Coon Hollow Coven Tales 1-3

by Marsha A. Moore

  “To report it to the Council first. That would be Eugenia Trustwell’s house, correct?”

  “I think so. I don’t know Eugenia, or don’t remember meeting her. I took the woods trail from the back of my property directly there.”

  “What did you see?”

  Esme recounted the incident and included the blood ice, which could be important evidence to a fellow witch. But she omitted mention of Baldy Oscar. She held her breath, desperate to rid herself of the possible murderer’s identity.

  “Give me a minute. I’m writing down the details. Blood ice. Hmm.” Something clicked, like the end of a ballpoint pen. “That indicates a crime of vengeance is taking place or is about to take place. Did you recognize the man dragging the body?”

  Esme swallowed hard against her swollen throat and rasped the name, “Oscar Burnhard.”

  “I see.” Rowe paused. “Are you sure?”

  Though her pulse pounded so loud she couldn’t hear her own voice, she explained how she’d seen Oscar at the council office soon after the incident.

  “Thank you for reporting this. I can see it would be difficult to step forward with this. I will inform our High Priest, Logan Dennehy, and he and I will look into this matter. I’m sure he’ll want to meet with you tomorrow. Let’s set a time after lunch, one o’clock. There at your place. Will that work for you?”

  “Yes.” Overwhelmed by Rowe’s empathy and sincerity, she was speechless.

  “We’ll see you then. And thank you again for stepping up with this report, Esme.”

  Esme hung up and let out a loud sigh, although her pulse would not be quieted. She let go of a few worries, then considered what remained. If she became known as a witness who named a councilman as a potential murderer, particularly a man popular with founding families, what problems would she face?

  Sleet pelted the kitchen window. She looked outside at the moment the shed’s security light flashed on. Thick ice, the same sort that formed days ago as she unpacked, coated everything. But this sparkled crystal clear, not colored, and layered faster into a coating of at least an inch within a couple minutes. Her cobbled walkway and the road glittered beneath the ice.

  The sleet stopped. At the edge of the security light’s golden glow, two shadow men, one tall and one short, stepped forward from the direction of the chestnut tree.

  Esme clutched her talisman.

  The taller had the same lanky frame as the faery who’d killed the badger. The shorter was overweight and used a cane to walk. The pair continued into the brightest part of the beam, and their shadows transformed into tangible features. The taller wore a hat with a flat crown and a brim turned up all around. From underneath, blue hair spilled out in wild spikes. Long, blue sideburns covered his jaw. Otherwise his gray Carhartt jacket and pants appeared typical for men who worked outdoors,

  The short fat man’s baggy jeans were held up by red suspenders. He leaned heavily on his cane to shuffle into the light, then strained to full height while holding onto the tall man’s shoulder. He nodded and smiled at Esme with a twinkle in his eyes she couldn’t ever forget. The same gleam she’d seen as a child in drops of morning dew on her favorite plants in Gram’s garden. It was Relic. Although she’d never seen him outright, she knew those eyes that shined at her through icicles and reflected from rainwater puddled inside corolla cups of flower petals.

  She chased off the front stoop, a couple steps toward where the pair stood under the light, then stopped. “Relic! Is that you?” she whispered, half afraid this was another trick of King Raclaw’s.

  “Indeedy, it is, Miss Esmeralda. I’m right glad you’re back and to stay.” He gestured toward the lanky man. “This here’s Cap’n Shade. We laid the hoarfrost to guide you to safety during your travels, and this glaze ice to protect you in Holly Cabin from all danger. Mighty fine to be able to throw a glaze in November. Thank you kindly for that. Much appreciated by the entire Winter Court.” He leaned onto his cane and made a slight bow, while Captain Shade swept his hat off and bent deeply at his waist.

  “Captain Shade.” Esme’s voice wavered, unsure how to speak to this faery with a title. “Were you the one who killed the badger?”

  “Yes, Miss Esmeralda. That were me.” A grin highlighted apple-red cheeks inside his blue sideburns.

  “Thank you for that, for keeping me safe,” she replied.

  “You’re right welcome, miss.”

  Esme stepped from the porch to meet them but lost her balance on an icy cobblestone. She grabbed for a branch of holly to stop her fall. When she regained her footing and looked up, the two faeries faded back to shadows and retreated into the woods.

  Was that really Relic? Esme knew him by small characteristics, his twinkling eyes and his gentle and funny way of speaking that seemed to whisper to her on the breeze or on wings of insects. A voice that came from nowhere. As the years passed and she became a teenager, Relic spoke less often. She assumed he’d been created by her childhood imagination.

  The sleet resumed and Esme retreated to the tiny porch, squinting for a chance to see the two in the woods.

  Seen or unseen, Relic existed. And he brought a friend, the shadow man who’d killed the badger and watched her at Alice’s. No wonder in Shade’s earlier remark, he claimed to have known her as a child. Relic mentioned that he and Captain Shade belonged to the Winter Court. Was that a specific group within The Cousins? They’d used their winter magic to guide her home with frost on the roads that would’ve led her safely home from the market. If only she’d paid more attention to that sign, she could’ve avoided those evil bats. Esme surveyed the front and side yards. The entire property of Holly Cabin lay shielded by a crystal veil of ice. Was that to protect her from Raclaw? Had Relic and Shade known about the attack? Thinking of those bats still made her shake. Where had she found strength, more like a violent surge, to overpower the king bat?

  A sharp, extended meow from the other side of the door alerted Esme that Dove needed her. Inside she picked him up and petted him until he quieted. His heat warmed her chilled hands. She laid logs and kindling in the fireplace. Despite all the unanswered questions, she felt safe in the protection and care of her childhood friend Relic. She lit the fire, peeled off her wet sweater, and sat in Gram’s rocker.

  Dove jumped into her lap and purred. Was he comforted by her calmness or by the magic of the protective ice? Animals possessed intuition on a different plane from humans.

  Esme gazed into the flames and reflected. Relic also thanked her for allowing him to throw glaze ice so early. And said that the entire Winter Court appreciated her causing an early change of seasons. But how had she done that? She was only a novice hedge witch. Earlier the badger had told her she’d pay with her life for bringing winter early. Had the badger been a faery directed by Raclaw? It seemed likely after the bat attack. Did Raclaw try to remove her defensive black amber so he could kill her?

  Grateful for the ice covering her home, she finished her evening chores and again found solace in Grammy’s fluffy bed which cradled Esme’s tired body and mind into sleep.

  ***

  Drenched in sweat, Esme woke to total darkness. Her fingers clutched the witch’s amber. She thrashed against the covers. Against her will, half-sleep reclaimed her. Images raced behind her eyelids. A long, black cape swept open to reveal a handsome man, his dark brown hair in loose waves. He held a toddler, a girl with ringlets of the same color.

  Esme struggled unsuccessfully to open her eyes.

  The child giggled as the man danced in circles with her.

  A groan resonated from Esme’s parched mouth.

  When the man touched the girl’s chest, her heart glowed purple through her dress. “Now, my daughter Esmeralda, we share more than my blood.” He laughed and danced, faster and faster, circling out of control.

  His maniacal laugh rang in Esme’s ears. She forced her eyes open and sat up, gulping the ice-covered cabin’s chilly air.

  Chapter Six: Apple Mint


  Thayne paced the circumference of the Grand Ravine, hoping an answer would come to him about what to do concerning Esmeralda. After his meeting with her, at least he knew his dilemma: he couldn’t separate one question from another, much less prioritize the problems. What had his father done when faced with complex issues? The ultimate answer was simple: keep the court safe. Thayne’s determination overflowed. Frost spilled from his fingertips and curled the oak leaves at his feet as he sorted through the predicament.

  The talisman Esmeralda wore contained powers, largely her own which were both dark and light. It could harm the Winter Court if the crystal fell into the wrong hands. The Summer and Spring Courts, mostly reclusive during cold weather, posed little issue. But if King Raclaw learned about the talisman, his Autumn Court would fight hard to obtain it. Those death mongers would become even more eager to spill winter fae blood. Thayne must claim or control that witch’s amber. His pulse throbbed with conviction and his breath puffed bursts of icy mist. Battling Raclaw, though arduous, was predictable. The Autumn Court’s tactics seldom wavered from full-on attacks, with few covert operations to challenge Thayne and his guards.

  Beating Raclaw to the talisman might be achieved, but once Thayne held the black amber, would that enable his court to overpower the Summer Court? End any suffering faced by his winter fae in the entire world of Faerie? The intense and unusual powers within the witch’s amber might tempt him to use them in greed. Using the talisman might prove an historic chance for the Winter Court to rule supreme over all others, which hadn’t happened for thousands of years. During his father’s reign, those who touted balance, freedom, and fairness upheld equality between the Winter and Summer Courts as the best goal. Thayne often thought those same fae who touted balance were secretly too battle-weary or revolted by the aggressive premise of war to rise up. Why should Thayne settle when presented a chance to excel without spillage of much winter fae blood? He longed to extend his father’s legacy, and build his own.

  Thayne could ask his adviser Grayson, who’d served his father through his three-century reign. Thayne should ask. But the old adviser’s grim demeanor, the way he looked down his long, crooked nose at Thayne during his childhood created a distance that remained even after a year of his own kingship. Thayne dismissed consulting the adviser, who maintained implacable allegiance to the old king.

  Apart from the enticements of the talisman, Esmeralda herself contained the same powers found in the black amber. Could she be a threat to his court? An easy answer: yes. Would she? That answer proved impossible for Thayne to grasp. His readings of her talisman revealed the dark powers which belonged to her lay dormant. Had she ever used them? If not, what might prompt her to use them? Those answers could only be determined by knowing the woman. To protect his court, he needed to better assess the level of risk. The preliminary methodology required was clear—spend more time with Esmeralda directly, or indirectly through his most-trusted staff.

  What would observation yield? She was a hedge witch. All witches’ minds contained so much camouflage of shadows curtaining their circuitous mortal thoughts that it was nearly impossible to simply read their intentions. Her actions would have to be tediously monitored and analyzed to determine purposeful patterns. His guard captains could serve that function, but ultimately the subjective evaluation required his personal careful consideration.

  The caw of a crow brought him back to the present moment. Dead branches crunched under his feet as Thayne paced the rim of the Ravine.

  He picked up a fallen branch. He studied its fine network of fissures coursing through the bark. He threaded white frost magic along those crevices, matching them perfectly as he’d done hundreds of times with complete confidence. But could he do that with Esmeralda? Could he follow her patterns of judgment, learn them as predictable and repeatable so he could stake the safety of his court upon his analysis? At the car dealer he’d forgotten to study the talisman while lost in her eyes, or smile, or the curves of her hips. Even the complex tonality of her voice blocked his concentration. The woman was dangerous and intriguing, whether because of her powers or in spite of them, he didn’t know. The thought of such a task seemed daunting, but he must learn. Thayne shot ice through the branch until it shattered into thousands of crystals. He shook the remaining particles from his hands and followed the next path leading into the ravine.

  When he descended half the distance, a tiny messenger guard skittered toward him. “My King! Hold there. Important news.” As she came to a stop, a gust of freezing air swept past Runner Gale and challenged Thayne’s footing more than he expected. She’d raced faster than usual, which meant nothing good.

  Thayne secured his stance and faced the nimble female runner. Her entire body, covered in pale gray rip-stop nylon tunic and leggings, heaved with her rapid breath. She resembled a storm cloud ready to burst.

  “Cap’n Cobweb sends word. King Raclaw and two dozen bat shifters attacked Esmeralda. She’s unharmed.” Her face death-white rather than its normal bluish tint, the runner gasped for air. “Raclaw tried for her talisman. Didn’t get it. She fought him off and escaped. Drove back to Owls Tail Creek Road. She was frightened. Cap’n Cobweb spread hoarfrost. All along the road to guide her home. From the other direction.”

  Thayne’s jaw twitched with the familiar excitement of fighting and defeating Raclaw. But his fingers iced at the thought of Esmeralda in danger. He patted the runner on her delicate shoulder. “Thank you, Gale. Come with me to dispatch Captain Shade and Sire Relic. You will accompany them.”

  Unable to move slowly, the runner zipped past to where Shade loitered around the cook stoves carrying a mug.

  Thayne called to Relic to join them. Once they assembled, Thayne conveyed the message. “I want both of you to go to Holly Cabin. As soon as Esmeralda has arrived, throw glaze ice to prevent the Autumn Court from attacking her there. Then, Relic, make yourself known. Apply only minimal glamour as needed to be accepted. She can identify you, correct?”

  Relic nodded. “Yes, in slight but certain ways.”

  “Introduce Shade to her. Allow her to feel safe, protected by friends. We need to open communication with her.” Thayne faced Shade. “Runner Gale will accompany you, in case you must communicate with me or Cobweb.”

  Shade drew a hand to his pork pie hat and saluted. When dismissed, he supported Relic’s shoulder while the older faery slowly spread glamour that gave him a different physical form free of infirmities.

  The kinks in Relic’s spine straightened so much he needed to lengthen his suspenders. He stood taller, up to Shade’s collar, and handed his cane to his wife Yalda.

  Through thick spectacles, she winked at her husband. “Like the dapper faery I married.”

  He stretched his legs, grinned, and smacked her well-padded rear that filled out her full skirt. “Save them notions for later, much later. After a meal an’ a good rest, when I can call up this much glamour again.”

  She tsk’d and said dismissively, “Knowin’ you, you old fart, that’ll be a rest so long the notion’ll fall clean outta yer head.”

  “Ready?” Shade smirked at the retired guard captain.

  “Indeedy. Race ya.” Relic’s ice-blue eyes twinkled for an instant before he flashed up the ravine wall with Gale on his heels and Shade a few paces behind.

  Yalda curtsied. “Thank you kindly, my King, for givin’ Relic a mission to sparkle the ordinary days o’ his retirement.”

  “And the wide eyes of listeners to his tall tales will soothe his aches from the endeavor.” Thayne laughed with her.

  ***

  A hand shaking Thayne’s shoulder startled him from a nap in his hillside chambers. He flinched and the bentwood rocker swung back on its runners. A journal of his father’s that Thayne had been consulting dropped with a clatter onto the limestone floor.

  White threads of Cobweb’s gossamer hair floated in front of Thayne’s drowsy eyes as she rambled, “Sorry to wake you, my King, but we have trouble with the Autumn
Court.”

  At the mention of the Autumn Court, Thayne’s eyes flew open though his weary mind lagged behind. “Relic, Shade, and Gale—are they hurt? No. I saw them return. What is the matter then?”

  “A mischief of Raclaw’s rats, numbering twenty-some, were in your forest and wounded three of my patrols with nasty deep bites as we checked Holly Cabin on our way home after Shade’s party had left, but all made it back here.”

  Thayne blinked as he absorbed details of Captain Cobweb’s run-on account. Communication skills were not her forte. However she more than made up for that inadequacy with a kind heart, faultless fealty, and a bag of magic tricks no other faery could lay claim to. Thayne asked, “Did they suffer great blood loss? They are being treated for possible infection?”

  Standing nearby, Cobweb nodded and a shower of white filaments flew over Thayne’s face. “Yes, my King, and one required extra effort to remove a poisoned fang that troubled him so bad we had to carry him home.”

  “Poisonous bites.” Thayne wiped his goatee free of her hair and stood to prevent more from sticking to him. “Raclaw’s intent on getting that talisman. Was Holly Cabin protected?”

  “Yes, Relic and Shade had done it up right with more than an inch of glaze ice that’ll keep out all other courts.”

  “Good. Please take me to your injured patrols.” Thayne motioned toward the root-framed doorway covered with animal hides that kept consults private from adjacent smaller apartments used by the king’s advisers. Only Grayson occupied that space since Thayne had yet to name others. At the present time of political unrest, he wished he’d made different decisions. He could’ve already appointed another whom he trusted and removed Grayson to more distant quarters. Perhaps to one of the many ravines throughout his forest that housed the Winter Court.

  In a small hillside cave, the young male guard, who’d suffered with the embedded poisonous fang, shivered on a cot beside a fire. Flames spewed smoke that wrapped the wounded soldier in healing apple mint. The other two injured patrols slept peacefully. Thayne touched the broad shoulder of the suffering faery, a muscled lad who always went about with a shy smile. “I am grateful for your service to protect our court, Firness.”