“I’m taking a long bubble bath and then…” I paused. I loved having sex with Killian, but tonight I felt too tired, yet wired at the same time. I kept glancing over at Great-Grandma’s book of shadows. “I kind of just want to read her diary, if you don’t mind. It’s been a long day.”
Killian sighed, but it sounded like a sigh of relief. “Not a problem. I’m actually beat, too. Do you mind if I spend the night at my house? I want to do some laundry and I’ve got a bunch of email to answer and—”
I laughed, serving myself another helping of lasagna. “It’s okay. We don’t have to spend every moment together—really. I love our time together. I really like being with you. But we’re not glued at the hip, and we don’t have to do everything together. Life would be boring if all we wanted to do were the same things. I’m not a clingy woman.”
He smiled then, broad and wide, and it made me rethink whether I was too tired for sex, but once again, I felt weary so I shook my head, beaming at him, and we finished our dinner in comfortable silence.
* * *
After Killian helped me rinse the dishes and stack them in the dishwasher, he again made certain the attic was closed up before he headed home. I watched him go, grateful that he had moved in next door. I not only enjoyed dating him, but I liked having him for a friend.
I shrugged into a jacket and headed out to my backyard. As usual, the Mystic Wood was lit up like a tree on fire—or a hundred trees on fire. The golden-green aura of the magical woodland was brilliant tonight. Not everyone could see it, but most of us who were witchblood could.
I slowly crossed the lawn to where I was standing about twenty yards from the tree line. I scanned the border where my property met the forest, looking for anything that might be lurking in the shadows. There was some sort of imp in there—her name was Rebecca, or rather, that’s the name she had given me when I was a child and she tried to lure me away from my mother. I had seen her once since I had been back in Moonshadow Bay, but I had promised that if she left me alone, I’d leave her alone. I didn’t like that she was in the wood, but I had the feeling I could do more damage to her at this point than she could to me.
I stared up at the tops of the trees. They were budding out, the green tips swelling. Soon they’d burgeon out into leaves, and the conifers would be interspersed with the spring green of birch and alder and cottonwood leaves. My yard was fenced, half an acre that was surrounded by trees on both sides and the Mystic Wood at the back. The trees that bordered the fencing on either side of the house and yard included two massive cedar trees and a number of fir, one sequoia that jutted its way far into the sky, and a weeping sequoia that reminded me of some lurching long-haired creature from out of an enchanted fairytale. I also had a number of rowan and lilac trees, a holly tree, and several maple trees. They, too, were budding, and I looked forward to the heady scent of lilacs in two or three months.
All in all, the yard was beautiful and the house well-kept, and the only thing that kept me from truly loving it was that I now owned it, which meant my parents were dead. But I wasn’t about to sell it to some stranger who might cut down my mother’s row of hydrangeas that lined the right side of the house, or who might sell to a developer who would parcel it out into tiny lots with mega-mansions on it. We were lucky in Moonshadow Bay, because there were some strict ordinances in place to ensure that developers wouldn’t tear the town to pieces in search of the holy grail filled with dollars. So throughout the years, the town’s quirky charm remained intact.
As I stood by the edge of the wood, I felt a gentle pulse from the pentacle I wore around my neck. It had a faceted obsidian cabochon in the center, and it had belonged to my mother. I wore it because it felt right, and because Esmara had told me to. I reached up and closed my hand around it, shutting my eyes, feeling the chill breeze sweep over me. I could smell the bay on the wind—the scent of seaweed and salt, of brine and decay. Even here, the incoming tides brought the smell of the Salish Sea inland, and seagulls flew overhead, a constant in the town, singing their melancholy songs.
I crouched, pressing my hands to the ground, feeling the slow beat of the earth through my fingers. I had recently found out that my aunt had pledged me to Druantia, an earth goddess, when I was little. She had done so in order to protect me from the shadow man who tried to steal away my life while I was in her care. In a recent meditation, Druantia had offered me the chance to break that pledge if I wanted, but I let it stand. I wasn’t sure what being pledged to her meant, but the connection felt right. She was part of the earth’s heartbeat, and through her, I felt linked to the natural world around me.
I listened to the astral breeze as the wind ruffled my hair. I had swept it back into a long ponytail, but several strands had escaped and were tickling my face and my neck.
And then, I heard it—what I had been waiting for. The soft chatter of the crocus, the low tones of trees talking together as they woke from their slumber, and the murmur of those who watched during the winter—tall sentinels who watched over the woodland. The swish of a huckleberry bush caught my attention, and I knew that a fox had run through the boughs. And there, barely within the tree line, the soft slithering of a garden snake—early in the year, but slowly waking to summer. There was a world of activity going on around me, a world that most people never paid attention to or even noticed.
I narrowed my focus, tuning into the massive entity that made up the heart of the Mystic Wood. It was crafty and devious, beautiful and bewitching, enchanting and dangerous, and yet…there was nothing evil about the woodland. But still, the wood was a deadly place for the unwary.
We’re waiting…
I froze, watching, but still nothing moved, and finally I backed away until I was halfway up the lawn. Then I turned and jogged toward the house. Whoever had been talking to me hadn’t been Esmara, that much I knew. And it hadn’t been Druantia. No, whoever had whispered those words lived deep inside the forest and right now, I didn’t want to meet them.
Back inside, I locked the door and leaned back against it, my stomach in knots. I reached for the light switch and turned the kitchen lights fully up. The energy had spooked me more than I had expected it to. As I calmed down, I started to move away from the door when a loud thump against it sent me spinning around. As I watched, the handle of the door turned, but the door was locked. It jiggled once more as I stared at it, then I heard something sliding across the porch. I was considering turning on the porch light and looking outside, but the thought of what might happen stopped me.
I waited for a moment, then—as the sounds vanished—I cautiously edged up to the door window and peeked out. In the darkness, there was nothing that I could see. I bit my lip and flipped on the porch light, but all I could see was a trail of mud on the porch floor. It wasn’t even muddy footprints, just a slick of mud from the screen door to the back door. I waited for a couple minutes and then shut off the porch light again, double-checking the lock.
What was that? I asked, hoping Esmara could hear me.
I’m not certain, but you’ve attracted the attention of the forest. I don’t sense danger…per se…or rather—evil. Everything in the Mystic Wood can be dangerous.
Am I safe?
Are we ever safe? But yes, child, you’re as safe as you can be, for living on the edge of a magical wood.
With that thought, I considered reading some of my great-grandmother’s journal before bed, but I was suddenly so tired that even the thought of it seemed overwhelming. I checked the doors downstairs, made sure the range and oven were off, and slowly trudged up the stairs to take a shower with Xi and Klaus right outside. After a long soak under the steaming water, I curled up in bed, turned on the TV, and with both kittens snuggled against me, I fell asleep to reruns of Frasier.
* * *
Sunday dawned clear and cool. For Western Washington, “clear” meant partially cloudy but with sun peeking through. We had very few cloud-free days per year—about sixty of them, from what I had read.
For the most part, a “clear day” meant that we saw several sunbreaks throughout the day.
I had slept restlessly, with vague dreams of creatures hiding in the dark, waiting for me as I wandered through a dark woodland. Relieved to be awake, I dressed in capri pants and a pinup top with ruched sides and a sweetheart neckline. At a size 14 going on 16, I had an hourglass figure and plenty of padding. I liked my curves, though, and finally I was free from toxic people in my life trying to shame me for my size.
I was also five-nine, tall for most women, but I didn’t give a damn—I wore high heels whenever I wanted to. My hair was long and—currently red—it cascaded down my back in waves. Ari had dyed it burgundy with a gloss of violet for my birthday, and I loved it so much I decided to keep the color for a while. The color set off my eyes, which were hazel.
I slipped on a pair of ballerina flats and headed downstairs, only to find that somehow Xi and Klaus had managed to open the cupboard where I kept the dry cat food, and they had chewed through the bag. Kibble was scattered all over the kitchen, the bag was slumped over like a soldier who had fought valiantly to the end, and both kittens stared at me with wide, innocent eyes.
“Oh, don’t give me that look,” I said. “I know you did it.”
Xi squeaked and grabbed another kibble, chewing on it. Klaus sat down, staring at the food like he wanted to dive in again but wasn’t sure whether I was going to scold him. I tried not to laugh as I found the dustpan and whiskbroom and swept up the mess. Then I filled their dishes and opened a can of gooshy food for them, and before they could dive in, I scooped them up for a cuddle and a kiss on the head. Klaus, eyeing the food, wriggled out of my arms and lightly jumped down to the floor.
But Xi looked into my eyes and I fell into her gaze, my heart melting. She was growing into my familiar, and while I loved animals, I hadn’t realized just how strong of a bond could form, or how quickly it could form. While Klaus wore his emotions on his paw, Xi I could feel in the core of my being.
“Yeah, you’re a little spitfire, you are,” I whispered as she gently batted my nose. “Go eat, you little goober.”
I fixed myself a mocha and, glancing in the fridge, decided to have a sandwich for breakfast. I slapped together French bread, turkey breast, lettuce, tomato, and butter, and carried it over to the table where I sat down and took a bite of the sandwich. Then, like someone who had put off paying the bills too long, I gingerly reached for Colleen’s book of shadows. Taking a deep breath, I dove in, turning back the hands of time as I began to explore the past.
Colleen’s Book of Shadows
Entry: May 7, 1915
The ley lines are strong in this land, they cross over the town in a number of positions and they make everyone’s magic so much more powerful. The forest itself is alive, and filled with dreadful and wondrous creatures. We never expected, when we founded Moonshadow Bay, for the town to come alive so quickly.
The natives won’t come here—they warned us off. They’re friendly to us, unlike a number of the settlers around here, because we respect them and their customs. Johnny Salmon-Diver made a special trip here to talk to Brian and me, since we were the ones who first established Moonshadow Bay.
While he acknowledged our magic might be able to keep some of the chaos out, he warned that this particular area of the bay is considered off limits to the Nooksack tribe because it belongs to the “others.” We asked if there was a way we could cleanse the land and he said no—the “old ones” have lived here so long that they’ve left an indelible marker on the area. When we asked him to clarify who he was talking about, he refused to speak more of them, saying only that it attracted their attention when their names were used or people discussed them.
Johnny said that he wouldn’t be able to come again because his tribe didn’t want him to bring home any attachments—spirits are known to do that, of course. And apparently, around here, not only do spirits of the dead frequent the area, but other entities. When I asked him to what he was referring, Johnny would only say that here, the “others” were dangerous and bewitching, and to avoid the woods at night, and never let children near the Mystic Wood unattended.
I sat back, staring at the passage. So, even before the town had been founded, the Native Americans had known about the woodland. I pushed back the book, thinking. Maybe it wasn’t chance that had drawn my great-grandparents to Moonshadow Bay. Maybe it was fate.
I believed in fate, to a degree. I didn’t believe everything was preordained—predestination didn’t allow for free will and above all, I believed that we could change the outcome of almost any situation. Oh, everyone died, and if we didn’t pay our taxes we’d eventually end up in jail, but other than that—there was usually a choice.
While I did believe certain things were slated to happen and that we were sometimes born to a path in life, that didn’t mean that every step, every movement, every choice was already set before us. I didn’t believe in perfection, and life wouldn’t be a challenge if we had no choices. If people didn’t believe they had some sort of control over the outcome of their lives, it would strip away the desire to strive and succeed.
I shrugged, and glanced over the next few entries. There were several recipes for spells and rituals to be done by moonlight, or during the afternoon—even one to do at seven a.m. on a Saturday morning to invoke clarity. Great-Grandma Colleen had been detailed when it came to her magic. I randomly flipped to another passage. By then, my great-grandparents had three children, and Moonshadow Bay had been in existence twelve years.
Colleen’s Book of Shadows
Entry: December 15, 1918
Well, life moves along. I’m exhausted. Who knew how tiring raising children can be? I love them, and I love my family, but the wee ones are enough to tax the strongest of hearts and souls, and with a babe still in diapers, and a five-year-old and a three-year-old, I’m run ragged. Brian suggested I find a nursemaid, and so I plan on it. I’ll put an advert in the Moonshadow Bay Monitor tomorrow.
The town may be small, but there are plenty of young women looking for work, especially among the shifter clans. They betroth their girls young, so there’s no need for the women to spend time on husband-finding. And shifters are long-lived, so there are several candidates among the wolf-shifter Packs who are looking for something to occupy their time until they get married.
I went into the Mystic Wood the other day and much to my chagrin, I discovered a turnstone. I hadn’t expected to find such a thing here—I thought it was native to my beloved England. Or Ireland, rather—given I’m an Irish lass by blood. I do miss my childhood home, but I even miss England. But Brian wanted to emigrate and true enough, our fortunes have grown multi-fold since we moved here. He has founded his legal practice and is the leading barrister in the town. Lawyer, they call it here. Anyway, I digress.
So yes, I found a turnstone, and that worries me. That means the Woodlings have found their way across the ocean. Or perhaps they’ve always been here? Per chance they’re found worldwide, by differing names? But I know for sure they are settled in the Mystic Wood, and who knows how many they have swept away?
I plan on bringing this up at the next Witches’ Council, but I’m sure that Rowan Firesong will try to waylay my worries and act as though nothing is the matter. I’m not sure why she seems to dislike me. She definitely does her best to ingratiate herself with Brian. I’m grateful I trust him, but she is pretty and sometimes…I wonder. I just have to hope he ignores her charms and still carries his torch for me, and that nothing will come of my concerns…
I shut the book and pushed it aside, taking care so that it was well away from the remains of my breakfast. What on earth was a turnstone? And why did my great-grandmother think it might only exist back in her homeland?
Esmara, are you there?
No answer. I tried again and still no answer. Apparently, the Ladies were out lunching on the spiritual plane. I debated on whether to continue reading but then I remembered I had laundry to do and th
e house to clean, and Ari was coming over in the early afternoon. She wanted to introduce me to a friend of hers who was in from out of town, whom she thought I’d like to meet.
I finished my breakfast and downed the rest of my mocha and then hustled my ass upstairs to put a load of clothes in the laundry. I added detergent, set the controls, and then changed the sheets. As soon as I was done with that, I swept and mopped my bedroom, cleaned the bathroom, and then moved on to downstairs, where I swept like a whirlwind through the house. Luckily, I was a fairly neat person, and I tended to clean up after myself as I went.
I loaded the dishwasher with the breakfast dishes and since I hadn’t run it after dinner the previous evening, I set it to cycle. I kept glancing back at the table, at Colleen’s book of shadows. What else would I learn about my great-grandmother’s life? I now knew that she had been jealous of Rowan Firesong, and that was something that I’d have to figure out how to approach Rowan about. If I talked to her about it at all.
After I finished mopping the kitchen, I tidied the living room and then I was done. Cleaning had taken me an hour, tops, and now it was time to change the laundry out and put another load in.
“I’d love to have a maid,” I muttered.
No, you wouldn’t. You’d resent someone in your space, around your things. Which is why your mother never hired help.
I jumped. Sometimes the Ladies were downright sneaky. You startled me! Esmara, I found Colleen’s book of shadows.
Good. Read it all the way through. It will take some time, but there are so many things in there you can use to help you hone your magic.
She was jealous of Rowan.
Well, yes, we know that now, but my sisters and I never realized it then.
Is Colleen with the Ladies? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention her.
Conjure Web: A Moonshadow Bay Novel, Book 3 Page 3