Hauntings in the Garden, Volume One

by Wild Rose Press Authors

  A master of many disguises, it knew exactly how it would take the powerful little green witch. The wolf, he was another story. Suffer is what it wanted Hunter Colhen to do. The sikkqui would take everything he ever cared about for as long as Hunter lived. The price the wolf would pay for his father’s deeds. The sikkqui hadn’t gotten the chance to make the elder Colhen suffer so he would satisfy its wrath with the son.

  ****

  Hunter lumbered through the forest heading toward his cabin. The little witch pulled at him like a magnet. He’d had to see her again. He shook his wolf head trying to clear fogged thoughts. Some compunction demanded he go to her cottage. Some force kept him there. Why? To protect her? It seemed the deities spoke quietly to him. Invoked him to make himself visible to her.

  She held no fear. He’d tried to show her he meant no harm, and she’d understood. And she’d even spoken to him. Her soft, sweet voice lulled him, calmed the frustration that taunted him. The self-reproach and anger he lived with daily quelled with her near. His loins were not unaffected either. She excited his beast, as well, the man hidden beneath the fur.

  As he’d watched her, he realized just how beautiful she was. When he’d seen her at Nadyia’s, she’d been distracted and then turned away before he’d really looked at her. The hum when their eyes locked had also distracted him. Then finally, Nadyia had come to him. By then she’d moved across the store, and he’d gone with Nadyia to the back of the shop.

  Now, the more distance he put between them, his morose feelings radiated as strong as ever. The anger burned, the frustration wreaked havoc with his mind and his heart chilled once again.

  Moving around to the rear of the cabin, he pushed through the large doggie door into the mudroom. He shook and settled his mind into the change. A long intake of breath and the transition slammed into him. His fur sloughed off as skin replaced it. Bones shifted, and his spine cracked loudly as his leg bones lengthened and his body straightened to a stand. A howl turned moan sounded as he completed the shift. The process took less than five minutes, but the mess took at least forty-five minutes to clean up. Fur and fluids covered the tiled floor, the reason he always shifted here or outdoors.

  He left the mess and headed for the bathroom and a hot shower. He’d deal with that later.

  ****

  Showered, fed and mess cleaned up, Hunter felt human again. He lit a small candle and settled on the couch before the hearth. A warm fire burned within the fireplace. He leaned back, placed his feet upon the coffee table and crossed his ankles. Staring into the dancing flame of the candle with the fire as a backdrop, he quietly centered for his meditation. He needed some answers and figured it best to go directly to the source.

  Calm settled over him like a favorite blanket, and he allowed his mind to tune in to his rhythmic breaths. He imagined a golden cocoon surrounding him as he mentally called upon the deities for insight as to how the witch—Breanna Mcshae—fit into his life.

  His breathing slowed, and his body relaxed while his mind fell into a fitful sleep.

  His wolf moved with stealth through the dark forest. He followed the sweet chanting into the candlelit clearing. She stood before the altar in a flowing, white-hooded gown. She continued to chant softly, holding a goblet high overhead, then lowered it. Taking a small sip, she set the goblet on the altar surface. Candlelight swayed in the light breeze, and night creatures sang in the background. A tiny bell tinkled, and she turned toward him and smiled.

  “Hello again, my wolf. My familiar. On this, the new moon, we begin anew. You and I will be as one yet we are two. My powers stored in the earth will run through you as well. This is true from the powers that be, the Goddess and God have blessed you and me. All I say this eve is true. Let us join, come to me, so mote it be.”

  She reached out, drawing him to her. Gently, she ruffled the fur between his ears and ran her hand along his flank. She bent and nuzzled her face into the fur of his neck.

  Deep in his mind he heard a soft intoned, so mote it be.

  Then the dream morphed…

  The sudden beating of wings broke the stillness in the clearing. Hunter saw not a bird but a darkness descending—a deep shadow which took the shape of a raven but slowly melded into something else…

  No!

  He blinked. Pawed at his eyes.

  A primal growl rose from deep within him. He tried to shift but couldn’t. He flanked Breanna. Tried to push her back…away…

  The sikkqui drifted slowly downward. Its fiery eyes locked on Breanna. Hunter nudged Breanna, but she stood staring at the apparition. Hunter growled and shoved his flank into Breanna’s legs. She didn’t move nor did she acknowledge the contact other than the force setting her off balance a moment. The creature floated above adjusting to stand in front of the witch. Its mouth began to open as it closed in on Breanna. It shifted to stand mere inches from her and began to swallow Breanna’s essence.

  Hunter attempted to change once more. The sikkqui began the drawing with an eerie high-pitched whine on a sigh.

  Hunter lunged…

  And awoke.

  Sweat streamed along his hairline and at the back of his neck. He scrubbed his damp face. “Shit.” He stood and moved toward the kitchen. “Whiskey.”

  He grabbed the bottle off the counter and then put it down. Instead, he moved to the cabinet and pulled out a canister of chamomile and wolf’s bane tea. He set the pot to boil and went to the sink. A cold splash of water sluiced over his face, and he grabbed the towel off the rack. After wiping his face, he tossed the towel onto the counter and pounded his fist down in a loud thump.

  “That fucking thing is not going to get to Breanna!” He gritted his teeth so hard he felt his jaw snap. But what was he going to do about it? They didn’t even know each other, except for the fact that he was her animal familiar. The high-pitched whistle of the teapot interrupted any further thought for the moment.

  ****

  Brea shook dirt and mulch from the old beach towel as she stood. Picking up her garden tools, she smiled proudly at her new herb garden. She’d been at it all morning. If the placement of the sun and the growling of her stomach was any indication, it must be well past noon.

  She pulled off her gloves and tucked everything into a large handled basket and climbed the few steps onto the front porch. She walked the wraparound deck to the shed at the side of the house and put her garden tools away. A quick shower and a sandwich, and she planned on heading to Centertown to check out the autumn festival going on this weekend.

  Stomping off the residual dirt, Brea headed into the house.

  An hour and a half later, Brea put the finishing touches of blush to her cheeks and grabbed a sweater. She took a last look in the full-length mirror in her bedroom as she passed. She gave herself a mental thumbs up and moved into the hall toward the entry to gather her purse and keys.

  The midafternoon sun shone through the lacy canopy as she drove along Route 5 into town. Indian summer had blessed the little town the last few weeks, temperatures hovering in the low seventies. Perfect weather for a festival. Perhaps she would run into some friends. She should have called Pam and Dina. She mentally slapped herself. Neither woman was good with anything last minute and both lived in the next county over. She chuckled. Nadyia would certainly be about, and she was sure others she knew, if only by face, would be there.

  Brea slowed the SUV to make the turn onto Barters Road when her cell phone lit up. She pushed the hands off button on the steering wheel.

  “Hey! I was just thinking about you, Dina. What’s going on?”

  “At my brother’s in Waterton and bored to tears. Thought I’d give you a holler. You in the car?”

  “Yes. Heading into Centertown to check out the festival. It was a last minute thought, or I would have given you a call.”

  “Even a small town fair would be better than three kids crawling all over me and my brother’s wife telling me all about life on the soccer field.” She sighed. “Please, get me o
ut of here.”

  Brea laughed. “Poor Dina…” She pulled into the apothecary parking lot and parked. The town looked busy, and she didn’t want to chance driving around seeking a place to park farther in town. “Well, try to suck it up, my friend. Why don’t you make some plans to come stay with me for a long weekend? We’ll find something to do.”

  “You know? I just might take you up on that, but that’s not why I called. I’ve had a vision, Brea. I saw darkness, something evil, and it seems attracted to you…”

  “Nonsense.” Dina had a not so well-tuned third eye. She hadn’t gained a good handle on the gift as yet, having recently come into her full potential as Breanna with her Craft. “What darkness could happen on such a wonderful day? Perhaps you misread your vision. Can you be any more specific?” She leaned back in the seat and slipped her purse strap onto her shoulder.

  “No. It just appears a darkness that hovers and seems to engulf you. And an intense sense of evil. Nothing more. Perhaps you are right, but just the same, please, be careful. I haven’t figured out how to hone in on these visions yet. They come to me so vague. A lot of help they are, more annoyance than help to anyone.”

  “I will. And don’t be discouraged, Dina. You need to practice; it will become more natural with the effort. Trust me. Now, please, do think about getting up here to spend some time, okay?”

  “Will do. Well, you enjoy your festival. I’ll call you in a couple of days.”

  “Sounds good. Talk soon.” Brea rang off and disconnected the phone from the port, placing it in her purse. She left the vehicle and wandered in to see Nadyia before heading into Centertown on foot, Dina’s cryptic warning already out of mind.

  ****

  Hunter leaned against an ancient rowan tree and observed the people and festival activities. Children ran helter-skelter while parents discussed everything from sports to PTA. Vendors lined the streets. Some sold handmade items, while others sold food or called to passersby to try their luck at various games. The street wore fall foliage, strung amber, red, green lights twinkled in windows and on festive garlands draped across the old-fashioned iron street lamps. Autumn and Samhain were a big deal to this town as was Yule. The wheel sabbats and festivals recognized and celebrated in high Pagan regard.

  He had been raised Pagan and practiced the sabbats as his parents had. He did not perform fancy rituals but kept them appropriately. His mother was a high green witch and his father a wolf who practiced green craft as well. He hadn’t grown up far from this town, but after his mother and brother were killed, he and his father moved around a lot. They headed wherever sikkqui activity drew them. Hunter huffed. Fucking sikkqui…

  “Hunter. Hey, buddy, how the hell are ya?” A friendly slap on the back followed, pulling Hunter from his thoughts.

  “Mica! When did you get back in town? Thought you were raising hell in Europe?” Hunter gave the big guy a return thump on the back.

  “Actually, got back this morning.” He took a swallow of a dark lager he held and continued, “I came into to town to track you down. Any new activity?”

  “Yeah. The fucking thing is back.” Hunter began to walk, and Mica fell into step with him. “The European packs ever have any dealings with this thing? You get anything?”

  “Nah…they never heard of it. Nothing to research over there, my friend. But I did find out something you need to know while I was on layover in Braxton. Have you researched your father’s family at all?”

  Hunter stopped and turned to face his friend. “No. Only what my father told me. Why?”

  “Let’s go, get you a brew or perhaps something a bit stronger. You are gonna need it.” Mica led him toward the beer garden.

  “What the hell are you talking about? What does my family have to do with the sikkqui?”

  “Drink first. Trust me.” Mica ordered a pitcher, grabbed two plastic steins, and they found a quiet table to sit and talk.

  “Spill it.” Hunter demanded, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth after a long chug of the beer.

  “Okay, I looked into the Talbott family murders and I found this.” Mica pulled a folded paper from his jacket pocket. “This is an earlier incident that happened not far from the Talbott cottage. How much do you know about the sikkqui?”

  “I know they can shift to whatever form they like. They can walk among us without detection. And I know they disappear for years at a time.”

  “Did you know they can take human form, and if they find a human mate they can remain so?” Mica asked watching him carefully, his expression masked.

  “No.” He shifted in his seat and studied the edge of his stein for a moment, then took a large swallow. “What does this have to do with my family?”

  “Well, this particular creature took human form about thirty years ago and marked a human female as his mate. When a sikkqui marks a mate in human form, there is no turning back. It assumes human form and is vulnerable and has higher emotional levels.” Mica hesitated. “The woman it marked was your mother.”

  Hunter turned his head and spit a mouthful of beer to the ground. “What?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Mica took a gulp of lager. “Your father took your mother from the sikkqui. A battle ensued and the creature melded from its human form. Your father took it out and burned the human remains so it could not return.”

  “Then old man Talbott comes along and raises the fucking thing again,” Hunter finished.

  “Yep. And if you ask me, I think the thing has a burr in its side for you. It is torturing you because it can’t torture your father. I think that is why it let you live. Your father was away when it came, right? And then your father died, so it is latched to you for its revenge.” Mica swallowed hard. “Dude, I think it plans to kill everyone you get close to.”

  “That’s funny, Mica. I have no life and I have no one for it to kill except you, my friend.” Hunter’s mouth turned up in a sardonic grin. “Sooo…the hunt is on. You game? I want this son of a bitch put down.”

  “I’m game. Watch your back. Whoa! Nice…”

  Hunter followed Mica’s stare. Breanna. His wolf rose up and growled within. Back off. Mine. He stood. “I know her, and she is off limits to the likes of you, my friend.”

  “And who pré tel is she? Keeping secrets, are we?” Mica teased.

  “Long story and French is unbecoming on a Scotsman.” Hunter moved toward Breanna as he called back to Mica, “I’ll tell you about it sometime. For now, meeting adjourned.”

  Mica signaled “call me” and moved off into the crowd.

  ****

  Brea caught sight of Hunter and another man talking as she approached the beer garden. Hunter was hard to miss. Tall, muscular though not bulky, more athletic toned with longish, light-brown, wavy hair. His jeans hugged him in all the right places. She’d hoped she might run into him but didn’t think she would. He didn’t seem the festival type, somehow. The man with him was not lacking in sex appeal either. Same height but bulkier muscled with close cropped black hair, chiseled features and beautiful blue eyes.

  The companion glanced in her direction while saying something to Hunter, then Hunter looked her way. A buzz of heat rushed through her causing her gait to falter. She sidestepped to a beer counter and ordered a mug to rein in her weird emotions. Whoa… What was that all about? she thought as she paid the vendor and took the mug.

  Breanna started to walk toward a nearby bench when she felt a light tap on her shoulder. She turned only to stare up into the tawny eyes of Hunter Colhen. Her heart skipped, not one but two beats, and she almost dropped the stein. Her senses fired, but she regained control without mishap.

  “Hi. I am Hunter Colhen. I believe we have Nadyia in common from the apothecary.” He smiled and put his hand out.

  “Hello.” Brea shook his hand. “Yes, I remember seeing you at the shop a couple days ago. My name is Breanna, Breanna McShae. You can call me Brea.”

  “Nice to meet you, Brea. Are you here alone?”
>
  “Yes. You?” She took a sip of the beer.

  “Yep. Came to check out the festival and ran into a friend earlier but quite alone now.” He smiled.

  “Me, too. You want a beer?” she asked pointing to the vendor she’d just left.

  “Actually, I have a pitcher over there.” He nodded in the direction of the table he and his friend had occupied. “Would you join me?”

  “Sure.” Thank you, Goddess! Hunter led her toward the table and pulled a chair out for her, then took the chair across the small table.

  “So Nadyia tells me you moved in this past summer. How d’ya like it here?”

  Brea pushed down the odd energy draw that suddenly swept over her. “I love it here. I am still settling in, but the few people I have met so far seem very nice.” She smiled and glanced around the fairgrounds. “This is a wonderful little festival. A great way to mingle with the neighbors, so to speak.”

  “Yes. We live in the outskirts where neighbors are quite rare.” He laughed. “So your point is well spoken.” He refilled both their mugs and lifted his in salute. She tapped her stein to his. “To new friends.”

  “To new friends…” she repeated and took a sip. “How long have you lived here, Hunter?”

  “Off and on most of my life. I was born in the area. We moved around a lot, but I always seem to come back.”

  He rocked his chair back and gazed at her for a few seconds as if in deep thought. “Nadyia tells me you bought the Talbott cottage. Nice piece of property.”

  “Yes. Came across it quite by accident, but fell in love with it. Nadyia and you had quite the conversation about me, it seems.” She smiled. “She told me a bit about you as well. You live out on Danté Point and have a custom-built cabin. She is quite impressed with you, by the way.” Brea laughed. “Says you are like a grandson to her.”

  “She is a spitfire and a very special little woman, and it is good to know the interest is mutual on both our parts.”

  Brea felt the heat of a blush skirt along her cheeks. She looked down and pretended to peruse something in her purse hoping he hadn’t noticed. No such luck.