Coon Hollow Coven Tales 1-3

by Marsha A. Moore

  Willow patted her shoulder. “Don’t be nervous ‘bout seeing your mom as a ghost. It’ll feel good. I’ve heard that lots of people talk with ghosts.”

  “I’m fine with that.” Jancie glanced back inside the ticket booth to make sure that Adara was still there and no closer. “It’s just—” Jancie found the coven leader missing and choked on her words. She spun around and looked down the three paths leading from the main arch.

  Rachelle stepped closer. “What’s wrong? You look spooked.”

  “The coven leader I met last Wednesday gave me an evil look.” Jancie pushed her hair behind her shoulders. “I’m fine. Let’s get something to eat.”

  Rachelle nodded and linked her arm in Jancie’s.

  Willow took the lead and made a beeline for the food area. She faced her friends. “I need to try their sausage rolls so I can figure out how to make them. I want Dad to add them to our menu at the Fern.” She stepped to the food stand, and the others three friends spread apart.

  Minutes later, they gathered in the center of the path. Jancie and Rachelle pulled wads off a huge elephant ear, while Willow studied the cornmeal-encased pork. Lizbeth walked up with a bag of magic popcorn. “Check this out!” She fingered a few kernels that turned purple with her touch, then shoved them into her mouth. “Grape,” she muttered through the mouthful. “There’s more.” She picked up another kernel which turned yellow. “Bet this one’s cheese.”

  “Oh! I have to try some.” Willow took a break from her sausage analysis and sampled the popcorn.

  The others followed suit, and Jancie ended up with a rust-colored, peppery hot handful.

  Half an hour later, with sticky fingers, they wound their way out of the food path’s far end into the adult rides.

  “Look at that one!” Willow hopped up and down. “It’s new. I have to go on that one.” Individual swings hung on cables from a central point on a main column. When the ride started, the swings swept out in a wide circle. The cables, a unique color for each swing, twisted and untwisted into an ever-changing pattern of complex braids.

  “Ooh. Me too.” Lizbeth clapped her hands together. “It’s called the Celtic Plait. Maybe I can learn some new ways to braid my hair.”

  “What could you learn?” Rachelle replied. “You already braid that stuff a hundred ways. And we need to help Jancie first.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I forgot.” Lizbeth faced Jancie. “Lead the way.”

  “I’m not sure where Rowe’s tent is.” Disoriented by the people milling everywhere, Jancie turned in place. “I think the readers are mixed throughout the rides.” She pointed past the braiding swings. “Let’s try this way. I see tents.” She took hold of Rachelle’s hand and snaked the group through the human maze.

  Tents in richly colored satiny fabric dotted the spaces between rides. A line formed outside of an emerald green one decorated with heavy silver cording. A hand-lettered wooden sign above the doorway read ‘Sibeal, the Soothsayer’.

  With great difficulty, Jancie wound along the line for the favorite ride—Racing Serpents. A roller coaster race between two gigantic, golden live snakes. Riders sat in cars tied to the snakes’ backs and undulated up and down as the serpents coiled at full speed following a winding, elevated wooden double track. She promised herself a ride, if she got through what she came for.

  Rachelle yanked on Jancie’s hand. “This way. I see Harley up ahead.”

  Heat prickled down the back of Jancie’s neck as she followed her friend to a large red tent hung with glittering glass ornaments along its horizontal support. In ornate gold script, the sign read ‘Arcane Aviary.’

  Inside, at least a hundred folding chairs stood facing a three-sided stage. People filled half of the seating, and a sign on a tall easel showed a clock face indicating the next show time would be at seven o’clock. Jancie checked her phone. Five minutes.

  She led her friends to places along a side aisle in case Harley followed and a quick escape would be needed. She leaned forward across their row. “Have any of you seen this before? How long does it take?”

  Willow shrugged. “I’m always too busy eating or riding.”

  “Or chasing men,” Rachelle added.

  Lizbeth raised a hand. “I saw this with my parents when I was about ten. It’s wonderful. I think it lasted about twenty minutes.”

  “That long? I need to find Rowe.” Jancie blew out a sharp breath through her teeth and checked the door. “Maybe we can duck out earlier.”

  “Don’t worry.” Rachelle, seated next to Jancie, patted her hand. “We’ll get you to him.”

  The female witch with the dark bobbed hair who Jancie had seen staring at her in the Fern Café walked along the aisle where she sat. Again, she seemed familiar, but Jancie couldn’t place the connection. The familiarity seemed positive. On gut instinct, Jancie spun and faced the approaching woman. Her pulse rang in her ears as she asked, “Excuse me. I need to find the tent of the man who wears the moonstone. Do you know where that is?”

  A wide smile covered the woman’s petite face almost to her large pearl button earrings. “Of course. You’re very close.” She pointed a black gloved hand in the direction opposite from the Racing Serpent ride. “Turn left when you leave here. His tent is four more down on this side.” Her brown eyes sparkled beneath horn-rimmed glasses. “You look familiar. I saw you in the Fern the other day. Do I know you?”

  Jancie couldn’t resist returning the warm smile, not only for the helpful directions but also because the woman seemed so caring and friendly. “I don’t think so. But thank you for the directions. My name is Jancie.” She stared into the woman’s eyes, trying to remember some previous connection.

  The woman held out a tiny, gloved hand. “I’m Cerise. It’s nice to meet you, Jancie. I feel certain we’ve met in some way. Enjoy the show. Austan and his wife Zelma are amazing.” She smiled and walked backstage through a side door.

  Jancie made a mental note of that door as an alternate exit and wondered how she might have met Cerise before. Jancie faced Rachelle. “Did you hear that? Rowe’s tent is only four down from here.”

  “Yes! We’ll head straight there after the show,” Rachelle’s husky voice rose. “Lizbeth has been telling us about the bird show. If we have to hide out, I want to see it.”

  Harp music played, and Jancie settled back in her seat, glad to know that Rowe’s tent was close. Something about Cerise’s warmth made Jancie feel like things would somehow work out.

  A woman in a dress of gauzy layers in every shade of blue bounded to the center of the stage. Her legs, clad in light blue tights, spread wide into aerial splits as she sailed to a graceful landing on the soft sole of her ballerina slippers. She curtsied to the audience. “Hello. Thank you all for visiting the Arcane Aviary. My name is Zelma. Allow me to introduce my husband and partner, Austan.” She held her arm to the side of the stage and nodded.

  The man wore a black, double-breasted sport coat over wide-legged pale blue trousers. He tipped his black fedora and bowed to the crowd’s applause. “Thank you. You are in for a real treat. Now, I present our mysterious array of avians.”

  Zelma waved a graceful arm, and a spotlight hit a mirrored disco ball hanging from the tent’s central peak.

  With a single clap of Austan’s hands, a flock of ten songbirds materialized, one from each finger. The birds flitted around the tent’s ceiling, their plumage in bright shades of red, turquoise, salmon, lime, yellow, cobalt. Tweets and warbles blended into a happy melody.

  Lizbeth leaned across Rachelle and said, “Look carefully at the birds. They’re glass.”

  Jancie craned her neck to watch the closest sail past. Caught in pinpricks of light, the canary yellow bird gleamed with the opalescence of fine glass. She leaned across Rachelle. “How does it flap its wings?”

  Lizbeth shrugged and grinned. “Magic.”

  Zelma pirouetted, and a golden frame of bars appeared behind her. She extended a hand in the air, and the birds sp
ed to the perch.

  Austan stepped to the side of the stage and returned with a molten orange ball of glass at the end of a blowpipe almost as long as he was tall. He twisted the pipe as he blew into it. The soft glass slowly took shape. A beaked head became visible. Wings spread to the sides and grew to what looked like more than a six-foot wingspan. Jancie sat of the edge of her seat, wondering how there could be enough glass to create the enormous bird.

  The male witch paused for a breath and looked at the audience, his face red and shiny with sweat. He stepped nearer the edge of the stage, and people cheered for him to continue. He flashed a smile and blew into the pipe, creating the bird’s tail. He filled his cheeks full of air and puffed into the tube, which set the bird free and gave it life. Or magical life. With one mighty flap, it soared above the heads of the crowd, taking on the colors of an eagle. Its white glass head scattered light in all directions.

  Jancie clapped and cheered but couldn’t hear her own noise over that from the people around her.

  While the eagle glided in circles, Zelma spun again. She continued spinning, so fast that her dress of various blues blended into one hue. She lifted her arms, and a peacock formed in her spread hands. The crowd roared. She slowed to a gentle rotation and set the bird into flight. It made one close turn around the mirrored ball, then took center stage and displayed its fine glittering, glass plumage.

  The couple continued creating birds, each in turn more amazing and spectacular, as if trying to best each other. In the finale, all the birds took to the ceiling and paraded in a circle.

  Jancie enjoyed the show, but the moment the birds disappeared, she sat straight in her chair, ready to leave. When the couple turned to leave the stage, she pulled Rachelle with her into the aisle. Jancie looked back for Lizbeth and Willow, but they seemed fixed on cheering for an encore along with others. “I’m not staying any longer,” Jancie said under her breath to Rachelle and wound through the slow-to-leave crowd.

  “Liz!” Rachelle called back and pointed in the direction Cerise had described. “Catch up to us four tents down on this side.”

  Lizbeth nodded as Willow stepped over her knees to join the others.

  Jancie took a step out of the tent and checked both directions along the path. No sign of Harley or Dad. She glanced at Rachelle and Willow. “All clear. Let’s go.”

  The threesome twisted in and out of the packed walkway, dodging kids with sticky cotton candy and obese women. They passed a massive gold tent advertising a juggling performance. Walking traffic stopped them in front of a small purple tent with a sign showing a glowing crystal ball The sign “The Griever’s Moonstone” hung high on a blue tent ahead. Jancie focused on that sign and tried to shut out the noise and chaos around her. The purple door flap lifted beside her. From inside, a beam of white light streamed onto her and broke her concentration.

  From the instant she froze in that spotlight, things happened fast. Adara stepped from between tents and laughed at Jancie. “It looks like the crystal ball is searching for you. Hope you’re having a good evening.”

  Before Jancie could answer, Harley’s voice yelled from behind. “Jancie, wait up!”

  She darted forward, wanting to dive into Rowe’s tent before Harley reached her, as if just by stepping inside, she’d be safe. But hearing him shout at her again, she grabbed Rachelle’s hand and changed course, slipping along the far side of the next tent. Only the long entrance to the Ferris wheel stood between her and Rowe’s tent. Thankful the cuing line was packed with people, she moved behind the tent and faced her friends. “I’m going to duck low and cut across this line over to Rowe’s tent. Can you wait for Harley and lead him another way?”

  “Would love to.” Rachelle’s lips curled as she twisted her bracelets faster. “Anything for my bff.”

  “I’ll go back a ways and make sure he sees me.” Willow spun and sped away.

  Jancie slunk down and aimed for the densest parts of the Ferris wheel’s line. Squirming between bellies and backs, she reached the other side and heard Willow’s shrill drawl.

  “Lizbeth, we’re over here. We’re all cuttin’ through here to the prize games.”

  Jancie followed the back of Rowe’s tent to remain out of sight longer, then edged along the far side to the main path. She peeked out and, finding no threats, she zipped through the open flap.

  Chapter Eight: The Crystal Ball

  Adara stood beside the ticket taker, welcoming guests to the opening of Friday’s carnival. Sensing a unique energy in the crowd, she jerked her arm away from where it rested on the desk. Curiosity has brought the girl back. She looked down the line and didn’t see Jancie but felt the younger woman’s presence.

  Elaine, the high-school aged clerk, glanced over her shoulder at Adara. “Are you all right, High Priestess?”

  Adara took a step back. “Yes. I’m quite fine.” She waved a hand for the girl to resume her job and leaned against shelves along the back wall of the tiny booth reflecting upon her first brief encounter with Jancie.

  The moonstone’s magic had sparked for Jancie that day outside the gate. The idea the locket would open for her seemed possible, enough for Adara to be on high alert. If the moonstone responded to Jancie, nothing for the girl or Rowe would ever be the same. Good or bad, that girl would influence his life. Adara gnashed her teeth at the thought.

  Rowe’s rebuff of her advances the other night still stung. Even though he denied wanting her, she remained resolute to prove to him how right they were for each other. No one was going to interfere.

  It had been exhilarating to remove Lenore from claiming Rowe, although Lenore’s simple desire possessed no element of magic. The strength of the moonstone was another matter, posing a far greater challenge for Adara to overcome. Goosebumps rose along her skin as she thought of the challenge. If she could overpower the moonstone, no one would question her supremacy or reign as high priestess. They’d honor her as her mother was revered.

  Blocking the moonstone’s call to Jancie would be difficult, though Adara relished the test. However, if the locket opened, she didn’t know whether or not she could break the centuries-old bond. She looked down and found herself fidgeting with her snake ring. Stop that sign of weakness, she scolded herself. I’ll win this challenge with grace. The corners of her mouth lifted.

  “I know that devious smile.” Dearg, her familiar, lifted his wings from where he perched on the top shelf. “May I play?”

  “Only if you can keep up,” Adara quipped, her gaze fixed on the people filing past the window.

  “Sweet! I’m in.” The crow sidestepped to hang over her shoulder. “What’s the low down?”

  Jancie came into view, and Adara stretched over the upper counter to greet her. The girl flinched at the sight of her, and Adara’s smile widened. Playing upon opponents’ fear was always a good strategy. She leaned closer and held Jancie captive with eye contact until the girl’s fingers trembled while she paid for her ticket.

  Upon releasing Jancie, Adara exited the booth and wound behind tents to a point where she could watch the girl pass. A group of three girlfriends protected her. Or at least one did: a hippie Bohemian sort wearing a long, full skirt and armfuls of bracelets, stood close enough to protect. The other two gawked at carnival lights.

  Adara glanced up at her crow perched on a nearby tent support. “We’ll need to separate that group of four young women. I’m interested in the one with red hair.”

  “Hot doll.” Dearg winged onto the path, then headed in the direction of the group.

  “Get back here,” Adara hissed under her breath. “You’re drawing attention to me. One more exclamation like that, and you’ll be back on graveyard patrol for the night.”

  “Take it easy, dollface. No one noticed.” Dearg resettled on his perch.

  “They’re moving. Use your high vantage to see where they’re going. I’ll follow at the edge of the path until you circle back and direct me.”

  “Will do.” The crow flapp
ed above peoples’ heads as they pushed along the crowded path. A few looked up and took pictures of him with their phones. They probably thought a harassing crow was part of the special effects.

  Adara shook her head and chuckled. She worked her way from tent to tent, pausing to stand beside doors. She said hello to carnival-goers and then moved to the next tent, where she met Dearg.

  “Heading over to the food area.” He lifted off and across the path, and Adara followed.

  At the path’s edge, she paused, looking for a break in the traffic. To her pleasant surprise, people stopped to let her pass. She rewarded them with her gracious smile and elegant gait as she moved past to the other side. Too bad that feeling of majesty wore off when she darted between tents and wormed her way to gain a glimpse of Jancie’s group.

  Adara grew bored and restless while the women stuffed their faces for nearly half an hour. The moonstone connection must be weaker than I expected. She folded her arms and paced the rear of a tent. I don’t know whether to be relieved or upset. Overpowering the moonstone would have been a fine feather for my bonnet.

  “Patience, your Highness.” Dearg eyed her from a lamppost. As her dancing fingers shot heat at the arching metal, he lifted one foot then the other before taking wing. “I think I’ll do a fly-over and see if they’ve finished eating.”

  A few minutes later, he returned and circled above Adara. “Time to move on.”

  She shrugged, wondering whether this escapade could achieve what she wanted. “Which way?”

  “Toward the rides. Seems normal. Is that supposed to be suspicious?”

  She clenched her hands into fists. “It’s about time she headed for Rowe’s tent. Let’s go.”

  The crow cackled and fell a few feet below the tent rail before he spread his wings. “Someone’s horn-swaggled.”

  “You mocking piece of dung feathers.” Angered by his insightful joke, Adara stormed off along the back alley with Dearg muttering apologies at her back. When she approached another public path to cross, again the crowd parted and formed her private walkway. She slowed her pace and savored the moment.