Coon Hollow Coven Tales 1-3

by Marsha A. Moore

  But even this signaled some notice. Along the way, forest animals crept out to meet us. Birds flitted soundlessly across our path. Possums, coons, deer, and mice, most possessing positive energies I recognized from my wand consecration, stood silent, their heads bowed. Those I could easily touch and read with my haptics were overwhelmed with gratitude and reverence that I’d broken the curse. The presence of black magic in their woods must have been frightening.

  A stag stepped in front of me and I touched him, felt the vibrations of his thankfulness.

  Around the next curve, a group of coons got in my way, chittering and bowing.

  I wanted to touch each animal who greeted me, let them voice their appreciation. But I needed to reach the coven before the veil thinned at midnight, in case there was something I could do to help Fenton.

  Over a circuitous mile, more creatures continued to meet us along the trail. My heart and feet floated light as the wisps of mist wafting into the trail’s dips.

  When we neared the forest edge, lights glimmered through the leaves and brush, then greeted us in full glory as the woods opened onto the back of the cemetery. Hundreds of coven members, many carrying lanterns, mingled among grave statues.

  I scanned for the black witches—Gladys, Ned, Dulcie, or others who strove to keep the O’Mara curse alive. Thankfully, none were present.

  Throughout the gardens, joyful statue spirits called to visiting family and friends with so much excitement, it was difficult to determine living from dead. The thinning veil allowed the statues’ limbs greater flexibility, and their voices swelled with laughter rather than the usual mournful songs. Although their feet remained planted in beds of thyme and mint, the intense vibrations of their magic stirred a heady mix of the herbal fragrances into the air. When their relations’ lanterns drew near, the statues’ stone skin glowed a warm blush from within the alabaster, marble, and granite.

  I stopped and stared, overwhelmed by the loving scene. No experience from New Wish could compare.

  The words spoken by the spirit statues conveyed such pureness of love, my heart swelled. I now understood what was meant by phrases I’d often heard about this coven: Witchcraft of Coon Hollow lives and breathes through souls of the dead. With no consequences to pay, words of the dead ring truer than voices of the living.

  My breath hitched. Had Fenton’s spirit paid consequences in whatever fate he’d met? He hadn’t learned much about local magic. Not enough to be declared “empowered.” Worry prompted me forward from the shadows of the trees to join the others.

  Keir waved to us.

  Waapake strained toward his master but stayed at my side.

  I smiled at the young coyote prancing and wagging his tail like a puppy. Along with Coyote Mother we made our way to meet the seer, and I fell into his open arms.

  While his familiar danced around us, Keir patted my shoulder. “I felt what you did. The air lightened and flowed deeper into my lungs. You’re an amazing witch, Aggie.”

  “Aggie’s here!” Shireen belted out above the surrounding laughter.

  My name resounded in an elated wave through the coven. Had all of these people supported me? The noxious term “outsider” drained from me as dirty dishwater flushes down the sink, leaving me clean and accepted, a part of this wonderful place. A smile pulled my mouth wide as the stretch of sky from horizon to horizon.

  Jancie and Rowe, assisting Vika between them, wound through the throng gathering around me.

  Shireen bowled over a few people to reach me first and wedged me free of Keir. Her matronly arms enfolded me in a bear hug. “Did you do it?”

  “Yes! The black curse is gone. I won. We all won,” I shouted.

  Hushed whispers followed by rounds of cheers oscillated through the crowd.

  I whispered into Shireen’s ear, “Fenton’s gone. I don’t know where. But the banshee didn’t take him.”

  She shook her head and looked to Vika at her side, who patted my arm and joined me in a hug. The elderly herbalist spoke into my ear, “We don’t know any more. He just vanished before our eyes. Not even a trace of his energy left. I’m so sorry.”

  “Did you check his hatbox?”

  Vika leaned back and nodded. “It was open, and his mother’s pearls were gone.” I knew those were his main source of magic. He was in trouble.

  Before I could ask Vika more, friends, both old and new, passed me along a loosely arranged receiving line. A female co-worker from the carriage house stepped up. “Aggie, thank you. Those folks in the O’Mara clan had suffered bad. And the curse fed power to them who’ve used black magic, so much that we all feared them.” The outpouring of gratitude overwhelmed me with happiness, which glowed in my heart. However, urgency in my heart to find out about Fenton pushed me on through the line.

  So many happy faces welcomed me back, expressing thanks for my work and my safety, but Cerise and Logan weren’t among them—the people I needed most to share my excitement and help me find Fenton.

  I scanned the statue gardens.

  Cerise bent low beside the diaphanous forms of her mother Maggie and Shireen’s mother Hypatia.

  Both ghosts knelt at a grave marker, hands pressed to the stone.

  I wormed my way between coven members, leaving the two coyotes and Keir to mingle and share the news.

  Logan crouched on the other side of the gravestone, his hands overtop the others.

  Maggie’s hand passed through the granite, while Cerise steadied the backs of her shoulders.

  Ellie rose from the ground, holding hands with her own daughter. Her other arm remained buried in the stone. Unlike my recent dream-walking partner, this woman appeared elderly, as I’d seen her before here in the cemetery. Her filmy long white hair and pale gown billowed around her frail limbs.

  Hurrying across the garden, I started to call to them, but clamped my mouth shut when I realized the difficult witchcraft they were performing.

  “Maggie, he needs approval. Or we’ll have to go back.” Ellie groaned from her awkward position. When she met my gaze, her contorted face beamed. “Aggie! You did it!”

  “Aggie!” Logan lurched upward, then lowered his body and hands back over the marker. Warmth and relief spread into his eyes, a bright cobalt blue sparkling from within.

  Cerise reached up for my hand, her pink lips drawn into a shining grin.

  “Logan, get on with it!” Maggie spat, clearly oblivious to the significance of my return, then muttered under her breath, “Young ones. No notion of focus.”

  He cupped his hands around Ellie’s fragile wrist. “The veil thins so we can speak freely to those loved ones who have passed. Fenton O’Mara, as high priest of Coon Hollow Coven, I beseech you to grant us your company on this night of Samhain.”

  Ellie’s tethered arm rose from the earth and with it…Fenton. All white, his features were barely discernible in a ghostlier form.

  Once he stood, I flung my arms around the space he occupied. “Are you okay?”

  “Aye. Soon as I heard them black witches screaming and felt their evil energies fade, I knew you’d won. Did you fare well?”

  I nodded and took a step back. “I knew the banshee hadn’t found you. What happened?”

  Ellie stroked a hand along Fenton’s back. “I snatched up me brother the second the curse lifted. Brought him into me dream world where he’d be safe and free.”

  Fenton withdrew his father’s watch from his pocket and handed it to me. “I won’t be needing this now. You take good care of it for me. Make the gold case glow with your sunshine, lass. Thank you for all you done for me.”

  Tears, some happy, some sad, watered my eyes, and I choked a reply, “I will.” I leaned into Logan’s outstretched arm and addressed him. “Can Fenton come and go at any time from the cemetery?”

  Logan held firm to my waist, lowered his gaze, and gave a slight shake of his head. “No. His soul is unempowered. He can only visit here on Samhain when invited.”

  I tried to blink back the
flood of tears that spilled down my cheeks. I gave up, let them roll freely, and squeaked out painful words, “Then, Fenton, I’ll see you every Samhain.”

  “Aye, I know you will, lass. I’ll be here.”

  “And you can always pay us a dream-walking visit.” Ellie smiled at him and stroked my arm.

  I nodded, smiling through my tears. “I will, and often.”

  “Ten minutes till midnight!” a loud male voice called above the noisy crowd.

  Logan pulled me close. His warm breath in my ear brought tempting shivers that confused my sadness. “I’m so happy you’re safe. And I’m so proud of you.” He leaned back and took me by the hand.

  Together, we lead the entire coven away from the garden.

  I looked over my shoulder to make sure Fenton and the others followed.

  He floated among a mass of well-wishers and retold the story of how the black witches intended to feed his soul to the banshee and keep the curse alive.

  Cerise squeezed tight to my other hand, and we walked beyond the statues to a large field where hundreds of lunch-sack paper lanterns formed a labyrinth. The entire group filed along the main path into the center circle of the maze marked with candle-lit jack-o’-lanterns at the four compass directions. Each person held a burning candle or lantern and stood shoulder to shoulder so all could fit inside.

  The lady beside me handed a lit taper candle fit with a paper wax guard. I accepted and we exchanged warm smiles.

  Logan moved away from me and onto a small dais to address the members. “Thank you all for joining our Samhain celebration. Please make room for all to enter the circle. Light your candles and lanterns if you have not.” He waited for the shuffling near the entrance to end. “Be sure later to give thanks to those of our coven who are not here but instead assisting the elderly at their homes to observe the sabbat. Let us who are present now speak a few words, whether silently or aloud to those nearby, on behalf of those we’ve known who have died in the past year.”

  The crowd hummed with reverent voices as well as similar vibrational sentiments that triggered my haptic sense.

  Logan held up a large indigo blue pillar candle, then used a blade to carve a rune into the wax that symbolized travel between the planes of life and death. He anointed the candle with oil, fitted the pillar inside a glass chimney, lit the wick, and faced me. His strong voice quavered as he shared his own loss. “This past week, I lost my dear friend Skena Stoddard. In exchange for a bit of my time, she shared her advanced witchcraft knowledge, including her love of pendulums.”

  I dug in my dress pocket, withdrew the amethyst crystal the elderly witch had given Logan, and gave it back to him. “Thank you for loaning me this precious gift. It helped me stay strong. I’m sorry for your loss. Earlier this year, I lost my Gran.” As I spoke, the circle quieted, and people turned toward me. Nervous with so many listening and feeling the sting of how I missed Gran, my voice shook. “I loved her with all my heart. She set me on this path to Coon Hollow, and I’m thankful for that. She believed in me, my skills as a witch, and guided me to break the black curse so that people and nature here could live safer lives.”

  Logan lifted the candle higher above his head. “On this Samhain sabbat, walk with those who’ve passed into their otherworld realm. Hold their hands.”

  I closed my eyes and saw Gran.

  She sat in a rocker on her porch, Coyote Mother at her feet.

  The coyote rose and came to me. Her wet nose touched my hand, and she led me to Gran.

  She gave a start, as if she’d been asleep, then her face lit with a broad grin, her eyes flashing with sparks of amber. “You did good, Aggie.”

  I clutched her soft hand. “So did you, Gran.”

  “I reckon we both did.” She chuckled and placed her other hand over mine. Her love enveloped me, and tears of joy streamed down my cheeks.

  “Please move to the entrance of the labyrinth.” Logan’s commanding voice broke my focus, though I still held tight to Gran’s soothing palm. “Then journey along the outer path in silent remembrance of those lost.”

  After we’d all formed a line outside the entrance, Logan headed into the maze. He slowly walked the outer loop marked by paper lanterns and cut across a hairpin curve on the backside.

  Next, I began my turn, Gran still by my side. Ellie and Fenton floated alongside me above the flames, their white shapes aglow. With each footfall, I silently said gratitude for them and Gran.

  When I reached the center and Logan, shouts outside the labyrinth jolted me from my meditation.

  Just arrived, the black witches, led by Gladys Blinkhorne, muscled their way to join the line.

  Other coven members physically blocked their path.

  “Get out of my way.” Gladys stood stiff and straight, her head towering above all but the tallest men. “I’m on the High Priest’s Council and so is Viola.”

  Fenton shivered beside me.

  “This isn’t no place for those who sacrifice our dying loved ones,” one man cried.

  “Best you all be leaving,” another man called out and received a chorus of agreement from the crowd.

  Logan pushed through to the fracas, with the tall, thin frame of my security man Duncan a pace behind. “I am authorized to speak for this coven. You all are not welcome. Leave this sacred ground now and be out of the coven before this moon sets,” Logan commanded. Chest heaving, he glared at each of the black witches.

  Dulcie giggled in his face, as if this was some fun game. She lit a candle and shared the flame with the rest. She seemed recovered from my wand-shot. Too bad it hadn’t knocked some sense into her.

  Duncan loomed over her. His deep voice shook my eardrums. “You don’t seem to be understandin’. This is no jokin’ matter.”

  Ned Murdock shoved and struck people out of the way with his cane. He limped past the entrance, paving a way for the others.

  Hands snagged Dulcie and her friend Rissa, but Ned and the two councilwomen passed without impedance. No one could take hold of them. Those who lunged for the trio were cast backward into the crowd. From my observations, the three of them, all older than the other witches, seemed more skilled in dark art. Did a black spell protect them?

  I removed my wand from the bag and strode forward.

  Fenton’s arm stopped me, not with his physical body, but his magic. “Wait, lass. This be me fight.” He floated onto the platform, his mother’s old-world pearls in his hand. White light shot from his eyes, lasers directed at the intruders. Simultaneously, their candles went dark.

  The crowd moved in and seized the black witches, shoving and manhandling them to their feet and away from the labyrinth. “You’re gettin’ your just dues, you old hag,” one man yelled and spit in Gladys’ face, while others cheered him.

  She remained stoic, but her friends cried out in pain.

  “You stripped off their black magic protection?” I asked Fenton, thrilled he could help, but also that he got his revenge.

  “Aye.” With a grin, he rejoined Ellie and me and wrapped an arm around each of us.

  “You deserve that revenge and more,” I said.

  “I’m on the High Priest’s Council!” Gladys yelled.

  “Not anymore!” a male voice responded.

  Duncan and two other armed men, along with Logan, escorted Gladys and the others to the open cemetery gate and shoved them off the property. Now they were the outsiders.

  Dulcie pleaded, “Wait!” and rushed after Logan’s crew, too late. The gate clanged shut in her face.

  Logan and the men waited as the outcasts glared a bit, then trudged away, heads hung, shoulders drooping.

  When the road cleared, the armed men stayed to stand guard, while Logan rejoined the coven at the labyrinth. He called out in an authoritative tone, “Let’s continue our walks with loved ones we’ve lost. Welcome them and thank them for their fine contributions to our coven.”

  I resumed my position in the center, along with Ellie and Fenton.


  Holding Maggie’s hand, Cerise made her way through the maze, tears streaking mascara into her fuchsia smile.

  When everyone again stood within the center, Logan stepped onto the dais. “We have much to be thankful for on this Samhain. Cherish our friends and family, both the living and the spirits.”

  People wandered from the circle, some lingering among the statue gardens, others expressing warm wishes all around to Fenton, Logan, and me.

  When the crowd thinned to just my close friends, we joined at Ellie’s marker. The stone lay on an empty grave unable to house her unempowered spirit, a mere sign of respect through which she could pass from her dream world. I hoped someday Fenton would be granted the same portal.

  Holding my muscles rigid to keep myself from falling apart, I faced Fenton and extended my hand. “I can’t do this.” I couldn’t lose his humor and the silliness of his pranks, that all brought light into my life.

  “Neither can I, lass. Neither can I.” His white arms passed around me. A hug I felt only with my heart unleashed more tears. He pulled away, offered his sister his arm, tipped his fedora, and slipped through the marker with her.

  I pressed my face into Logan’s chest, and he held me tight. He sighed and said, “I know it’s painful right now, but you’ll see him again. He would’ve been destroyed if not for your bravery. It’s been a hard night…for both of us. Would you like to go over to my house and relax awhile?”

  “Sounds perfect. Just what I need.”

  We waved goodbye to the few who trickled out of the gate with us.

  The half-mile walk along the deserted county road with Logan’s arm around my waist quieted the blur of emotions and thoughts racing through my mind. One idea shone clear: I wasn’t the outsider now.

  Under the protection of a guardian tree at the corner of his house, Logan turned me to face him. “Finally, the time’s right for us.” His lips brushed mine, and he pulled me into the kiss I’d been longing for. His fingers tangled in my hair, and I pressed closer until my life force, my sun energy, spilled into him and his energy oozed into me.

  When we separated to go inside, a single light at the cemetery caught my attention.