Coon Hollow Coven Tales 1-3

by Marsha A. Moore

  “Thanks,” I called after her. As soon as she descended the porch steps, I spun to face the black and white framed photo.

  “Are we alone?” the former shop owner croaked with a low, husky voice, her eyes darting from side to side. “Don’t want to talk in front of customers, or my daughter. She’d tell me I was bein’ a busybody.”

  “Yes. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about—”

  “Me, too,” she snapped. “Where’ve you been?”

  “I took yesterday off to do errands and follow up on some pranks that’ve been happening at Cerise’s homestead.”

  “You’ve got a lot on your plate, gal. I sensed that the moment you walked in, long before I found out you were livin’ in the old Flanagan place. I’ve been doin’ some diggin’ on clues myself. But it don’t take anything for me to know you’re a kindred spirit with witchcraft not so far off from my own. Look at what you did to make those jackets fit the owner. That was my trick to best the competition, something my daughter never caught on to.”

  “I was glad to make Kandice happy. What I really need to know is what happened between Ned Murdock and Margaret O’Mara before her wedding.”

  “Best you pull up a chair. That’s a long story.”

  Fidgety with so many unanswered questions, I preferred to stand. But chose not to disagree with someone who might help me learn more about the curse. I moved the desk stool to a spot in front of the picture and took a perch.

  Hypatia hesitated, then began, her words slow and measured. “It’s not just ’bout Ned and Maggie. It’s ’bout their families. First off, what do you know about the curse and the banshee?”

  “That when an O’Mara marries a Flanagan, a banshee bonds to the family and escorts souls of the recently deceased to another world. When Margaret’s mother Eleanor married Jude Flanagan, that started everything. Her mother and grandmother had warned her and tried to talk her out of the marriage.”

  “True, but in the case here in our coven, it played out much worse. A family being bonded to a banshee isn’t too out of the ordinary. A banshee’s frightenin’ to look at no doubt, but most times just a peaceful servant of death. However, the O’Mara banshee became cursed with evil.”

  I tilted my head.

  “And I know most all of it, bein’ friends with Maggie since we were children. Rather than the typical gentle escort, the designated banshee turned out to be malevolent. When Maggie and me were in grade school, her great grandma passed. Maggie, her mother Ellie, and Granny Dodie, were all there when the banshee ripped the soul from the woman’s body, not even waitin’ for her last breath to finish.” Her face contorted, and she hung her head.

  “How horrible.” The image of the banshee I’d seen in Waapake’s vision shot into the forefront of my mind. I grimaced, imagining that grotesque form preying upon a dying old woman.

  “Maggie had nightmares for years.”

  I shuddered. “I can imagine.”

  “You’ve seen that demon, haven’t you?” Hypatia’s eyes bugged wide at me. “It’s like Maggie said; she thinks there’s a reason you’ve come to live in her homeplace.”

  “You talked to Maggie? Recently?” My foot slipped off the rung of the stool, and I grabbed the end of a clothes rack to keep from falling. “Aren’t you tied to this house and she in the cabin?”

  “We can be either in our homes, or at the coven cemetery. Took some doin’, but I got her to meet me there.”

  “That’s why you were gone from the picture?”

  She nodded. “With Botilda Murdock’s magic clingin’ to my daughter’s cat, combined with how it attacked you, I knew things were amiss.” She exhaled a breath through clenched teeth. “Still don’t know all the details. Maggie’s not in her right mind, always. Moody. I think it’s from all the dream magic she did. Lost track of the difference ’tween reality and dreams. Can’t say I blame her though, with that curse plaguin’ her family. She worked day and night to protect her loved ones. Did all she could, but couldn’t lessen the evil of that banshee’s attempts.”

  I found my seat again. “Why is this banshee crueler than others?”

  “Most believe it was ’cause the O’Maras comin’ from the old country to Coon Hollow late, in the early twenties, set off some founding families who arrived during the late 1800s. Latecomers, even those who arrived before the coven’s founding in the early thirties, were under pressure to conform. Wouldn’t been nothin’ at all if the three O’Mara women and little Fenton would’ve tried to fit in more. But the O’Mara women kept to themselves and didn’t share their crafts or try to learn from others. Made matters worse that the set were experts in oneiromancy. Do you know what that is?”

  “Yes, but hold on a sec. I need a notebook to write all this down.” I darted to the desk, grabbed a pen and pad of paper, and zipped back to my perch. After hurriedly scratching notes about the details of Hypatia’s story, I replied, “Okay. I know a little. It’s dream magic. Eartha, our main elder back in New Wish, where I’m from, does some of that. She studies all sorts of magic. Rare stuff from all over.”

  “Keepin’ notes. Smart girl. I do like you, Aggie. Knew I would from the start. Even if you are from the grand old coven of New Wish. Oneiromancy’s rare all right. An’ that made the founders of the coven even more angry, ’cause they wanted that magic for their own.”

  I squinted and bit the pen’s cap. “I still don’t get it. How did the banshee bonded to Maggie’s family become cursed?”

  “Well, no one’s fer sure on that, but a few folk weren’t above using dark magic. Our long-standin’ coven leaders, the Tabards, had hearts black as coal, and that encouraged like actions from others who were in positions of power and untouchable. Botilda Murdock included, though her dark deeds happened years after the curse was altered. Only torturin’ old souls who now remain as house spirits or in the cemetery would reveal who did the deed. But to be sure, someone bearing a grudge for not getting the O’Mara’s oneiromancy set black magic into that banshee. If Dodie and Ellie had just used their dream magic to better the community…” Hypatia’s voice trailed off, and she hugged her upper arms. “Even as a girl, Maggie tried her best to warn her ma and grandma, but they wouldn’t hear of it. Said the witches in Coon Hollow weren’t capable. They paid for their stubbornness with that black curse.”

  A thought popped into my mind, and I sat straighter. “I do know that Maggie’s soul remains as a house spirit, but her mother’s and grandmother’s don’t. Why is that?”

  “True enough. Been doin’ your homework. I like that.” She shot me a grin, then continued. “Seein’ the horrible death of her great grandma, Maggie swore to me that she’d find a way to stop that from happenin’ again. She studied her mother’s craft harder than any of us learnin’ our magic lessons. A gal on a mission fer sure. Got so good that she became able to move souls into dreams. She started with animals, workin’ for years on the technique till she was sure. Then when Ellie miscarried a child, she begged Maggie to keep the little one’s soul from the death demon. Maggie locked the babe’s spirit into the simple yet safe world of the infant’s dreams. An’ it worked, or at least the banshee came at the house with a fierce chill wind but never entered.”

  “Cool! No wonder the rest of the coven wanted that magic.”

  “Not only was Maggie a sharp study with her witchcraft schoolin’, but she learned from her mother’s and grandma’s mistakes. Unlike them, she found ways to help the ailing in the community with her dream magic. She regularly eased cases of repeatin’ nightmares, cured mental ailments of shock and depression, and used dream therapy to lessen perceptions of pain. That all put her in demand and also in high standin’ in the coven. That’s why, when she passed, her soul achieved enough to become empowered, unlike the other O’Mara women.”

  “This makes me think I need to get more involved with the community if I’m to be accepted.” I doodled along the margin of the open page, my mind wandering to what I could do.

  “It’d
be a good idea.” She pursed her lips. “You heard what those two customers said. Both influential women here. Best to show everyone you’re willin’ to help.”

  “I’ll come up with some other possibilities. Maybe some volunteer work. Cerise would know about that.” I scribbled a reminder. “What happened to Ellie’s and Dodie’s souls when they died? Was Maggie able to protect her mother and grandmother?”

  Hypatia’s face lit with a smile. “The culmination of her life’s work. She saved their souls to dream-worlds of their choosin’. The coven honored Maggie’s amazing success by allowin’ those souls to remain in the cemetery. Though they’re locked in dreams and can’t interact directly like empowered souls. Have to be invited back.”

  I’d never been to the cemetery, but must go now. Maybe I can find a way to communicate with Dodie and Ellie. They might have information I could use to defeat the banshee. “In New Wish, we didn’t interact with the spirit world. I need to learn more. Since I’m not a coven member, can I visit the cemetery and see these spirits?”

  “You bein’ a newcomer, an outsider, I’d suggest you go along with a member.”

  That label again. A knot formed in my stomach and my cheeks went slack.

  “Don’t let that stop you.” Hypatia waved a hand toward me. “You’re a spunky gal. You might learn some clues that’ll help solve your issues with the banshee.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking, too.” Not only did Hypatia’s information make me curious, but also what Eric said about Dulcie Quinn. That night when she got spooked while playing the role of a banshee, she walked to the cemetery under a trance or spell. After that, she’d apparently told people they could find zombies on the homestead property. Whether she believed it, or whether the facts were true or not, I didn’t know. I stared off into the room, trying to fit puzzle pieces together. The still-running, enchanted pocket watch made no sense. Nor did anything about Fenton. I thought learning more would calm my nerves, but instead my stomach churned even harder over the dangling clues. I faced Hypatia. “What about Fenton? Why didn’t Maggie save his soul to his dreams?”

  She shrugged. “Not entirely sure. You’ll have to ask Maggie. My guess is that he may not have had enough of his own witchcraft to create the dream path she needed. Or he refused her help.” She chuckled and spewed a raspy retort, “He’s a stubborn SOB.”

  “Oh, I know that.” I joined her with a forced laugh.

  “Phew! You’ve ’bout wore out my tongue today. Haven’t talked this much since…well, night before last when I visited all my old friends at the cemetery. What a time that was.” She tipped her head back. “Should get there more often, but I’m needed here, what with keepin’ my daughter runnin’ the shop right, an’ with you being attacked by Botilda. That reminds me, I never answered your first question, ’bout Ned at Maggie’s wedding.”

  I started a new page with the heading of “Murdock” and sat ready with pen poised.

  “Well, Botilda did all she could to stop her son Ned from havin’ a crush on Maggie. To end it once and fer all, she framed him as the one who cast a dreadful spell upon Maggie’s weddin’ dress. The conniving woman made him the messenger to this very shop of mine. Told him a lie ’bout her spell, that it’d stop his love from marryin’ another. Truth was, just as Botilda intended, he caught the blame for settin’ one of the darkest spells Coon Hollow has ever known. Ned broke into the shop the night before the ceremony and cast his mother’s spell that she’d tied to his suspender. All’s he had to do was tie up the gown with his suspender. Livin’ above my shop, I woke as Ned stumbled out. But with the weddin’ day excitement, I didn’t recognize the spell as his mother’s. All’s I could make out about the magic was that the dress I’d made would now bleed red from miscarriages Maggie would have durin’ her marriage…the moment she said her vows. Written on the suspender were the words ‘in exchange for the banshee’s rightful souls.’”

  “Ugh, the Murdocks are hideous.” I shook my head, trying to remove the ugly image.

  “They are. Hot with anger, I didn’t tell Maggie. Didn’t want to spoil her and Todd’s big day. Luckily, like you with Shireen’s garments, I’d already put a spell in place to keep the dress pure white. That kept the dark magic from penetratin’, and made it easily removable. In retaliation, I cast a spell on Ned. Still today, every time Ned has a mean or lascivious thought about a female, his skin changes color. I set it to be grass green, which it was durin’ the entire weddin’. Botilda couldn’t reverse my spell, only lessened it to make Ned’s skin a jaundice-yellow.” She laughed so hard, her bun shook loose and waves of black hair spilled outside the picture frame.

  A wave of nausea hit my stomach, and I folded my arms around my middle, notebook clutched in one hand. “Oh, geeze. I’ve seen his face turn yellow when talking to me.”

  “So, for that, Botilda is my nemesis for time eternal.”

  “I know you’re tired, but do you mind a couple more questions?” I held my breath, afraid she’d refuse.

  “Go on. I’ll rest better havin’ I’ve helped you.”

  “Do you know anything about an O’Mara family keepsake that holds a lot of magic?” I put pen to paper on a new page.

  “Only that Ellie created it. Sorry. I only know what Maggie did, not so much ’bout her mother.”

  After learning so much, the dead end froze my thoughts, left them as empty as the blank page balanced on my knee. I scratched my pen in a hard, straight line across the pure white paper and sent the pad flying to the floor.

  “You had one more question?” Hypatia asked.

  “Yes. Why am I involved in this curse?” I related Waapake’s vision where I’d seen the banshee and been chosen to fight it.

  Hypatia narrowed her eyes and said in a grave tone, “I knew you’d seen that death demon. It’s in the fire of your eyes. From your kind o’ magic, I doubt anyone other than me can see it in you though. Maggie an’ I discussed this. We believe you’re attached to this curse ’cause you’re an outsider livin’ in the homestead, the first since the O’Mara women.”

  Chapter Nineteen: In the Spider’s Web

  I hopped out of bed before dawn on Saturday morning. Both Hypatia’s information and my bonfire spells had strengthened me. While I washed my face, any remaining worries trickled down the bathroom sink drain. Good thing, since today I’d have no time for them.

  Toby had arranged to give me my first driving lesson this afternoon. Provided I got my work done to Shireen’s satisfaction, I could leave the dress shop early. Being able to drive would be a huge step in gaining the independence I wanted. Maybe we could go past the cemetery during our lesson, since I needed to spend time there searching for more clues.

  Afterward, I intended to visit the carriage house and volunteer to do odd jobs. I’d lain awake last night thinking about Hypatia’s warning. In order to break the curse, I needed to avoid consequences the O’Mara women faced. While I mulled over possibilities, the house creaked and groaned with the doings of house spirits. While that indicated at least temporary safety from the banshee, I hadn’t been able to find Fenton or Maggie. Their absence kept me alert to every sound until I finally dozed with the comfort of moonlight spilling into my room.

  Despite lack of sleep, adrenaline powered me onward to meet the day. I hurriedly dressed for work and raced downstairs, wand and messenger bag in one hand while tucking my blouse into my skirt with the other. In the kitchen, I rubbed my wand with another coat of lemon oil, wrapped it and stowed it in my bag. The wand, Waapake’s stone tied to my wrist, and Gran’s amber were three things I didn’t want to be without. I inhaled a blueberry muffin that tasted more like lemon from the fragrance still on my fingers and washed it down with last night’s cold wintergreen tea.

  When Cerise’s tinny car horn tooted, I ran outside and hopped into the passenger seat.

  “Toby will pick you up at three. Is that still okay?” she asked as she pulled from the driveway.

  “I’ll be ready. I can’t
wait.” I shifted in my seat like a restless child eager for Christmas. “Will he bring his car or the one in my barn?”

  “Yours, since it’s what you’ll be driving. He spent yesterday morning working on it and declared it in running order.”

  Unable to sit still, I fidgeted with the straps of my bag. “Do you know how I can do some volunteer work in the coven?”

  She raised a well-groomed brow and shot me a glance. “Of course, but why the sudden interest?”

  “I don’t want to end up like the O’Mara women who were punished for not fitting in. The banshee who bonded to the family upon Ellie’s marriage was later cursed to become a vicious demon rather than a peaceful death servant.”

  She slowed the car and looked at me. “What are you talking about? My mother was an O’Mara until she married. No one treated her badly.”

  “Not her. Ellie and Dodie, your grandmother and great grandmother. They wouldn’t help the coven with the oneiromancy magic they’d learned in the old country. Some coven members were mad about that and used dark magic against them. When Ellie married a Flanagan, a banshee attached to your family. Someone turned that attachment evil, which caused the banshee to rip souls from bodies before death.”

  Cerise’s eyes widened. “That can’t be true. This must be some cruel joke of the Murdocks. They’re mean to everyone.”

  “More likely the Tabards. The curse is older than Botilda’s anger against your mother.”

  “No. That can’t be true.” She smacked the steering wheel and pulled to the side of the road. “I’ve never heard about any curse on my family. I did know about the banshee bonded to the family. That’s not so unusual. And I always thought Fenton might be in trouble since he didn’t gain his empowerment… but not my mother and grandmother. Who told you this?” I knew Cerise had heard rumors of a curse before. Considering her disbelief, Maggie must’ve kept the details from her daughter.

  “Hypatia Meiklam. I talked with her at work yesterday.”