I felt myself shudder physically as the words spilled out. Out of reflex I thumped the heel of my palm against the top of the railing as if the gesture could make it all go away. With a quick snap of my head I exclaimed, “Gods! They always sound so terrified that it…I don’t know…I really can’t describe it…I…I…Dammit!”

“Calm down, Rowan,” Helen instructed. “Take a breath and relax.”

I did as she told me and forced myself to settle. Finally I said, “All I can say is that their terror just fuels mine, and that just makes my panic grow.”

“A natural response.”

“Doesn’t make it any more pleasant…anyway, then, of all things, I start praying. As frightened-and I mean flat out petrified-as I am, I don’t cry like the others. I don’t moan. I don’t whimper…I just start to pray.”

“To whom are you praying?”

I knew exactly why she asked the question. She was fully aware that my personal leanings didn’t fit with the generally accepted concept of prayer. The fact of the matter being very simply that I was a Witch, a card carrying Pagan. I was a practitioner of magick and follower of an alternative religious path commonly known as Wicca. The idea of me praying was about as far left of center as it could get.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. God I guess, believe it or not…Yeah…I know…doesn’t make much sense, does it? Me, a devout Pagan praying to God.”

“It is not as if you do not believe in a duality of Godhead, Rowan. As I understand it, in your path you have both a God and a Goddess.”

“Yeah, but I get the feeling it’s not that God I’m praying to.”

“Perhaps in this nightmare you are not yourself, but rather someone else.”

“I gave that some thought,” I replied.“But, usually in the dreams I’m myself. It’s when I have a waking vision that I actually channel the dead and take on their memories and such.”