The Wiccaed Ring

Author's Notes:

This story is not meant to be a reference guide to the Wicca belief system. I borrowed from it lightly for the benefit of telling this story. I'm not promoting or condemning it. While I did some research into Wicca, I'm fairly certain many could do better. Again, I'm just writing to entertain, not educate. By all means, if you are interested in Wicca, far better information resources are available than this story.

Additionally, if you doubt the possibility that a company owning the patent on a life-saving drug might decide to withhold it for purely financial reasons, look up Glybera.

What is wrong with a society that grants corporations more rights than people?

Greed may be the deadliest of the Seven Sins, after all.

Chapter 1

Jennifer's prey was already three drinks into his party experience, and the night was young. He was watching trust-fund Amazon bimbo Kate Stirling, who was on the dancefloor shaking the big implants her daddy paid for. As her bouncing boobage came close to freeing themselves from her dress, Richard's eyes were firmly locked on target.

This also meant no one but Jennifer was watching him.

Slipping up next to the man, Jennifer set her red plastic cup next to Richard's on the kitchen island's marble top.

Richard lifted his hands to amplify his shout as Jennifer stepped back into the shadows with his cup.

"Kate! Show us your fat tittays!" he bellowed drunkenly.

The tipsy man brayed with laughter at Kate's angry glare, glanced down to pick up the cup before him, and chugged the contents in quick gulps.

Jennifer smiled. Prey tranquilized.

She just needed to track her target now, wait for the roofie to kick in, and separate him from the herd.

As the brunette beauty stalked the boorish turd from the shadows, she moved to the music as if she was in a world of her own. She ignored the frat boys' feeble attempts to engage with her, and each moved on with expressions of contempt or anger. One was unusually persistent, but a disgusted glare finally sent him on his way.

None of that mattered as she was hunting big game.

Richard Madden was the son of Charles Madden, CEO of Madden Pharmaceuticals, Inc. He was being groomed to work in his daddy's empire as he'd take over one day.

Jennifer's coven needed someone on the inside, and Richard would be their inside man.

Her part of the mission was to bring Richard to the coven. They would take the next steps once she delivered him.

She saw the signal when he stood and ambled slowly back toward the kitchen. His steps were hesitant, so she smoothly slipped through the crowd and moved beside him.

Jennifer quickly confirmed eyes weren't aimed their way and slipped her hand around his waist to guide him toward a hallway leading to some bedrooms. They moved at a relaxed pace until they were at the door to the last room. She reached around, opened it, and eased them inside. She relaxed when she saw the room was empty. It was still early in the evening, so the horny frat boys hadn't begun to drag their victims to secluded bedrooms to score.

Richard's eyes were glassy and vacant, and his facial muscles relaxed. She scooped up the black hoodie she'd left on the bed, threw it over his shoulders, and pulled the hood up to hide his face. Then she sat him in a chair. She unzipped her small purse to get her phone to call in the troops.

She froze when she saw her cell wasn't there.

An image flashed into her mind of her phone sitting on her bedside table, plugged into its charger.

Jennifer cursed silently and moved to plan B. She'd already spent too much time in Richard's presence. People might recall seeing them together. She'd have to leave him here while she retrieved her helpers.

Jennifer took another look at Richard and moved to the room's door. She slipped into the empty hall and immediately rushed to the exterior door at the hall's end to slip from the house. The coven members were waiting in a car in the lane behind the frat house. She saw people walking in the neighborhood, so she kept herself to a comfortable but quick walk.

Richard should be safe enough until she returned momentarily.

-=-

One of the party attendees, a certain frat boy burned by a scornful glance, was fuming about Richard Madden's fucking success at capturing the interest of the hot bitch who'd snubbed him. Kevin Tate tossed back the last of his drink and recalled the harsh look on the otherwise perfect features of the brunette he'd been watching since she arrived.

Kevin's family was one of the wealthiest in the state, and he was far better looking and more fit than Richard. His car was better than Richard's, and he dressed better. He'd fucked more sluts than the asshole too!

So why did such a succulent piece of tail lead Richard away toward a bedroom instead of him?

His anger increased, and he pushed himself to his feet to go to the kitchen to get another drink. The more he thought about it, the more unfair it seemed.

He decided to have a few words with Richard when he finished scoring with the slut.

-=-

Kate caught a glimpse of Richard walking away down the hall, and she scowled. He really was a bastard. She'd gone on a date with him the week before, and he got a little rough, ruining her favorite skirt. He'd also broken the gold chain her mother gave her. He owed her money for repairing that.

She pushed away the clingy frat boy on the couch who was trying to feel her boobs and stood up. She swayed slightly as the beer was going to her head. Time to switch to water.

Making her way to the hallway, she spotted someone stepping out of the last bedroom and leaving the house by the side door. Was Richard in there?

Glancing back, no one was watching her, so she quickly wobbled down the hall to the last door and slipped inside. She squeaked as she saw someone sitting in the chair in a black hoodie.

She stepped closer when he made no noise and pushed back the hood.

"You fucker, Richard! You scared me!" she cursed at him as she swayed on her feet.

Still, he made no sounds. She squinted at him. "You owe me money for breaking my chain!"

When his silence continued, she got mad. She grabbed the hoodie and pulled, making him lean forward. She tugged harder and the sweater pulled free as Richard toppled out of the chair to land on his face on the floor.

Kate burst into nervous giggles as Richard was face down and ass up. She tossed the sweater on the bed and leaned down to tug his wallet from his back pocket. Her head swam a little for tilting over, so she stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed. Looking in the wallet, she saw the wad of cash inside, so she stuffed the bills into her bra. She tucked the wallet into the sweater's pocket as she examined Richard.

An idea was forming in her beer-addled brain. Richard was totally smashed. She could do anything with him. She giggled nervously again as her sorority sisters had said some angry things about Richard. They'd told her to avoid him, and she'd still gone on a date with the man. As they'd warned her, he'd acted like a brute, tore her clothes, gave her some bruises, and broke her chain.

Kate stood and pulled Richard to his feet before she could talk herself out of it. She was a head taller than him, and he wasn't very stable, so she wrapped an arm around the man. She guided him out into the hall and pulled the door closed before walking him out the side door. She had to keep a tight grip on him, and her own stability wasn't the best, so they wobbled along the path, but she got him to her car and inside.

The drive to the sorority house took only minutes, but she parked at the back and walked Richard's drunk ass into the building.

When she reached the large living room, eight of her house sisters were having a meeting. Faces turned in her direction, and most expressions held barely restrained rage and shock when they saw who she was clinging to.

The two most senior members, Jillian and Audry, held up their hands to quiet the group as they rose to their feet and approached Kate cautiously. They stopped before her and carefully examined Richard's face.

"What happened to him, Kate?" Jillian asked.

Kate nodded to her. "I think..." She looked closer at his zombie expression, and an idea trickled into her drunk brain. "I think someone slipped him a roofie at the Frat Party."

The ladies behind them snorted in surprise and amusement.

Audry checked Richard's pupil reaction, and she glanced over at Jillian. "Was it you?"

Kate shook her head. "I just borrowed him from the party, but no one saw us leave."

"Let's take this discussion downstairs," Jillian suggested as she glanced at Audry.

The ladies behind them immediately jumped to their feet and assisted Kate in walking Richard down the stairs into their private ceremony room.

Jillian turned to Audry. "Collect Richard's victims as quickly and quietly as you can. This must be over in one hour, so we'll have time to do a cleanse."

Audry nodded and rushed up to her office to make some calls.

They were having their own party tonight.

Chapter 2

James had never been to a party.

In his nineteen years, he'd never received a birthday party invitation, attended a school dance or a house party, or been asked to participate in a wedding reception.

Now, in his first year of college, he'd been invited to a Frat party for new students.

He knew what a party was, and from what he understood, a Frat party was the penultimate level for his age category. He was more than a little nervous about jumping into the deep end on his first try.

There was also the fact that he wasn't joining the fraternity, but the guy from his class who told him about it assured him it was an open party and everyone was welcome. The guy had been a little insistent.

James took slow, deep breaths as he walked through the heavily treed neighborhood.

When he left home to attend college, his grandpa told him he'd need to be prepared to step outside his comfort zone.

He'd discovered that everything here was outside that zone, but he was trying.

In the month since his arrival at the college, he realized the three years he'd spent in the rural high school, after many years of being home-schooled, hadn't prepared him for life amongst a far more worldly student populace. Their ease with relating to the trappings of the new social matrix made him feel like an artifact from days gone by. He was floundering as he tried to fit in.

Going to tonight's party was a bold step into the unknown for him.

He knew his grandpa would be proud.

He glanced down at himself to quickly assess his look. He didn't know the proper attire for this kind of party, but casual seemed to be the rule at college. He wore his good jeans and a button-down black shirt, as dark colors seemed appropriate.

He was physically fit and handsome (so the ladies at his grandparent's assisted living home informed him), and his brown hair was neatly brushed. He was as prepared as he'd ever be.

James left the sidewalk to cross the expansive lawn toward the large home just ahead.

A fist came out of the darkness, smashing into his left cheekbone, catching him completely by surprise.

The sucker punch sent a shockwave through his head and left him dazed. His leg muscles lost tone, and he went down onto his knees.

That's when a second fist swung in from the opposite side and struck him viciously on his right cheek, a ring carving a deep scratch into his skin.

He felt his face strike the lawn then hands grabbed his arms to haul him back to his knees. Two people pulled him up, and a third hit his face with a flurry of punches.

Then, they switched to allow the others to take turns.

James' head filled with flashes of light and pain. He was thrown to the lawn face down once more, and his consciousness faded in and out as he remained there, struggling to breathe.

A foot caught him in the side, and the air left his lungs. Several more kicks landed until he was retching onto the grass, curled up.

"Michael! Fuck! Enough! Don't kill him!"

He felt someone tug his wallet from his back pocket.

His mind was trying to pull away from the assault, but he never went completely out. Voices and heavy breathing echoed oddly in his ears from his prone position on the lawn.

"Where's Richard? This was his fucking idea!"

"How the fuck should I know? He was supposed to be here."

A buzzing in his head blocked out the voices for a moment.

"Derek, get his arm. We'll stash him at the party," one of his assailants said close to his ear.

They dragged him closer to the house and then suddenly ducked down, pushing James against the ground painfully. He faded for a moment, then was lifted once more and dragged.

"Who was that?" a voice harshly whispered. The buzzing in James' head came in waves, blotting out all other sounds.

"Couldn't see clearly... drunks leaning on each other."

"Fucking pussies... handle their drink... still early!"

Concrete steps struck shin bones, and more pain flared as James was dragged into a side door.

James heard laughter, loud music, and raucous shouting ahead.

"In here!"

He was roughly pulled into a room, and a door closed, blocking most of the party noise.

"Shit! Lewis! His face... your fucking ring... bleeding," someone asserted with great tension in their voice.

"Get the hoodie from the bed and put it on him to hide his face!"

James felt his painful muscles squeezed again as his arms were forced into the sleeves of a sweater, and the hood was pulled over his head to disguise him. He was shoved onto a chair.

"Let's go find Richard," one said urgently.

"Fine," another responded then the door opened and closed again.

The room was mostly silent, but James couldn't move as the pain was making itself known.

After what felt like only seconds, the party noises swelled again as the door opened.

"He's in there," a feminine voice said from the hall. "It was a strong roofie."

James felt big hands grab his arms again, and his head dipped forward, shadowing his face in the hood.

"Good luck," the voice said as the others efficiently but roughly dragged him out the side door.

When he was dumped into the trunk of a car, James' head struck something hard, and he finally slipped under where the pain couldn't follow.

-=-

Shivering, James surfaced once more.

With awareness came pain.

He wished he could return to the dark place, but his mind wouldn't let him.

Then he heard the music. It was beautiful, like an angelic chorus. He wanted to hear more, and the sound became smoother and deepened as he soaked it in.

Someone... was touching him in a private place—then words were spoken, drowning out all other sounds. They felt like they were trying to burn themselves into his mind. The burning suddenly stopped as a cool sensation splashed over his nerves, and he faded momentarily.

His next realization was that he was shivering again, and his pain returned.

With it, his muscle tone returned slowly as he tested his control over his body. He slowly and painfully pushed himself to a seated position. Everything was dark, and his face felt hot, tight, and painful. He tried to see his surroundings, but his face was so swollen his eyes were mere slits.

He could see a sparkling light in the distance. A house's porchlight, maybe?

Pushing himself to his feet, he wrapped his arms around himself as he discovered he was naked. He set that aside and staggered toward the light. He bumped into a tree trunk and adjusted his course as he slowly shuffled through what soon felt like a forest.

When he felt smooth asphalt under his bare feet, he turned left and started walking along the edge of the paving. He didn't want to get hit by a car.

He lost track of how long he walked, but the moment red and blue light began to pulse as a vehicle drew closer, his strength ran out, and he sank to his knees, then slowly fell back and to the side, hitting gravel.

James sank into the darkness once again.

This wasn't how his first party was supposed to end.

Chapter 3

High Priestess Katherine Collinsworth faced her coven as they waited in the woods where they performed their ceremonies. Eight ladies were warming their vocal cords with some quiet practice chanting. Two more members would arrive shortly with their special guest. The remaining coven member, Jennifer Young, would sit out tonight's activities to provide herself with an alibi.

Katherine was intensely proud of the women gathered before her. They came from distinctly different backgrounds, but they'd bonded like no other group she'd led before.

As her group found its members from the university's student body, she knew they would only be with her for a few short years as they pursued their academic careers. However, that was fine with her as she considered her coven to be an introduction to the practice. If her members chose to continue once they graduated, she would help them find another coven wherever they went.

Tonight's ceremony was something special. They'd never attempted anything so profound before. The opportunity to change the world for the better in a significant way had presented itself, and they couldn't turn away from this responsibility. All had voluntarily joined tonight's event.

Her mind took her back to the day a young man entered her antiques shop with a steamer trunk he claimed to have found in his basement. She'd watched him arrive in a renovation company van on her shop's surveillance system and was aware of the old mansion being worked on by his company several blocks away. The basement he'd found it in was likely from that building, but she'd play along.

When he'd opened the trunk, she maintained a bored expression as she examined the ancient artifacts. These were museum pieces and, as such, were priceless. She'd raised a brow and stared at the nervous man. Before his nerve broke, she more closely examined the items and spotted a caption card with the National Museum of Iraq symbol printed on it. She'd read about the museum being raided twenty years earlier during a war. She sighed and offered him five hundred. The worker immediately accepted, took the cash, and quickly left. She locked the door and prepared to review the contents in more detail.

Before she'd moved to New Haven, Connecticut, to open her little antique shop, she'd earned a degree in anthropology and published two books on ancient civilization and theology. She'd traveled the world and worked in several renowned museums, researching, categorizing, and documenting ancient artifacts much like the ones before her. She recognized some of the items were likely Mesopotamian from five hundred BC.

After she'd removed all the items from the trunk and inventoried them, she'd discovered a hidden compartment in the bottom of the chest. Inside was a flat and square stone box covered in writing. It was roughly five inches along each side and three inches deep. When she lifted the lid off, she discovered a ring inside. Its inside diameter was approximately an inch, and the band was just under half an inch wide. When she'd moved her gloved hands over it, she'd felt a distinct pull of magic.

She yanked her hand back as she stared at the ring in shock. In all her years of being a Wiccan, she'd never experienced magic this strongly.

She'd been taken by a sudden and uncharacteristic impulse to keep the artifact. It went into her office safe before she contacted a former colleague at the American Museum of Natural History in New York. They would return the stolen items to their rightful owners... or not.

A day later, they came, collected the trunk, and reimbursed her for the sale. That was welcome.

She'd spent weeks researching the stone box and deciphering the cuneiform writing on the lid. The words on the box indicated the ring was cursed. It would enslave the wearer, making the one who placed the ring on them their master.