Coon Hollow Coven Tales 1-3

by Marsha A. Moore

“Seems likely.”

  “I thought I’d practice more with my wand to get better coordinated before I try to channel power into the keepsake again. Even in one day, I’ve progressed into compound spells with the wand.”

  His brows lifted. “That’s great and probably a good idea. Don’t hesitate to get in touch with Tyne though, if you have questions. He’ll be glad to help.”

  “He’s something.” I closed the box lid and replaced it in the desk. “I could spend days in his shop learning about all those magical tools. I’d love to try out a few.”

  “Next time you’re there, ask him. I’d bet he’d be thrilled to see what his toys could do under your powers.”

  I pulled our dinner from the sacks and arranged the food onto plates. “You know Tyne well. What are some of your favorites in his collection?”

  Logan’s eyes shone bright cobalt as he told about a dagger with a sapphire hilt that could change water to ice or ice to steam under control of a strong water witch.

  My bite of Babbett’s chicken transformed from spicy to cool ranch to sagey to extra crispy and back again. Along with that experience, hearing Logan’s tall tales about the magical tools made my senses whirl as if on an exciting rollercoaster ride.

  When we’d cleaned out all the chicken and corn, with only a couple biscuits remaining, Logan stood. “Wish I could stay, but I have to go to work.”

  I wished he could stay longer, too. Everything had been so crazy lately, and our time together so short. I saw him to the door, where we embraced for a quick kiss.

  “I don’t know if I’ll have time to stop by tomorrow. We have a lot of repairs to do after this long weekend.”

  “After I get home, I’ll come over to help out and, hopefully, make some new friends,” I said.

  “Great! I’ll get to see the prettiest woman in Coon Hollow. Of course, we could use the help. Nineteen days until Samhain and open every night now.”

  “Do you have a ceremony to plan, too, now that you’re high priest?” I asked.

  He brushed blond curls from his forehead. “I have a team that carries out my requests for that project. But it’ll be our first time working together, so I expect some bumps, especially since we’ve got a waning moon.”

  I watched him stride across the lawn, then returned to worrying about the bumps in my own path.

  ***

  The workweek slid by in one long blur. Each day as soon as I got home from the dress shop, I changed clothes and volunteered at the carriage house. I solidified my friendships with several women, but Dulcie’s crowd whispered and laughed behind my back every chance they found.

  When the patrons arrived, I left for home, sometimes with a kiss from Logan but most times only a wave. He was clearly stressed getting ready for Samhain, and so was I preparing to break the curse. I’d gobble a quick meal, whatever I could find, and set to work with my wand practice. I planned to make another attempt at channeling into the keepsake on the weekend. In case I had the same reaction as before, I couldn’t sleep round the clock and miss work. Shireen needed me to prepare for her busiest season, with Yule and gift-giving around the corner.

  The waning moon taxed my efforts to learn new witchcraft. I doubled my intake of wintergreen and spent lunch breaks absorbing sun energy to stay strong. Intense wand training sucked out every bit. Each evening, I dropped into bed earlier. My dreams wove in and out of places I’d been recently: the babbling stream along Nannan’s trail, the pungent carpets of thyme and sweet songs from statues in the cemetery, the wildflower meadow of Ellie’s world. In each location, I got to know the inhabitants. A host of fish, beetles, and deer became my regular nighttime friends.

  Wednesday night, the ringing phone on my bedside woke me from a deep sleep. I squinted at the clock. “Only nine?” I croaked a hello into the receiver. The last quarter moon shone across my bed.

  “Hi, Aggie. It’s Eric.”

  Silence pressed on my brain, a gulf of thoughtlessness I couldn’t span. Who was Eric? Recognition of him at the pizza parlor registered. “Eric. Hi.”

  “Did I get you up?” His voice sounded tentative.

  “No. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch Saturday.”

  “Um.” I raked my mind for credible excuses to say no. I was happy with Logan and didn’t want to mess that up. “I have to work till one and have a driving lesson in the afternoon.”

  He hesitated, then blurted out, “My friends went back to the carriage house and learned more about the zombies. Thought you’d want to know.”

  I wadded the blanket with my free hand. That information could help, but Eric’s price was too great. If I wanted to stay with Logan, I needed to avoid encouraging other guys. “Wow! What happened?” I paused, hoping he’d cave and tell me now.

  He sighed. “It’d be better to get together.”

  He clearly wouldn’t cross the line I’d drawn, so I resorted to compromise. “Can I meet you at a restaurant?”

  “Sure. That works.” His voice rang louder. “How about at Dairy Queen at one-thirty?”

  I’d been wanting to go there, but I stifled my enthusiasm. It might give him the wrong idea. “That’s fine, but this is just lunch and not a date. Right?”

  “Right. It’ll be great to hang out. See you then.”

  After hanging up, I made a mental note to tell Logan about this no matter how hard it would be, then flopped back onto the bed.

  An hour later, I woke with a gasp from a dream where councilwoman Gladys Blinkhorne’s face emerged from a cloud of black smoke.

  ***

  Before leaving work Saturday afternoon for lunch, I changed my flared skirt to a pair of skinny jeans. My goal: to tempt information out of Eric. I reapplied lipstick in the bathroom mirror and put on earrings and a pendant. My tan crewneck sweater was fitted enough to encourage without revealing more than I intended.

  At the register, Shireen looked up from her receipt book. Her dark eyes twinkled at me as I passed. “A good week. More sales than last. And the stack of special orders for gift items with your magic touch doubled. Folks are gettin’ the Yule-bug already.”

  “Yep. I’m glad people like my garments. I’m heading into Bentbone. You need anything?”

  “I just placed an order for pellon stiffening and shoulder pads. Should be fine if they arrive in time. Have a good weekend. See you bright and early Monday morning.”

  “You, too.” As I opened the front door, its ringing bells seemed to sing “cheater, cheater, cheater.” I looked back at Shireen, but with her salt and pepper head buried in the books, she didn’t appear to notice. Heat surged up my neck. I closed the door gently to keep the tattletale bells quiet. What house spirit resided there? And how did he or she know where I was going?

  I pulled into a parking spot behind Dairy Queen, hoping to hide my long sedan from view in case the sheriff might spot the car and want to see my driving permit, which I didn’t have.

  Inside, Eric met me at the door. “You look pretty.”

  I bit my lower lip and allowed Eric to see me eying his muscled chest on display in a tight-fitting long sleeve t-shirt tucked into low slung jeans. His wavy brown hair was tousled to touchable perfection. He’d dressed to impress, as expected and part of my plan. I flashed him a smile, and a pang of guilt hit me, but I needed his information to keep the coven safe.

  I focused past him to the menu above the order counter. The burger descriptions all tempted me, but I settled on the “flame thrower” with pepper jack cheese, jalapenos, and fiery special sauce. That might come in handy to keep Eric at a safe distance. I placed my order with a gum-popping teenage girl whose smile gleamed with a mouthful of metal braces.

  Before I could pay her, Eric pressed against my side and said, “I’ve got it. My treat.”

  I took my time easing over to the pick-up counter. This lunch was starting well. When my sandwich and fries arrived, I snatched the tray, and made for the drink
machine that seemed to be the next destination of people in line ahead of me. Packed with hungry tourists in town to see the spectacular display of autumn foliage, this wasn’t the best time to learn how to work the formidable soft drink wall. Nerves pounded a deafening rhythm against my eardrums, obstructing my attempts to observe how others worked the machine. Desperate to keep control and not rely on Eric for help, I eyed the last in line before me. The young girl placed a cup under shoots that dropped ice and poured pop so fast, I suspected her of being an air witch propelled by wind.

  I stepped up to take my turn and tried to copy what the girl had done. My brain lagged behind a few long seconds until I comprehended the label marked “ice.” Finally, with drink lidded and on my tray, I headed to one of the few open tables and took a seat.

  As Eric sat in the opposite chair, I grinned and unwrapped my sandwich. As a sun witch, I could endure far spicier foods than most people, mortals or witches. My little brother, who always wanted to best me, learned the hard way not to challenge me to a jalapeno-eating contest. This burger, packed with hot peppers, brought a smile to my lips. At the first juicy bite, spiciness twitched my nose. My taste buds wrapped around the heat. I swallowed the greasy deliciousness and chased it with a couple fries. My defensive strategy in place, I looked over to Eric. “What did your friends learn about zombies?”

  He swallowed and leaned close. “They talked to two witches working at the haunted house, Dulcie and Rissa. They said on nights of the moon phases, whatever that means, a few witches were raising the dead. Must’ve been what the guys saw that one night at your place.” He paused for a huge bite of his chicken sandwich, while I hung on the edge of my seat waiting for him to continue.

  I mentally ticked through the past few weeks. The first quarter moon had risen in the early morning hours the night I caught Eric and his friends making noise outside my house. And at last week’s full Hunter’s moon, the rough ground and fresh yew potion supported his information. My mind reeled at how the dots connected, but why would someone want to raise a dead body on my property? Unable to wait longer, I leaned in. “Well?”

  He must’ve known how he cute he was with those dimples, killer smile and puppy dog brown eyes. I bet he enjoyed this little game of withholding information. Maybe he thought if I’d spend enough time with him that I’d cave to his charms.

  I sat back against my chair, determined to get the rest out of him. He could work for my attention.

  After a slurp of his pop, he said, “Dulcie explained how she was an actress playing a banshee and loved seeing the real one so she could improve her act.” He paused once more for a handful of fries.

  Not so easily played this time, I feigned disinterest, easy enough since I didn’t care about what personally interested Dulcie. I took a bite of my own sandwich and gazed across the room.

  While I ignored him, he moved in with his hand rubbing my arm on the table.

  I immediately drew it away and scratched my head to make it appear natural.

  “Why don’t you and I go check it out? They were doing it in the woods out back, something about tempting a real banshee. That’s all Mike told me, but it sounds cool, doesn’t it?”

  To escape responding, I took a big bite of my burger and the peppery fire kindled my own. Sun energy twitched under my skin. Witches were using black magic behind my house to draw the banshee to me, to Fenton, or most likely both. I pictured Gladys Blinkhorne and her councilwoman crony Viola Plackstone. And Ned Murdock certainly knew too much. I considered others who’d treated me with disdain at the carriage house and at the coven gathering-hall party. Faces without names stirred from my memory and sizzled along my spine.

  “How can you eat that flame thrower without even taking a drink?” Eric’s voice jerked me from my thoughts. “My buddy Mike can’t even do that, and he loves Mexican.”

  I glanced at the burger in my hands. Only a couple bites remained. I’d forgotten my spicy burger plan, but Eric stepped right into it, which turned out better and eased my guilt. “It’s not that hot…and really good. Do you want a taste?” I offered a pepper dripping with sauce.

  He took the bait and put the jalapeno in his mouth. His eyes widened and watered. He sucked down the rest of his pop and begged for mine.

  “Sure, here. I’m finished and need to get back for my driving lesson.” I stood and gathered my bag. “Thanks for lunch.”

  His face still on fire, he stumbled outside after me. “I’ll call you, and we can see what’s up with Mike’s story.”

  Heading to my car, I gave a wave over my shoulder and turned around to cross paths with Dulcie Quinn and two of her actress friends.

  Dulcie gave several low banshee wails as I dove into my car and pulled out.

  Chapter Twenty-seven: Brown Skull and Bronze Dagger

  Preoccupied with the news from Eric, I cut my driving lesson with Toby short.

  When I pulled up beside his car on my driveway, he shot me a quizzical look and opened the passenger door. “That was quick. Have big plans?”

  “I found out some information and have to follow up. Things Dulcie said to mutual friends about black witches raising the dead behind my shed. Their goal is to draw the banshee.”

  “Damn!” Standing at the open door, Toby bent his long torso to address me. “That is a lot more important than a driving lesson.”

  I felt my hands white-knuckle the steering wheel. “I have to stop them before they try again at Thursday’s new moon.”

  “I’ll pass this new info along to Cerise. She might have some ideas since her family’s involved.”

  “Thanks lots.”

  Toby rose, then dipped his head again. “By the way, you did well with our last lesson. If you want to drive out of the coven, you need to get a driver’s permit and then a license at the local bureau of motor vehicles. It’s next door to the sheriff’s office. In case you manage some free time.”

  I swallowed a pang of guilt at the thought of driving illegally into town to meet Eric. Would Dulcie turn me in? She had a mean streak and didn’t like me. She’d likely tell the group raising the dead she’d seen me with Eric. What new problems would that bring me?

  When Toby closed the door, I parked my car inside the shed and secured the sliding barn doors with double locks. With supporters of the black curse roaming around, I needed to take more precautions.

  After a wave goodbye to Toby, I dashed inside to the kitchen desk and removed the flannel-covered keepsake. Now was the time to make another attempt to activate it, in case my powers drained again, and I needed tonight and Sunday to rest before work on Monday.

  I unwrapped layers of flannel and stared. A corner of the marble top had been chipped. Who did this? The banshee wanted the keepsake, but I didn’t feel its familiar ice in the air. The house had been locked when I came home. That should’ve kept the demon out, but what about the black witches? Could they open the door? Lacking familiarity with dark spells, I didn’t know what was possible.

  Had the damage to the keepsake affected its magic? I rotated the lid, lifted it off, and peered inside. The locks of hair looked the same. Strands of red, both strawberry and ash blond, silver, and Cerise’s black—all remained untouched, their tips still coated in my magic’s golden glow. Whoever had damaged the box hadn’t affected the contents.

  I released a breath and scanned the room for a clue. A vaporous black sleeve flitted past the hall doorway. “Fenton? Is that you?” I closed the keepsake and clutched it to my chest. No answer. Had I seen the thief?

  My heart thudding in my chest, I stepped into the hallway.

  A few steps up on the stairs, Fenton sat, head in hands.

  “Why didn’t you answer?”

  “Too ashamed.” He hung his head lower. “I’ve ruined the chance everyone needs o’ breaking the curse.”

  “How? Do you know what happened to the keepsake box?”

  “Aye.” He glanced my way, then looked at his feet. “I broke it.”

  I leaned
against the banister. “You? Why?”

  “I needed to see inside…to see if me hair’s in there. I thought maybe not since you weren’t getting the family magic to work. But I couldn’t get the lid off.”

  “Let me. Magic working through my wand opens it.” I removed the lid and showed him. “That black hair belongs to Cerise. We just added it last week. Unless you’ve changed hair colors as a ghost—”

  “Nay. This black be me true color. That might well have been your trouble with the keepsake, but now...it’s no use after I broke it.”

  “Take a closer look. See the golden glow at each hair’s tip? That’s my sun energy. Still there, just like a week ago. You didn’t harm anything.”

  He sat up, but still avoided eye contact. “Well, now. Maybe I can be o’ some good after all.”

  “Why isn’t your hair in here?” I squinted, trying to read his filmy face better.

  “I wouldn’t let Ellie or Maggie cut me hair for it. Ellie used the box for her dream witchcraft. I didn’t want anything to do with that. It’d turned so many against us. Was possible they disobeyed me and cut some while I slept, but not so likely.”

  “No. You should know that without consent, your magic wouldn’t combine well. That’s common knowledge.” I glared at him. He hid something. While I thought, my sun energy swelled to the surface until my hair showered gold sparks around me. “It’s time for you to come clean and explain everything. Why didn’t you ask me to open the keepsake? And you knew why it didn’t operate for me, but didn’t say a word.”

  “If me hair wasn’t there, to snatch some that remained I’d have to trick the black witches who’re trying to pull me corpse from the earth out back. They want the banshee to take me. Didn’t want you to cross paths with them wicked folk. Wouldn’t be safe. And it’s me own risk for not letting Ellie take me hair.”

  I slumped onto the bottom step, my hopes of breaking the curse sunk as low. “I just learned those witches were raising the dead on the moon phase nights to attract the banshee. I thought that was to scare me off, but now I understand it’s you they’re after. To feed their black curse.”