moment. The tiny little window was crammed with bric-a-brac and other odds and ends. And there, in the centre, next to a lace shawl it stood. She went in to ask the price, fearing it to be far in excess of the contents of her purse, but in fact the gentleman explained that it was not an original, just a copy and he only wanted fifteen pounds for it. As she cast her mind back, she could see herself now looking in the window at it. She could see herself entering the shop, bowing her head slightly because the doorway was so low, and at the same time trying not to trip over the step that went down into the shop. Yet in her recollection, as she looked down, she was wearing a pale green crinoline dress, and the man in the shop was wearing a winged collar.

She started to feel giddy and fell forward, grabbing onto the edge of the chest of drawers for stability, as a whooshing sound went though her head. Still staggering, she sat down heavily on the bed behind her, letting out an ‘ouff’ sound. What had just happened? Was this what peopled called deja’vu? She had not had this experience before. No wonder people made such a fuss about it; it was really weird. She gave her head a shake. What had she been thinking about? Yes, that was it, the end of term.

She settled back into her thoughts. Like many other children, she was impatient for the ringing of the bell which signalled not only the end of the school day but the end of the school year. Janine couldn’t wait to get out and had literally run all the way home. It wasn’t the schoolwork; she enjoyed quite a few of the lessons and some of the teachers were really nice. No, it was the whole concept of the thing. She struggled to express herself to herself. It was the way some teachers acted as if they were always right. She remembered an incident at school wherein the teacher had given them the wrong capital of a country because it had just changed from one dictatorship to another. Janine was the only one who knew the right answer but the teacher told her she was incorrect and gave full marks to the rest of the class who recited the old capital. The other children made fun of Janine for the rest of the day. In the morning however, the teacher told Janine that she was correct and apologised. Needless to say, no one else was present. Since then Janine had often smiled at the thought of over thirty children in their teens still with the wrong answer!

Her next teacher had been Mr Brown: a little man who looked rather like a large gnome, with a big round lump on his little finger. He had been smashing, but unfortunately good things never seemed to last and after the missed year, she had had to move on to Goldings Secondary School and leave Mr Brown with a fresh set of pupils.

Still reminiscing, she had a quick wash at the vanity basin in her room, pulled a white T-shirt over her head, stepped into a pair of pale blue denim jeans, dragged a brush through her hair and went downstairs.

There was no one around but she knew her aunt was up because she always rose early to milk the small dairy herd she owned. There was also heat coming from the Aga that resided in the big, stone-flagged farmhouse kitchen. She looked around, familiarising herself with it. It had been a year since she had been here, last summer in fact. Christmas holidays were out of the question in this part of the country, as usually there was a heavy fall of snow, so that even the country bus could not get through.

She took in her surroundings. The kitchen was the largest room in the house. The front door opened straight on to it, emphasising its importance she felt, because in the old days, life was lived in the kitchen; it usually being the only warm room. When one walked in, the Aga was on the right, with the dresser on the back wall facing the door. A large scrubbed pine rectangular table took up the centre. The kitchen had a double aspect with windows to the front and right. Standing with one’s back to the front door, the door to the lounge was on the left and the lounge window looked out onto the front. It was small and contained only a two-seater sofa with a matching armchair opposite, covered in a nondescript floral print and separated by a coffee table. The bathroom, a later addition to the house, had been joined on the back, incongruous and out of the way, as if it had been banished for fear it would contaminate the rest of the dwelling.

From the lounge, a pine staircase led up to two bedrooms, both with sloping ceilings. Janine stayed in the smaller one, which looked out to the front of the house and the woodland that stretched into the distance.

Her Aunt Dee wasn’t into modern gimmicks as she called them. The Aga heated the kitchen and did the hot water. There was an open hearth in the lounge for a real log fire in the winter and upstairs a small convector heater for Janine’s room, in case she ever got cold. There was no fridge or freezer, just the larder with marble shelves. Her aunt said that it kept food fresh for at least three days in the hottest of summers and after that, who would want to eat it anyway? The only concession Dee made to a modern way of life was electricity for lighting, a radio and a telephone, essential in a small village where the nearest neighbour was two miles away.

Janine sat down at the scrubbed pine table, still thinking how much she loved this place. Peaceful, quiet, far from the regimen of the school classroom, away from the computers, the technology, the noise, the conformity - but most of all, the conformity. It wasn’t just the teachers and the system she didn’t like - she didn’t