Coon Hollow Coven Tales 1-3

by Marsha A. Moore

  Keir’s lids lifted to reveal glassy orbs. “Aggie, those three long bones radiating from a single point are three paths. You will have to choose one to follow.” He spoke with a flat voice, as if in a trance. “Three choices. One is correct. The others will bring harm to you and others for generations to follow.”

  His solemn words hit hard, like a thousand-pound backpack set on my shoulders. I drew nearer, my shaking hand braced on the arm of his chair. “What is the stone at the end of one path?” I hoped it would be a clue to the correct path.

  “That is your goal. What you must find.”

  I squinted, trying to discern more from the pattern. “What is it I need to find?”

  “It’s not for me to know. The gods chose not to reveal it to me.”

  As I stood, my arm brushed Keir’s, and he flinched.

  “Aggie, give me your hand.” His near white skin took on the ruddiness of an American Indian.

  The moment our hands joined, the coyote’s irises cast the same yellow glow as before.

  Keir closed his eyes. “Place your other hand on Waapake.”

  I hesitated, weighing fear and curiosity.

  “Don’t be afraid.” Keir’s voice was his own, not possessed but warm and supportive. “I’ll be with you.”

  “May I use my haptic sense?”

  “Yes. I want you to use it.”

  Encouraged, I tentatively touched the thick fur along Waapake’s back. The same feeling of security passed over me that I’d sensed earlier.

  Keir’s hand squeezed mine, sending reassurance but also pulling a stream of Waapake’s magic through me.

  I took a deep breath and submerged, allowing my curiosity about Waapake’s connection to my New Wish home to fuel my concentration. Eyes clamped tight, I admitted the images flowing through me into my mind, slowing their progression, bringing each into view.

  “Aggie, can you tell us what you see?” Keir asked.

  “I think so. I’ll try.” I licked my lips and tightened my eyes, as if any outside light would break the flow of visions. “I see another coyote, a slim female with lighter fur. Eating scraps from…my Gran’s porch. Yes, it’s Gran! And eating from her hand. Gran’s sitting in her porch rocker, smiling and laughing with the she-coyote howling at the stars. At the new crescent moon. At a waxing crescent. At the first quarter, Gran wraps a leather thong collar bearing a gold stone ’round the coyote’s neck. The animal licks Gran’s hand, then bounds into the woods. Endless woods, following a stream. Sun, then darkness, over and over. The full moon rises over a tall hill. The she-coyote stands on a large rock. Five pups yelping and leaping at the rock’s base. Only the darkest male can clamber to stand beside his mother. She touches him, nose to nose, and the pair sing to the moon.”

  The air around me felt suddenly cold, and I shivered. “A sharp, icy gust challenges their footing. They stand strong. Harsh winds batter them.” Words trembled from my mouth. “They howl louder. Their tone is so shrill.” My stomach churned, and I struggled to continue. “I know what’s next.” My fingers dug into Waapake’s fur as if he was keeping me alive. “The banshee. Pale, shrouded… tangled hair spills from her hood.” My voice slurred. “The she-coyote is growling. The pup growls loud…right at the banshee…till her hood drops. Hollow eye sockets glare from a cadaverous skull of maggot-ridden flesh. The pup shrinks back at the sight. Howls in pain. The demon’s cavernous mouth shrieks, ‘Bring her. I dare you.’”

  Beside me, Waapake growled a slur of words, “Take my mother’s golden beryl stone.”

  I screamed, my mind burning. My eyes flew open but didn’t see. I collapsed onto Waapake, fingers laced in his fur and curved around a smooth stone, thinking with his thoughts, breathing with his breath.

  Chapter Sixteen: Devil’s Shoestring

  On the corner near the Federal Bank, I scooted out of Cerise’s sedan, best I could with my knees bound close in a pencil skirt. Except for my stovepipe jeans and flannel shirts, this morning I’d tried on every outfit I owned twice, which didn’t take long. Fast as Shireen was with her magic, she’d gotten around to making or altering a week’s worth of blouses, skirts, and dresses. Everything fit perfectly, but the styles reflected a bygone era. I didn’t want to look like a freak compared to Jancie in her cute, modern clothes. Luckily, the sun had warmed the crisp morning air, so I didn’t need to wear my old jacket. Beside the car, I straightened the fitted waist of my bright pink cashmere sweater. At least the woolen garments hugged my curves, a plus when trying to look feminine for our mission of making Eric talk. I shouldered the bag and walked to the bank.

  With all that I’d learned from the coyote’s story—new responsibilities on my shoulders—I couldn’t take chances with my witchcraft powers. Since then, I’d maintained a careful balance of moon and sun energies. Lunar bathing at my window seat last night and a walk in the morning sunshine, along with cups of wintergreen tea, kept my hexed leg to a dull ache. However, those precautions did little to ease my nerves. For whatever good, I placed Gran’s amber in my skirt pocket and wrapped and added the unfinished wand to my backpack. I wore the thong of golden beryl from Waapake around my wrist and peeked at it often for changes. With all this and my own sun power, something had to work. I hoped.

  Inside the revolving door, I met Jancie in the small lobby. “Hi, Aggie.” She turned toward an open office. “Let me get my purse.” Her work clothes, a white blouse, slim black pants, and fitted pale gray jacket, made her look a few years older than when she’d worn the mini-skirt the night before. She returned and motioned me toward the door. “You look nice.”

  I shrugged. “Shireen made me these since I don’t have many clothes. I have to do a couple errands for her while I’m in town. The only way she’d let me out of work today. I wish I could wear clothes like yours sometimes, though. Especially since I’m not a member of this coven. I love it there and want to be accepted, but would like to try other new things, too.”

  Her long, red hair flowing behind her, Jancie waved goodbye to a female teller. “I’ll be back to close.” She continued to me as we pressed through the turnstile. “But some of those old styles are so pretty. I’ve been wanting to have Shireen make me a few outfits for times Rowe and I attend coven events. All I have is a velvet cloak and an evening gown, things Cerise gave me.”

  “You have the best of both worlds,” I said. “Living here in town with a great job and being a part of the coven.”

  Walking along the sidewalk, she laughed out loud. “Well, I’m not so sure they’d have accepted me if I hadn’t removed their evil priestess.”

  I gave her a twisted grin. “It seems like it’ll take that much for them to accept me. Did she leave the coven?”

  “I think so. Most believe she died in the battle we had at the Mabon ceremony. I’m not sure though since it only happened a few weeks ago.”

  “Wow! So Logan is really new to his job?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but don’t worry. He’ll find ways to keep you safe. With Keir and Rowe, the three make a great team. And Logan likes you a lot.”

  I beamed. “He’s so hot.”

  As we reached a quiet stretch of sidewalk, Jancie linked her arm in mine and said in a hushed voice, “How do you feel after last night? You were in bad shape. I half expected you to cancel today.”

  “I feel fine. Amazing, considering when I pulled away from Waapake’s memories, it felt like he was breathing for me, keeping me alive. But I slept great. No spirits, empowered or not, bothered me.”

  “Maybe what Keir said about how beryl protects the wearer from telepathic manipulation is true then.”

  I synced my stride with hers. “That’s what I’m thinking, or at least it makes me feel safer.”

  “His coyote’s story blew me away.”

  “I know. Unreal.” I nodded. “And how the gem’s aligned with my sun element. I keep checking the stone to see if it’ll do something strange. So far, nothing.”

  “I’d be watching that beryl so much, I�
��d probably bump into things. It’s like Waapake revealed your destiny. You were chosen to stand up to that banshee for whatever reason. Maybe to break the curse.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “That about scares the shit out of me.”

  “Me too.” She squeezed my arm. “We’re all watching your back.”

  “Thanks, lots. I’m really glad for your support.”

  Jancie slowed in front of a beauty salon. “Hair first, or your errands for Shireen?”

  “Definitely hair.” I studied the window posters of glamorous models.

  “I’m just getting my regular trim.” She held the door open for me, and I wrinkled my nose at the cat-piss odor of hair dyes. “But you do whatever you want.”

  “Do you have any hairstyle suggestions for me?” I stepped inside, and she followed.

  “Maybe some layers?”

  At the front desk, a bleached blonde girl with prominent lime green streaks grinned and asked my name. “Such pretty natural blonde hair. Joelle will be with you right away. And Jancie, Donna will be done soon for you.”

  Jancie took one of the three vinyl seats in the small waiting area. Behind the desk, two women moved around three stations, arranging supplies and sweeping cut hair from the black and white tiled floor.

  One of them, in her mid-thirties with flesh rolling and spilling from a too-tight black dress, descended upon me. Long earrings tangled amidst shoulder-length strands of weird jet-black hair that looked dyed. “I’m Joelle. What can I do for you, honey? That blonde of yours looks like the real deal.” She herded me to an open chair.

  “A cut, to about the middle of my back, with layers.” I secured my pack on a nearby shelf, then settled myself as she draped me in a body apron.

  She pulled out my ponytail elastic and combed her fingers through my hair. “Don’t think you’re wantin’ layers. Blonde hair’s usually too fine to hold up that way. How ’bout some taperin’ in the front?”

  “Tapering?”

  I watched in the mirror while she demonstrated an angled cut using her fingers as scissors.

  I took the opportunity to use my haptics on Joelle, who turned out to be sincere, despite being bored with her job.

  “Well?” She prompted. “Iffen that’s not enough, we can add some fun color like mine…blue or purple, whatever you like.”

  “Okay for the cut. Not sure about the color.”

  She whirled my chair around and guided me to lean my head back into the sink. “We can do non-permanent color that’ll wash out in a week or so. You think on it.”

  The warm water on my scalp relaxed me. Although I’d slept well, my mind raced, frantic to piece together Waapake’s vision with what had happened over the last week. For a luxurious few minutes, I let it all go to the fragrant floral suds. Sweet peas after a summer rain swished around my ears. It wasn’t until I caught a glimpse of eight-inch lengths of hair falling down my apron that I jolted back to total alertness.

  “Ouch! Lord, what shocked me?” Joelle sputtered and took a step back.

  Almost perceptible magical sparks crackled at my newly-cut ends. To distract the stylist from the pinpoint bursts of light, I offered her a quick explanation. “With the recent cold nights, I’ve been having some bad static lately. That’s probably it.”

  She reached for a spray bottle on her shelf. “This here’s a great product for static. If it seems to work, I’ll send you home with a bottle at half off.” Her minty spray drizzled my head and face. Then she blasted me with hot air from the dryer.

  I scrunched my eyes and forced my sun energy deep inside, along with unending worries about the banshee.

  Tired from holding everything in, my face muscles hurt and my ears rang.

  “All done, honey.” She gave me a hand mirror and turned my chair around. “You wantin’ any highlights or lowlights?”

  “No. Maybe later. Thanks.” I wanted a purple streak, but didn’t think I could keep my magic in line much longer. I slunk from the big chair, paid my bill in a daze, and allowed Jancie to lead me outside.

  “That took a while, but you look so cool,” Jancie said. “I love it!”

  After a quick check to make sure no one watched us, I exhaled long and slow while a shower of gold sparks from my hair sizzled dry leaves on the pavement. I met her open-mouthed expression. “Nerves.”

  “No doubt. Can’t blame you. Do you feel like eating now?” Jancie’s blown-out hair shone in the midday sun.

  “Yeah. Something light. I’m ready to get on with our plan.” I glanced at my reflection in a shop window. “My hair does look good.” I grinned at Jancie and glanced at the pizza place across the street. The door to Mama’s Pizzeria never closed. A constant stream of people entered and left. “Must be a popular lunch spot. Let’s go.”

  “People like their fast service. Logan said you met Eric when you went with Cerise and Toby’s family to have dinner there…” Her voice trailed off, as if she held back on saying more.

  Curious, I linked arms again to use my haptics. She did know more, in fact everything about my encounter with Eric. I jerked free. Many New Wish witches could use haptics. Jancie might be able to read me. “How do you know those things?”

  “I ran into Cerise at the bank yesterday afternoon. She told me what’d happened. I’m sorry if I intruded.”

  “No, it’s just that…” I stammered. “I don’t want Logan to know.”

  “No problem. Nothing much happened, but the attraction might help you get those pranks on your cabin stopped.”

  I wedged inside the restaurant and stood next to a tiny table for two, while a busboy cleaned the top. Even more than when I’d been there before, the place was alive in every way, with people, noise, and delicious smells of tomato and basil.

  I leaned into Jancie, “In this crowd, how will we get Eric’s attention?”

  “Come on. You look great with that new haircut. He’ll notice.” She grinned as we took seats, and I secured my backpack at my feet.

  A young female waitress slid menus and napkins our way before scurrying off to the next table.

  Unable to concentrate on the selections, I checked the area behind the counter.

  Eric dashed from the kitchen carrying a tray full of food. His brown hair curled more than I’d remembered, probably from the heat in the busy kitchen. He scanned the dining area, and our eyes locked. He released the tray too high above the counter. It landed with a clatter so loud the noise in the room quieted a few decibels. Encouraged by his reaction, I relaxed my shoulders.

  Jancie shot me a smug grin.

  With a scowl, the waitress waved Eric’s shaky hands away. She reassembled the rattled tray, balanced it securely on one hand, and twisted into the crowd.

  Eric wiped his brow with a paper towel and wandered out from behind the counter. As he made a path for our table, he stopped to say hello to various customers, as if trying to appear nonchalant and cover up his mishap. I couldn’t help but notice how his tight jeans fit his tiny butt oh so good. Why was I even noticing? Logan was a great catch, so why check out someone else?

  Eric turned from the table beside ours and said in a polite but trembling tone, “Hi, Aggie. You got your hair cut. Looks great.” He glanced at me, then lowered his gaze. “And Jancie. Nice to see you lovely ladies here.” He sneaked another glance, which gave me courage to be blunt.

  “What were you and your friends doing at my house Tuesday night?” Bolder with my new hairstyle, I fixed my sight on him.

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then looked around the room.

  Jancie snapped the menu closed, which redirected his attention back to our table.

  “Oh, I’ll be glad to take your order since Jeannie hasn’t gotten back to you.” He rummaged in his pocket for an order pad.

  We both sat silent, my question hanging heavy in the air and contrasting sharply with the sweet saucy aromas. If I could only touch him somehow, my haptics might reveal what I wanted to know.

  “Wh
atever you want. My treat.” His voice quavered, and a muscle along the angle of his square jaw spasmed. “What looks good?”

  Jancie set her gaze on him. “Thanks, Eric. I’ll have a small meatball calzone with a side salad.”

  My eyes tightened into a glare. “I’m still waiting for an answer.”

  “I’m at work,” he mumbled under his breath. “I’ll explain another time.”

  Questioning him failed, but did make him nervous…and me, too. I hurriedly skimmed the salad section, my eyes only catching occasional words. Hoping to contact his hand when he picked up the menus, I edged my arm closer to where Jancie’s lay. “I’ll have a Caesar salad with breadsticks.” I whipped my menu on top of the other and bumped Eric’s hand. I held my breath. Could I get a complex reading with a touch that lasted only a couple seconds? I tuned out the room’s dense chatter.

  “Great. I’ll get those out to you ASAP.” Eric’s hand brushed mine. In that instant, I discovered emotions of guilt, regret, and reluctance. Easy reads I’d done in milliseconds before, but I needed more—images or connected thoughts. I dove my haptics deeper, clinging onto the lingering sensation as his skin moved away. An image hit me. A woman with long, straggly hair dressed in a ragged dark skirt and cloak, her hand braced against a chimney.

  Eric slipped away through the maze of tables, and the image in my mind faded.

  I leaned over our table and relayed my reading to Jancie.

  “Did it look like the banshee in Waapake’s vision stream? she asked.

  I shook my head. “No. That looked hollow and ghastly like death. This was a real woman.”

  “Maybe one of the haunted carriage-house actors?”

  “Seems possible, but what does that mean?”

  She shrugged and removed an amber jar from her purse. Small enough to conceal in her palm, she passed it to me. “Rub a piece of this in your hands, and when Eric delivers our food, it’ll make him talk.”

  I opened the lid and grimaced at the bitter odor. “You’ve gotta be kidding. The smell alone’ll drive him off. What is it?”

  She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Devil’s shoestring root. Used to get what you want out of people or situations.”