Coon Hollow Coven Tales 1-3

by Marsha A. Moore

  “Yes. Can you see me?”

  “Not much. Purple mist is everywhere. Just see your outline.”

  “How do you feel? Does anything hurt?”

  “My head aches, like something’s pushing on the inside of my skull.” She attempted a slight movement of one hand toward her chest, grimacing. “And my heart, like it’s hitting against my ribs. Where am I?”

  “You’re safe inside the Winter Court’s Field of Insight and meditation. I’m here with my guards. Can you move your body?”

  With exertion contorting her face, she lifted her rigid limbs a few inches, then let them drop against the cold, hard surface. “Stiff and swollen. Really bad in the joints.”

  “Your black amber is bringing your powers to the surface.” He moved closer and gently held her hand, suppressing his desire to rub feeling into her knuckles and wrist. If only he knew what sort of fae magic she possessed. When the spirit of Esmeralda’s father had appeared, his warning didn’t include information about what type he’d passed on to his daughter. “That’s why it hurts. Will you let me take you to visit Cryptic and Halcyon so they can ease the pain?”

  “No.” She pulled away and hid the talisman in her palm. “I don’t want them to take it.”

  “I promise they won’t, but you need the care of a healer.”

  “I’ll be fine. I can heal myself.” She tried to stand. Thayne steadied her with an arm around her waist, but with her first step, her knees locked and she fell into him.

  He held her tighter, supporting her weight. “You’re not well. Please come with me to get treatment.”

  “Okay,” she lowered her voice to a whisper.

  Thayne motioned to a sentry. “Go ahead and tell the healers and Cryptic we’ll be along shortly.”

  The guard saluted and manifested invisible wings. The translucent feathery limbs spread and whipped him from the labyrinth into the forest beyond.

  Thayne bent and lifted Esmeralda into his arms. He sensed the violent energy writhing inside her, like hundreds of snakes that wanted out. He shielded himself from the unknown evil with a casement of his own power and a thick net of frost coating his skin. He nodded to Captain Shade, who understood the unsaid order to follow suit and be ready in case he was needed to hold her.

  Along with their small band of guards, they unfurled hidden wings and, in haste, beat the air to rise from the snowy maze. A startled nye of pheasants squawked and flapped to the far side of the meadow. Once inside the dense woods, Thayne touched down with extreme care.

  From the slight impact Esmeralda’s groans interrupted the quiet of the forest and shot daggers through Thayne. She clutched at his neck and shoulder.

  Her pain laced with anguish seemed too real, as if a part of him. Should he hand her over to Shade? Although it seemed a wise choice, Thayne couldn’t bring himself to act on it.

  A cat meowed loudly and sprang from behind a trunk.

  Thayne’s heart jumped until he recognized it as Esmeralda’s smoke-gray cat. “Captain Shade, will you please gather the cat for a guard to transport?”

  Once the animal was safe and secure, Thayne took a bracing deep breath and sped along the trail.

  At an intersection he slowed to negotiate the turn toward the Grand Ravine. Panting, he paused to catch his breath. Alarmed at his unexpected weakness, he leaned against a tree. Why was he susceptible to her powers?

  Esmeralda shivered, her muscles and magic jumping beneath her skin.

  “My King, are you okay?” Shade asked. “Do you want me to take her?”

  “No, but stay close.” Thayne mustered strength and set off toward the Winter Court.

  The captain’s footfall sounded close behind. Usually, Thayne could easily outrun any of his guards, even Shade. Not now.

  When they descended into a deep depression along a streambed, Thayne partially opened his wings to help him balance under the load of weight and magic.

  Esmeralda dipped her head low against his shoulder.

  After a mile they moved from the creek and merged along an incline to the Ravine’s rim.

  Thayne extended his wings wider for the extreme descent, with their tips striking trunks as his boots skidded down the slope. Beads of sweat on his forehead and scalp immediately froze into crystals threaded into his brows and hair. The ice pinched his skin.

  Finally, in the main gathering area, he swerved into the healers’ cave. There, he handed Esmeralda over to the waiting arms of a male orderly who laid her on a shearling-padded cot.

  She resisted and reached her arms toward Thayne, although her eyes darted across the area. A slight energy connection remained between him and Esmeralda.

  Shaking uncontrollably, Thayne sank onto a nearby cot. To ease her fears, he allowed his gaze to feed their connection but couldn’t chance more direct contact with her erupting power.

  On her ashen face her eyelids bunched tight. With upper arms squeezed to her sides, one hand, knuckles white, gripped the talisman at the center of her chest. Her other hand fastened onto the opposite elbow. She licked her dry, cracked lips and muttered a stream of incoherence.

  A sentry lay the gray cat at her side, although she didn’t recognize it.

  The healing staff surrounded her. “Esmeralda, it’s Halcyon. Do you remember me, dear?” the head healer asked in a gentle tone, although her almond eyes narrowed to slits and lines dug between her brows.

  Esmeralda blurted, “Don’t take my talisman.”

  “I won’t, dear.” Halcyon touched a hand to her patient’s forehead. “I’m going to reduce your swelling so you feel better. Is that okay?”

  Esmeralda nodded, though her hand remained tight on the crystal.

  “You’re much paler than I saw you last, but your skin is hot to touch. From that, as you know being a healer yourself, you’re needing balance. First, some water.” She helped Esmeralda drink from a tin cup and barked directions to of her female assistants, “Bring out the lavender poultice and jars of the dried herb as well as vervain, myrtle, meadowsweet, and loosestrife.” Halcyon continued to the orderly. “Make a low fire in the pit so we can smoke the air she breathes to bring quickest relief.”

  Grayson arrived beside Thayne. “My King, you do not look well. Odor about you indicates you have been affected by threatening powers.” The adviser sniffed with his long, crooked nose like a bloodhound until he faced Esmeralda. He jerked his spine stick-straight, and his ash-gray eyes pierced Thayne. “You have brought danger to our court. What is the meaning of this?”

  Thayne welcomed a mug of apple mint tea from one of the healers and engaged her as a chance to ignore Grayson. The adviser had overstepped his role by criticizing him in public—an issue he’d deal with later.

  The blaze in the fire pit warmed the area, which helped calm the overactive frost throughout Thayne’s body.

  As the orderly stirred the flames down to smoking coals, Halcyon tossed handfuls of dried lavender blossoms onto the embers. The sweeping bell sleeves of her gown fanned the medicinal fire. The herbs sparked, then smoldered, filling the air with floral sweetness that pulled on Thayne’s eyelids and reminded him of how little he’d slept in the past few days and nights.

  A murmur from Esmeralda made his eyes snap open. Her shoulders settled against the shearling and her limbs relaxed. He smiled, seeing her released from torment. For as long as he could remember, Grammy Flora grew and harvested long garden rows of lavender, and Holly Cabin always smelled of the fragrance from miles away. Was that to keep her granddaughter’s wayward fae and witch magic in harmony?

  Halcyon then opened another jar and sprinkled the fire with small pinches of the herb. A crisp, sweet scent drifted past Thayne.

  “Hold up!” Cryptic flashed into the cave, her stringy hair bunched as if she’d been under duress. She met Halcyon at the fire pit. “Add no more. She needs to let her powers out.”

  The lithe healer shot the sibyl a quizzical expression, hand poised above the smoking embers, then looked to Thayne.
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  He pushed to stand, glad to feel somewhat stronger after the tea. Grayson remained glued to Thayne, and together they joined the pair. Thayne drew the group back into a small enclave which served as an office. He related what had happened in the Field of Insight, what the spirit of Esmeralda’s father had said. “She must choose one of her wayward powers, either that of fae or witch, letting go of the other, or she will die.”

  Cryptic gave a smug smile. “As much as I expected from the elders’ writings.”

  “How is she to do this?” Thayne asked.

  “Just as I said, it’s all up to her,” the sibyl replied. “I can’t do no more.”

  Thayne clenched a fist and glared at her. “Or won’t because she’s part mortal. Which is it?”

  The sibyl cowered and Grayson stepped in front of her. “Sibyl Cryptic acts with wisdom. It is not in the interest of this court to open the vile powers of a wayward witch into our midst. Raclaw may desire such, but we are more civilized and value safety of our fae above all else.”

  “It is my wish that the safety of the Winter Court is upheld.” Thayne’s voice resonated off the rocky walls as he glared from one to the next. “But also we must honor the good relationship we maintained with Grammy Flora and keep her granddaughter safe. Until I deem otherwise, that is our course of action. Do I make myself clear?” Anger coursed through him. With hands on hips, he stared them down until receiving acknowledgements. Then he addressed Cryptic. “How can we aid Esmeralda?”

  “By leavin’ her to learn her powers. No more peace herbs to sedate the girl.”

  “Surely you don’t mean that?” Halcyon implored, shaking her braided crown. “Thayne brought her here doing just that, in a state which threatened her life. We cannot allow such suffering.”

  “You are both right,” Thayne said. “Holly Cabin has smelled strongly of lavender for some time, more than two decades. I think Grammy Flora purposely used the herb to help her granddaughter cope with being a wayward. But if she must rid herself of one of the two powers, she must be able to distinguish between them. And we must find a way to help her.”

  “I disagree. This is but a simple matter.” Grayson peered down his nose at Thayne and a sly grin curled the lips of his pinched face. “Take her black amber. You are strong enough. And she seems fond of you, so you can take advantage. A large portion of her powers, likely both types, are stored within that crystal. She will be left with little or nothing. A non-magical mortal, and then no threat to us.”

  “No. That must not happen,” Thayne asserted. The old adviser’s narrow-mindedness upheld protocol of the past regime and was overdue for adjustment to the way Thayne wished to rule his court. He could not connect Esmeralda with the word mortal. Living as a witch, even though having a finite lifespan, she would be able to interact with fae. The thought of her becoming unable to see him without glamour was not the outcome he wished.

  Grayson crooked a single gray brow, its wiry hairs arching into lines of his forehead.

  Luckily, Thayne had plenty of other credible reasons to oppose the adviser. “I felt the strength under her skin waiting to be surface. If she could utilize that force, she’d be a formidable opponent when I tried to take her talisman. And if I were successful, that empowered gem would become my albatross. I’m certain of it now after carrying Esmeralda here today and tasting the strength of her powers.”

  Halcyon’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.

  “I’ll forever be guarding her black amber against theft from other courts, or from my own desire to employ its powers. Even if locked away, I’d always be tempted. And I doubt I’d be able to overcome its allure and destroy it. There must be another way. How can we help free her of the wayward power?” He studied their faces. With his breath kept shallow, Thayne’s power surged. He controlled the gaze of each, their lips quivering and eyes narrowing under the strain.

  None supplied an answer.

  Thayne had no more patience. A stream of icy daggers shot from his fingers and slashed the floor at his feet. “If Esmeralda is to wisely release one of her two powers, she must be able to distinguish between them. I trust Grammy Flora did her best to show her granddaughter how to be a witch. We will make certain she knows what it’s like to be fae.” He barked at Grayson, “Tonight marks the first quarter moon. Call the court to a grander celebration than planned. Alert the cooks to prepare a feast and open the spearmint wine. Tell the bands to be ready to take the stage.”

  Thayne stomped out and paused briefly to check on Esmeralda.

  She petted her cat, who had curled against her side.

  Avoiding many who wished his council, Thayne headed directly to his chambers to find the item he needed from his mother’s jewel case.

  Chapter Seventeen: Crimson’s Ring

  Strange new sights greeted Esme from every direction in the home of the Winter Court. As if looking through tinted sunglasses, a purple haze impeded her vision in the healers’ cave and through its wide mouth to the outside. She blinked, trying to clear her sight, unsure whether it was natural to the magic of this place, or from the treatment they’d given her. Either way, the colored light remained.

  Dove snuggled tighter against her thigh, and Esme sat up on her cot to stroke his fur. Purple tinged his gray color, and clung to her own skin, pulsing like an aura. Could her own magic be responsible?

  Hard to know, since nothing felt normal. Although not as bad, her head ached and her skin crawled, under pressure from the wayward magic inside her. At least now her thoughts made more sense. Hindered with stiff joints, she slowly lifted Dove into her lap and hugged him close to feel more grounded. Everything had changed except him.

  In that snow field, a purple aura had covered her father’s spirit. He seemed so real, it was hard to believe he was dead. She didn’t want to believe. She’d just found him. Something she’d wanted to happen for as long as she could remember. He’d held her while they danced and she could feel him. His smile, the gleam in his eyes, and the warmth in his voice all told her he loved her.

  Anxious healers buzzed around, checking on her and offering water, smiling apprehensively.

  When Esme found a quiet moment, she touched her talisman. It had brought her and her father together. And her powers had also surfaced; she became a wayward. That was certain, not only from what Erebus stated but also from what she felt inside her body. The reference book had described the confusing mix of power correctly as volatile and deviant. The dissimilar fae and witch components fought within her, confused her thoughts, and blocked all but her keenest sense: smell.

  The thick fragrance of lavender coming from the smoky fire pit reminded her of Grammy. Had she known Esme was a wayward and kept the cabin scented with it to ease the ill effects of a wayward’s warring magic? Gram had always sent Esme home after her visits with lavender everything: sachets, jars of lotions, tea, and candles. Esme sighed and rubbed her cheek against Dove’s soft head. Gram had known. It now made more sense that she’d arranged Esme to meet with Erebus, by guiding her to purchase the black amber at the gem show and by leaving Holly Cabin to her. Realizing Gram’s forethought and care that extended into a future she wouldn’t know, Esme blinked back tears that seeped into her eyes. The knowledge gave her comfort and faith that this frightening path she followed was a direction Gram had chosen for her. Esme trusted Gram more than anyone else. Esme sucked in a deep breath. That didn’t mean the path would be easy.

  Her father had made it clear, that she must give up one of her two powers or she’d die from madness. Or worse. He hadn’t said what that meant, but panic swarmed through her at the nightmarish possibilities. She’d already felt the dizzying powers surging through her and tried to run them out of her body. Her lips quivered. He’d said giving up one power meant she’d lose her connection to him, the father she’d longed for and cried for all these years. He hadn’t explained why, but she trusted him. She always had in her dreams. Now that she actually felt close to him, she must sever their relationsh
ip. Forever. Could she do that? She swallowed and her throat tightened into a sore lump.

  “There’s me lass,” Relic’s friendly voice called as he entered the cave and hobbled with a cane past the fire, a wide smile expanding his already round face. “I hear you’re to be our guest o’ honor on First Quarter Night. That be grand news.”

  “I am?” With effort, she swung her legs to the floor, and attempted to move toward him.

  “Sit yourself back down an’ I’ll join you. You’re needin’ to rest up a bit more to enjoy the fun.”

  “What happens on First Quarter Night?” She grinned as she smelled the pleasant scent of dew mixed with rummy butterscotch that she remembered from her childhood, now magnified and bubbling with cheery kindness.

  “Lots of good food, a real feast, and lively music and dancin’ after we’ve all had a swig or three.” He chuckled between wheezes and scratched the sparse gray hairs on his balding head. “Did I say some real tasty food? And plenty o’ everything to last till first light o’ dawn.”

  “Sounds fun, but I don’t know if I feel well enough for a party.”

  “I heard you had one rough day. I reckon some good vittles will mend what ails you.”

  A faery woman, nearly as rotund as Relic, bustled up. “True ’nough, I work some as a cook, and we’ve been makin’ quail pies that’ll melt in your mouth and warm your belly.” She tucked wisps of gray hair into her bun and adjusted her eyeglasses.

  Thayne followed close behind but remained silent with an amused expression as he watched the older fae pair.

  Relic’s blue eyes twinkled as he held out a hand to the woman. “Esmeralda, this be my wife, Yalda.”

  The old woman lifted the edges of her starched white apron and curtsied. “Pleased to meet ya.”

  Dove jumped from Esme’s lap and brushed against Yalda’s legs, which were covered in thick wool stockings.

  Esme couldn’t help but smile, though it made her head throb with greater pressure. She held her temples and kept the grin. “Hi, Yalda. You smell familiar, like the lemony thyme in Gram’s garden. Have I met you before?”