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    Raven Maid: Out of the Darkness
    Raven Maid: Out of the Darkness
    Raven Maid: Out of the Darkness
    Ebook198 pages3 hours

    Raven Maid: Out of the Darkness

    By Erik Schubach

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    About this ebook

    Adelaide Oliver, raised in the bayou in New Orleans, flees the Big Easy to Seattle when she believes she is seeing things and losing her mind.

    What she doesn't realize is that she is a Raven Maid, a secret of the Voodoo, Vodoun faith.

    She walks the path between this world and the next, guiding lost souls to their final destination, whether that be the wayward spirit's idea of heaven or hell.

    But what happens when a soul doesn't wish to leave the mortal realm?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherErik Schubach
    Release dateApr 22, 2017
    ISBN9780998511047
    Raven Maid: Out of the Darkness
    Author

    Erik Schubach

    I got my start writing romance novels by accident. I have always been drawn to strong female characters in books, like Honor Harrington. And I also believe that there is a lack of LGBT characters in media. So one day I came up with a story idea that combines the two... two days later I completed the manuscript for Music of the Soul.My writing style may not be the most professional nor grammatically correct, but I never profess to be an English major, just a person that wants to share a story. I maintain that my primary language is sarcasm.Each of my books features strong likeable female characters that are flawed. I think that flaws and emotional or physical scars make us human and give us more character than simply conforming to some "social norm".I have also started a SciFi series, The Valkyrie Chronicles which features a Valkyrie, Kara, who was left behind on Earth five thousand years ago to help the Asgard race escape the onslaught of the Ragnarok horde. With the aid of a human, Kate, she holds the line in battle to herald the return of the Asgard!If you like magic, paranormal romance and witches, then my new series Fracture might tickle your fancy. In the first book Fracture: Divergence, Alex King must stop magic from destroying reality. The problem is that Alex must solve the case in parallel universes where in one Alex is male and female in the other.There is even a modern shapeshifter paranormal series, Drakon. Featuring a fiery Irish woman with a sharp wit and sharper temper who finds out she is a dragon of legend.

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      Book preview

      Raven Maid - Erik Schubach

      Copyright © 2017 by Erik Schubach

      Published by Erik Schubach on Smashwords

      P.O. Box 523

      Nine Mile Falls, WA 99026

      Cover Photo © 2017 Branislav Ostojic / Dreamstime.com license

      ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties.  Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, blog, or broadcast.

      This is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

      Manufactured in the United States of America

      FIRST EDITION

      ISBN 978-0-9985110-4-7

      Chapter 1 – Culture Shock

      I suddenly felt like a muskrat staring down a gator's maw as I whispered to myself, Soc Au' Lait.  I was drowning in yuppies.  A New Orleans girl like me was out of place here in Seattle.  I wouldn't have been there if it weren't for the medical scholarship I was awarded at the University of Washington School of Medicine, and the fact that I just had to get as far away from the Crescent City.

      I still don't remember applying for the Risner Scholarship, but I had filled out countless scholarship applications in my need to get out of New Orleans after I completed my pre-med at UNO.  Odd things had started happening there.  From what I could find, I was the first person to have been awarded this particular scholarship.

      I looked around the coffee shop, one of the seemingly thousand Starbucks that pretty much ringed the campus, keeping us students in a cage of caffeine and wifi.  I chuckled since that was why I was there too, the free wifi.  I had just finished my student orientation and wanted to go through all of the copious amounts of material they had heaped upon me before classes started on Monday.

      I stared at the scone I hadn't taken more than a bite from, wondering what self-respecting establishment didn't serve beignets.  How I already missed those hot fried pastries.  I closed my eyes and imagined the powdered sugar confections I practically mainlined back home.  Here, it seemed, everyone mainlined something that vaguely tasted like coffee under all the fancy preparations.  Black was the only way to drink it and properly appreciate it.

      Get with the program Adelaide, this is gonna be your home the next four years or more.  I exhaled and looked at my iPad.  I needed to get a cell phone, my stipend for living expenses included in the scholarship had looked extremely generous until I learned the realities of the astronomical cost of living in Seattle.

      I don't know how the other students do it.  I wouldn't be able to get a side job if actual med school was any more hectic than pre-med was.  I was just happy I had my own place, sort of, or I'd have to share a place with a couple roommates at the very least, just to afford rent.

      I typed up a quick email to MawMaw to let her know I survived the preliminaries and was fixin' to settle in at the place I found to stay.

      I looked up to a familiar face when a shadow crossed my table.  It was the woman the University had given me a tour of campus, Shannon Kingston.  She smiled at me, holding one of those paper cups which likely held some over-sweetened, frothed milk concoction that smelled passingly like coffee.

      The honey haired twenty something gave me that same welcoming smile she had when they called her into the admissions office to show me around.  It was striking then, and it hadn't lost any of its genuine charm this time around.  

      Hi Adelaide, I see you've already found a fueling stop.  You'll be seeing the coffee houses as your second home once classes begin.  You'll have to have more coffee than blood in your veins, just to keep up.

      She made a motion with her cup toward the table, and I rolled a hand palm up, accepting her request to join me, uttering a genuine, Please.

      She slid into the chair across from me, I tried not to look at the capris jeans which were almost painted onto her shapely legs.

      I quipped with a grin, That frou-frou stuff can't really be qualified as coffee.  You know that right?

      She chuckled and took the lid off her cup with a cute, crooked grin on her face as she slid it toward me.  I cocked an eyebrow appreciatively, there was actual coffee in it.  I asked, Black?

      She nodded then slid it back to herself, closed her dark brown eyes, and inhaled the steam deeply.  She shuddered like a junky getting her fix.  It was pure pleasure on her face, and I had to blink then look away with a grin.  I probably looked the same when I really needed a good cuppa.

      I hit send on my email app and looked back up to her.  She seemed amused about something as she sipped at her coffee.  Her tight pink tank top was a little distracting to me.  These Seattle girls certainly dressed differently than us down in the bayou, not that it was a bad thing.  I pushed my scone an inch toward her.  Scone-ish type thing?

      She shook her head and quipped, Too frou-frou for me.  Thanks though.

      I cocked an eyebrow in amusement at her firing my words back at me. Nice.

      She took another sip, watching me over the rim of her cup.  I try.

      Then she added, I keep catching a slight bit of an accent.  Where are you from?  We didn't get a chance to talk much.  What with the whirlwind tour and all.  There was too much to cover in too short of time.

      I shrugged. You're probably picking up on Cajun, a little French thrown in for good measure.  All mixed up in a slurry.

      She nodded, and her grin grew. Ahhh... New Orleans?

      I cringed.  Back home I'd have called her a tourist and sent her to Bourbon Street where the rest of her touristy kind tend to congregate.  But this was her city, so I went for tact as I shook my head sadly.  It isn't New Or-Leens.  Orleans has three syllables.  Pronounced Or-lee-uns.  It never rhymes with jeans.

      She pursed her lips, trying not to smile.  I grinned sheepishly at her. What?  It's important, it's my home.  Well, was my home.

      She held up her coffee cup in a toast, and I held mine up, and she prompted, Home.

      I repeated, then furrowed my brow as I pushed back my obstinate curls which kept flopping forward.  The lack of humidity here has already made itself especially evident with my hair.  You're not a Seattle native?  Where's home for you?

      She settled back in her chair and said, New York.  Two syllables, just like it's spelled.

      I had to smile at her.  Smart ass.

      She saluted with her coffee and immediately shot back. Guilty as charged.  

      God, why do the playful straight girls have to be so damn cute?

      I took the time to decompress and relax and chat with Shannon.  I hadn't realized how tense I had become over the past few months and how much that was weighing down upon me.  I had been thinking that I had been slowly going mad back home, seeing things that were not possible, experiencing some odd things.  I just had to get out of there.

      My hand absently went up to rub the back of my neck as I pushed all of the emotional weight it all aside, and reveled in just being a normal girl in a new city.  I almost yanked my hand away when it came into contact with my hair, remembering the drunken dream I had the night before had I started the long drive to Seattle.

      I hesitantly paused then touched the long loose curls of my hair and exhaled loudly.  It was just hair.  I smiled and realized that Shannon was staring at me.  She must think me mad.  I shrugged looking sheepish and lied, I thought there was something in my hair.  There wasn't.

      She tilted her head and grinned. I love your curls, it must take forever to do that.  I wish my hair would take a curl like that.

      I cocked my head and looked at her incredulously. They're natural.  I can't get my hair to behave here in Seattle with the dry air here, it is driving me crazy.  They are usually much tighter and easier to control.

      She gave a silly look. One... I hate you, that's just unfair, I'd kill for curls like that.  And two, dry?  This is Seattle you know.  Rain like every other day.

      I quipped back, having fun with our discussion though she had no clue what she was talking about.  My hair has always been the bane of my existence, but now it didn't do what I wanted it to. Rain and humidity are two separate things, lady.  People walk to class here, back home you swam through the air to get anywhere.

      She sat back in her chair and shook her head. You say that almost fondly, isn't constant humidity sort of... I don't know, oppressive?

      I shrugged and started to feel a little homesick as I explained. Sort of, but to me, it is just, well it is just home.

      She chuckled at that and inclined her head in acceptance of what I was trying to convey.  I can understand that, but I personally like air I can breathe without gills.

      As I was shooting back, You're from new York, is the air even brea... there was a horrendous squealing of tires and a crunching sound outside.

      We got up with almost everyone else in the coffeehouse and went to the windows to see a man getting out of his truck and running to another man laying on the street in front of the truck, next to a mangled motorcycle.

      I heard multiple people including Shannon dialing 911, and saw others with no tact whatsoever recording the accident with their phones.  Someone was hurt, and they were treating it like entertainment.  What is happening to our world?

      I looked back to the accident and froze.  No, not here too.  I closed my eyes tightly wishing the scene to change.  I opened them again and bit back a curse.  There, standing on the street corner, watching the truck driver who looked to be checking the pulse of the motorcyclist, was a man dressed in identical black and purple leathers as the man who looked not to be breathing on the ground.

      The man looked so confused as he looked down at his hands and then his doppelganger laying in the street.  I felt the rustling along my hairline, and it knocked me out of the panic that was squeezing me in its vice-like grip, causing my hands to feel as if they were freezing and my heart to beat painfully fast.

      I was.  I was mad, wasn't I?  It was the same man.  I knew it even though I couldn't see the face of the man laying in the street.

      It was the same as what happened back in the cemeteries I lived next to just above the French Quarter back home.  I saw a woman I thought to be the twin of one they were having an open procession for through the gates of the cemetery.  I believed that right up until she started crying, biting her fist then running off in terror.  Straight through the crypts and tombs, like a spirit.

      That was the first time.  And I realized over time that nobody was seeing the crowds of people I saw in the cemeteries, even after hours.

      All of these wraiths seemed to call out to me, and I had an urge to go to them, to do something.  Though I had no clue what use I could be to them, even if they were real.  My episodes had just started happening a few months ago, and it has been scaring me.  I don't want to believe that my sanity is slipping, nobody does now do they?  I thought it was just the stress of pre-med.

      I got out.  I thought that by starting fresh in a new city, I'd be ok.  But maybe I needed professional help because heaven help me, I was drawn to this specter, and I didn’t know why.  And it wasn't in a helpful manner this time, this man is... well was... I just have the feeling he was stained with something that corrupted his core.

      I felt my hair rustle again.  I reached up hesitantly to feel the soft black downy feathers sprouting under the unruly curls. The same feathers I've imagined in my drunken stupors when I tried to drink away the visions.

      I swallowed hard.  The pull was getting stronger, I knew I had to do something, but I didn't know what.  Then I was pulled out of it when someone laid a hand on my arm.  

      Shannon asked, Adelaide?  Are you ok, you went pale as a...  She stopped and gasped when she followed my gaze.

      She moved her hand from my arm to cover her mouth then narrowed her eyes and started looking around, scanning the street before looking at her hand then my arm.  Had she... had she, seen?  Did she see the man standing over his own corpse like I had when she was touching me?

      I panicked as she started to reach for me again as she watched the paramedics arriving on the scene.  I pulled back from her and said hoarsely, I have to go.

      Then without looking back, I made my way quickly out of the Starbucks.  Shannon trailing behind asking, Wait, did I see...

      I spun on her and almost hissed in desperation, Nothing, you saw nothing.  I have to go.  I ignored her as I got into my old rust bucket of a green Geo Metro.  I started it, the fold up tow bar in the front rattling as the car vibrated, and pulled out of the parking lot quickly, leaving a little rubber behind.  I headed north to my new home for the next few years of my life as I tried to get my breathing under control.

      I watched Shannon in my rear view mirror as she just watched me go, looking as confused as I felt.  Had she really seen what I had?  Or was it wishful thinking.  It meant that if she did, then I wasn't going crazy and that... was it worse if I wasn't?  It would mean that what I have been experiencing is real.

      I quickly ran my fingers through my hair, feeling for the feathers I swear were there a minute ago, just to find nothing but hair and scalp.  My hands were shaking.  Lord, I needed a stiff drink.

      I got my breathing under control I concentrated on driving the speed limit back to my oh so luxury living quarters at the University Trailer Park.  I was breathing normal and didn't feel the chill of shock anymore by the time I turned into the urban trailer park and pulled up to my old, beat to shit, 1973 Winnebago Indian motorhome.

      The difference between this trailer park and the one I lived in back home the French Quarter RV Resort was that this one wasn't just an old parking lot converted into a trailer park. I still had to snort at the Resort part of its name. This one had actual trees separating it from the rest of the neighborhood.

      That's something I noticed about Seattle.  It seems that trees and wild blackberry bushes have seemed to fill in any place that isn't covered in concrete or asphalt.  It felt almost organic to me, like how New Orleans sort of melts into the bayou on the fringes which weren't lined by Lake Pontchartrain on the north.

      It

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