Coon Hollow Coven Tales 1-3

by Marsha A. Moore

  Jancie checked the dark sky, made even darker with gray clouds that blocked out the stars as far as she could see. She harnessed several of the largest and heaviest. The tip of her wand gave a faint glow as those clouds crashed into others, and she tucked the hazel branch into the folds of her wrap. Gusts whipped against her back, pushing her toward the building.

  A covered dish of roast potatoes in her hands, Cerise leaned in. “Follow my lead during the opening, but when things loosen up, you may find your moment. The meal follows the ceremony.”

  Jancie nodded and filed inside, at once scanning the crowd for Adara. No woman with her figure and poise appeared in the colors Rowe indicated. Most people wore masks with varying degrees of decoration. She spotted Vika in a group of matrons, her simple green leafy mask unable to hide her wiry bush of white hair. Jancie thought she recognized Logan. But one look into the man’s eyes made her frightened that she’d gotten too close to someone who might recognize her as an imposter. Her heart thumped in her chest as she kept an eye on the stranger for suspicious behavior. The gathering reminded Jancie of movies where masquerade balls hid the identity of an intruder intending to do harm. Tonight, she was the intruder.

  Smells of myrrh and sage mingled with savory aromas of harvest recipes in the large, open room. Cerise placed her dish on a buffet alongside baskets of home baked bread, bowls of steaming carrots and potatoes, and tempting apple and pomegranate deserts. Long dinner tables were laid with table settings for a meal.

  Cerise guided them from the tables to an open area in front of an altar where a large circle covered much of the floor. They stood on the circle at one sidewall beside the few already present. An ornate chair sat empty next to the altar table. The massive wooden buffet held a large dish covered with a cloth. An array of nature’s autumn abundance decorated either side including pine cones, asters, chrysanthemums, gourds, and small pumpkins.

  Masked members continued to take their places, forming a circle. Rowe stood across from Jancie and Cerise along the opposite wall.

  Thunder rumbled outside the doors. Cold air crawled across Jancie’s cheek nearest the entrance, and the crowd grew quiet. She faced that direction, her suspicions sending waves of tension through her body.

  The high priestess wore a clinging long sleeved gown of black satin, the plunging neckline trimmed in midnight blue. She trailed a train of blue from the dress’s dramatic flared hem, and a matching cape fluttered in layers down her back. From dark, curved horns atop her head, an intricate tangle of black vines and blue feathers covered her face and draped down her shoulders.

  Adara glided, head high and a crimson smile plastered on her lips, to the decorative chair. Once seated, she nodded to a young woman. “Lenore, please come forward. I present our maiden of Mabon.”

  The pale, slim woman wore no mask. Her simple, white gown whipped around her thin limbs as she took the wide, covered bowl from the altar and placed it in the center of the circle. After receiving a nod from the leader, Lenore returned to her place.

  Adara rose and, with a flourish of her cape, moved before the altar’s center. “We are joined this evening to celebrate the aging goddess as she passes from mother to crone, and her consort as he prepares for death and re-birth. Now is the time of balance, when day and night face each other as equals. Night is waxing and day is waning, for nothing ever remains without change, in the tides of earth and sky.”

  The words she just said! Jancie fidgeted with the end of her wand inside her wrap. Does she know my intentions? Can she feel my power?

  Adara continued in a loud, clear voice, a wry grin lifting the corners of her lips, but her eyes never fell on Jancie. “Know and remember, that which rises must also set, and that which sets must also rise. To honor this change, let us dance the Dance of Going and Returning.”

  The members joined hands, and as discreetly as possible Jancie shifted her wand to the hand joined with Cerise’s. The group moved counterclockwise but kept the ring open with Adara forming the leading end.

  She led the line inwards from the marked circle in a spiral, tightening them around the covered dish. “Please sit.” Once all were settled, she walked to the dish and removed the cloth revealing a single ear of corn. “Be in awe of the mystery: through silence the seed of wisdom is gained.”

  All heads turned toward the corn, despite thunder rolling in all directions around the building and lightning flashing in the front window.

  After nearly a minute, Adara raised her arms to the sky. Thunder crashed. A chill entered the room, and people huddled together. “Our hidden God now departs to the Land of Youth, through the Gates of Death to stand enthroned as horned leader of the hosts of air. Yet, as he seems unseen to our circle, he actually lies within the secret seed, the seed of newly reaped grain, the seed of flesh, hidden in earth. In him is life, and life is the light of man, that which was never born and never dies. The wise ones tell us: weep not, but rejoice.”

  At Adara’s signal, the group rose, and she led them in a slow dance, moving clockwise and spiraling outward toward the perimeter of the circle. She took the hand of the last witch in the chain’s other end to close the ring and, and with a guttural whoop, speeded up the pace till the coven was circling fast. The high priestess undulated as though possessed by some demon. Her body slithered and snaked, arms waving in the air, black power dripping from her long nails onto her breasts.

  Members hooted and yelled, some making odd animal noises. Thunder boomed outside, and Jancie sensed the yank of her servant clouds growing inpatient on her tethers.

  The storm gathered force, and the dancers moved faster as though fed by its energy. Thunder shook the building. The electric lights flicked out. Lit by the dozens of candle flames, the ring broke apart. Dancers moved in a surreal frenzy. The outside doors flew open.

  A bobcat bounded into the room heading straight for the middle of the circle, its teeth bared in a vicious snarl.

  Two owls, Maeira and Busby, along with Waapake the coyote, sailed after the fierce cat.

  The dancers continued as if entranced, paying no attention to the angry beast or the three familiars.

  Jancie suspected Adara held the members in an enchantment, and shot a look at Rowe and at Cerise beside her.

  He danced but not with the fervor of the crowd, while Cerise spun like a drunken ballerina.

  Startled from her focus, Jancie lost her grip on one of her harnessed storm clouds. She wrestled to gain more secure holds on the others. Her practice in New Wish had never involved fighting another witch to keep possession of her clouds. Adara’s north wind fought against her both inside and outside of the building. The veil between seen and unseen was indeed thin.

  Adara hurled a black ball covered in a vaporous gray mist at Vika who twirled arm in arm with another old woman at the edge of the circle.

  At the same time, the bobcat lunged through the air for Vika’s torso, knocking the old witch off her feet. The death ball of the north wind smacked into the cement block, harming no one, but a clap of thunder shook the wall and rattled pictures down.

  Vika exclaimed, “My Siddie! You’ve come back to me.”

  Jancie wrestled lightning from one thunder cloud into her hand. She swept her wand out from her wrap as her power in the form of golden light channeled into it.

  The moment Adara’s first fire discharged, the priestess looked for Rowe and took a second aim.

  Before she could fire, a torrent of knives from the dining area sped toward her and speared her cape and dress. The blades dragged her backward until they lodged into the back and arms of her altar chair. Rowe’s eye gleamed at his successful animation.

  Three male forms Jancie recognized as Rowe’s council allies stepped forward and surrounded the captive priestess.

  Teeth gnashing, she struggled against her restraints. “Rowe, as high priestess, I order you to withdraw your magic!”

  When he only stood and watched her with arms folded across his chest, she wrenched a hand free
and hurled a small but tight ball at Cerise.

  Jancie shot back with a golden bolt from her wand that shattered Adara’s magic. The sky lit, and the floor shook with the collision of the two winds. Shards of black glass projected like missiles radiating from the center of the circle.

  Members of the crowd ceased their dancing and took places along the circle, watching and gasping. Many cried out and clung to one another, bleeding from cuts to their skin. All stared at Jancie glowing gold from head to toe.

  Adara’s mouth fell open, and she clenched the arms of her chair, her muscles stiffening. “You! You’ve already interfered with my life by just being born. How dare you come here and interfere with the coven, and with my magic. You’re nothing but a silly little town-girl, who didn’t inherit much of her mother’s powers.” With a groan, Adara lurched forward, tearing her cape from her shoulders, the sleeves of her dress in shreds. She glared at Jancie, a grimace contorting her painted face.

  A massive ball of darkness formed in the leader’s hand as she paced toward Jancie. “Death of the north wind is always stronger than your south wind’s fire.”

  Twisting to gain compliance from her clouds, Jancie reloaded her wand.

  Adara smirked at Jancie struggling to prepare and took aim.

  Jancie’s wand surged, like a magnificent sparkler, with light that lit the room. She sensed the moonstone warming against her chest. Its blue light shot out of the tip of her wand, mixing with the south wind’s fire.

  The priestess flung her arm forward, but her magic dropped only a short distance from her feet in a mass of dissipating smoke. “I cannot strike at you.” She tilted her head. “You possess something personal from my sister Fia. A gift from her. She will not let me harm you.” Adara shook her head, and a sly grin lifted the corners of her mouth. “Faye’s daughter as my nemesis. How did I not foresee that?”

  Jancie drew nearer, her wand still charged. “I ask you to step down from your position as high priestess.” She and Adara locked gazes.

  Adara snarled. “Who are you to make that request of me?”

  Logan whipped off a mask of tree bark and stepped into the middle of the circle. He thrust a fist into the air and declared in loud voice, “It is Mabon, a time when our covenant allows our leadership to be challenged.”

  Rowe lunged for the high priestess, a moment too late.

  Adara whipped a black ball dripping with red sparks directly at Logan’s chest. She fell backward after firing, and the blue light of Rowe’s hand left a gash in the wooden floor at her feet.

  Logan dove, sliding on his chest, and the evil mass changed its trajectory to follow.

  Jancie shot the remaining power in her wand at the red and black venomous ball.

  The larger barn owl sailed into the line of fire. She spread her tremendous wings over Logan’s body. Golden-white south wind light smacked into the north wind’s dark energy. A formidable crash sounded. Black dagger-like shards pelted the room. One thrust into the owl’s breast. A trickle of red stained her white feathers, but she remained steadfast.

  The priestess waved her arm in a wide circle above her head. The glass projectiles whirled in a tornado about the room.

  Jancie forced more energy from the one remaining cloud she controlled into her wand until the hazel wood vibrated in her hand. She gritted her teeth and gripped it with both hands. She lost her focus-hold on the cloud. It broke free.

  Adara’s blood-red lips drew into a hideous grin, and she set shards in motion, targeting Rowe. “The lovers who dare to break the Tabard curse will meet their fate!”

  Feet planted, Jancie dispersed power from her glowing wand in a sweeping arc around the ceiling. Her light surrounded the missiles like a net, the glass pieces glinting with a blinding glare.

  Adara cowered, shielding her eyes.

  Coven members gathered around Logan and Rowe, helping them to their feet. Logan stood and spread his arms wide, “This equinox brings us a chance for change. Let your voices cry out with your support!”

  The room filled with a deafening roar of cheers.

  Adara slowly strode to meet him.

  Jancie lowered her golden net until it circled above Adara’s head. Silence spread from the center of the circle outward.

  The leader scanned their faces, lingering on the council members who stood against her, as well as Keir, Logan, and Jancie. Adara’s own face transformed from a flawless pale complexion to ashen gray. With a stricken look in her dark eyes, she knelt and laid her mask of plumage and finery onto the floor beside the bowl of corn.

  Head down, she uttered in a soft voice, “What rises must also set, and that which sets must also rise.” She uncoiled from her hunch and snapped her fingers wide. Honed obsidian arrowheads shot from her black nails.

  With a flick of her wand’s tip, Jancie redirected the arsenal at Adara. Several sliced long cuts in the leader’s exposed flesh.

  Adara let out piercing scream and ran through the open double doors into the downpour.

  Jancie took direct aim at a thundercloud whirling in the south wind. She discharged the power remaining in her wand. Blue energy from the moonstone spilled into the hazel stick. A jag of lightning slashed the sky just outside the gymnasium. Its blinding light filled the entire room.

  When the glare subsided, Adara’s body lay crumpled on the sidewalk.

  Jancie, Rowe, and Logan ran to the doors.

  With the other two poised to strike, Logan checked Adara’s body for a pulse. Shaking his head, he stepped back.

  Rolls of thunder retreated into the distance.

  Rowe returned to where Maeira lay motionless on the floor, the shard of black glass cutting from her breast. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

  His own familiar nestled against his mother’s wing.

  Rowe spread his healing palms over her form. “There is no life to mend. She has passed.” He caressed Busby’s head and neck.

  Jancie knelt and comforted them. She lifted the moonstone locket from her neck. “The Tabard curse is now broken. This can now serve as intended, to mend grieving hearts.”

  Keir removed his brown leafy mask and touched Maeira’s head. “Her spirit, pure and good, has also made a new beginning, standing permanent watch over her departed mistress Edme in our cemetery.”

  Logan stood near and stretched his arms out to members as he turned in place. “Through silence the seed of wisdom is gained.”

  Quiet spread over the room. Rumbles from the fading storm receded from the hollow. Cerise and her family drew near, as did Vika and her friends. One by one, coven members drifted to the majestic owl to pay their respects and express appreciation for a chance at new leadership and goals, hopes, and dreams for a better future.

  ***The End***

  Back to series contents

  ~*~

  Witch’s Cursed Cabin

  A Coon Hollow Coven Tale

  by

  Marsha A. Moore

  ~*~

  Book Description

  Eager to be on her own away from home, twenty-year-old Aggie Anders accepts a relative’s invitation to live in Coon Hollow Coven. Although she’s a witch from a different coven, what locals say about the Hollow confuses her. How can witchcraft there live and breathe through souls of the dead?

  Aggie’s new residence in this strange southern Indiana world is a deserted homestead cabin. The property’s carriage house serves as the coven’s haunted Halloween fundraiser. It’s a great opportunity for her to make new friends, especially with the coven’s sexy new High Priest Logan.

  But living in the homestead also brings Aggie enemies. Outsiders aren’t welcome. A cantankerous, old neighbor tries to frighten her off by warning her that the homestead is cursed. Local witches who practice black magic attempt to use their evil to drive Aggie away and rid their coven of her unusual powers as a sun witch.

  Determined to stay and fit in, Aggie discovers not only that the cabin is cursed, but she alone is destined to break the curse before moonr
ise on Samhain. If she fails, neither the living nor the dead will be safe.

  Chapter One: The Homestead

  A shove of my shoulder pried the rusty hinges on the heavy log cabin door loose. I flung my blond braid to my back and peered inside. Beings and critters, alive and furry as well as undead and translucent, flew, crawled, or slithered across dark recesses of the hallway, sitting room, and stairwell.

  “You weren’t kidding that this place is haunted.” I shuddered and looked over my shoulder at Cerise. She looked perky as always with her dark bobbed hair and lively brown eyes beneath horn-rimmed eyeglasses. “Were those things relations or varmints?” I took a cautious step over the threshold to escape the blustery weather and unbuttoned my corduroy jacket.

  “Oh, both, Aggie. Ghosts of witch kin and their talking animal familiars,” she said and moved past me to lift sheets off the sitting room furniture.

  I raised a brow, curious about what talking familiars were but was too afraid to ask. She didn’t seem to think they were bad, and I needed a place to stay.

  Cerise dropped the sheets in a pile and wiped her dusty hands on her skirt. “Those sorts of ghosts are in all the homes here in Coon Hollow Coven. Maybe some animal spirits, too, from the surrounding woods. This property has at least fifty acres of forest. The ghosts are harmless, part of the family. At least no neighbors have complained, that I’ve heard.”

  Eyeing corners of the parlor and the length of the hall, I wondered if I could ever get used to living with ghosts of people who’d lived here before. In New Wish, Indiana, where I’d spent my entire twenty years, we only had an occasional ghost. Usually lost souls who, for some reason, hadn’t found their peace before death took them. Most times, those folks had been tormented by darkness and experimented with black magic while they’d lived. Or so Mom told me, but I always thought that was just her way of keeping me in line.