Mystic Coven: Winter Wiccan (Supernatural Academy Graduates Book 2)

by Jennifer Rose McMahon

  We hadn't planned to stay behind with them like this, but somehow, we'd all remained in our seats, knowing there was more to be discussed.

  Hattie and Asher fidgeted in their seats, while Noah and Piper sat rigid.

  I held my breath, waiting for whatever was to come, feeling Clayton's anxious eyes on me.

  Ms. Reed leaned in and looked at each of us.

  "The six of you have a unique bond," she started. "It's a powerful force that generates a higher level of supernatural energy. With that power comes obligation."

  I swallowed hard, preparing for her next words.

  "We must maintain contact with our founding coven," she continued. "Their gifts are the foundation of all we have and all we do. They created Hazeldene as a way of preserving their existence, as well as nurturing future covens such as your own. It is our duty to protect them."

  Noah shifted in his seat, causing a loud scraping noise across the wood floor, sending nervous energy through the group. Piper reached for his hand to soothe him, but instead, knocked a glass of water over and jumped like a skittish cat.

  "Oh, sorry. Sorry."

  She swatted at the spill with her napkin as Noah pushed back to avoid getting soaked. His chair made an even louder sound along the wood floor, causing my teeth to clench.

  I threw additional napkins at the wet mess as the others held their breaths.

  The tension in the air grew tighter.

  Ms. Reed ignored the commotion and continued speaking, pulling our attention back.

  "Dominic Murphy is a prominent member of the UMA coven. He built the original portal that began the circle of events which continue to cycle through the realm of time."

  She glanced at Hattie. Then at me.

  "Your father." She paused for a moment, allowing the words to soak deep into our souls. "He used his gifts as a means to save his family. You see, his true love, Millicent, had become pregnant during the rise of the witch hunts. Her beauty and whit had drawn many suitors, all of which she'd cast away. Their hurt egos and foul jealousy were the beginning of Dominic and Millicent's demise."

  Ms. Harrison shifted in her seat, and I noticed beads of sweat on her upper lip.

  Ms. Reed lowered her gaze to the table, allowing space for Ms. Harrison to chime in.

  Ms. Harrison wiped her mouth with her napkin and looked up at us with misty eyes.

  "I was there," she whispered. "I witnessed the hysteria of the murderous mob. Their intent to burn witches generated irrational thinking among the villagers. Panic took over any chance of rational action."

  She turned her face from us as if in shame.

  I looked at Ms. Reed, confused.

  "Dominic's portal held the power to change the course of historical events. A risky and most dangerous choice. But he did it for love." Ms. Reed held her gaze on me.

  I rubbed my hands over my eyes, trying desperately to make sense of what it could all mean.

  "But you see," Ms. Reed continued. "Time has a way of overlapping on itself. Its parallels don't always remain separate in the void of the abyss."

  Asher stared with a dropped jaw as if Ms. Reed was a haunting shaman, and from his perspective, he wasn't far off the mark. Her wide eyes were bright against her rich black skin, creating an effect of unworldly intensity. And the sparkle of her gemstone rings and flashing talisman added to her ethereal presence.

  The rest of us listened with equal awe, entranced by every word, taking them in like oxygen.

  Ms. Harrison then readjusted in her seat, pulling her cardigan around herself, and took a deep, cleansing breath.

  She squared her shoulders, exuding more confidence now as she placed her hands on the table.

  "We were able to reset the horrors of the past," she said. "Generating a second chance for Dominic and the others. Millicent. And her sisters, Gertie and Courtney. They found their redemption through the power of the portal."

  I blinked slowly, preparing for what was to come next.

  "But now?" I asked.

  Ms. Harrison glanced at Ms. Reed and then back to me.

  "Ms. Reed has seen the state of the homestead back in their time. Danger has re-emerged. The witch hunt has returned its attention now to the daughters of Dominic and Millicent."

  Hattie and I froze.

  Ms. Harrison hesitated and swallowed hard. "With particular wrathful focus on the first child. The one born out of wedlock."

  Born out of wedlock?

  Was that even considered a thing anymore?

  But then I remembered. We were talking about a time period four centuries ago. Puritans. God-fearing villagers. Little knowledge of scientific fact. Hysteria around the unexplainable. Belief that witches were to be hung or burned at the stake.

  A shudder ran through me as I absorbed the truth that coursed through my veins.

  I was that child.

  The love child born out of wedlock in a time when such a thing was seen as the greatest sin one could commit.

  No wonder my father had to send me through the portal.

  It was for my own safety during my most vulnerable years.

  Ms. Reed sat taller.

  "They are in danger once again," she said. "I've seen it through the eyes of the gateway. The villagers believe Dominic and Millicent are hiding their daughters, proving their guilt to the hysterical believers. It is only a matter of time before they are burned out of their homestead, and disaster will rain down on them."

  Hattie gasped and covered her mouth as my hands smacked down on the table.

  "I must go to them now," I exclaimed. "They need me."

  My eyes widened in panic as I imagined my parents fighting against a losing battle. Terror filled me with each passing second.

  Time was wasting.

  "Haste," Ms. Reed stated. "We must plan and be meticulous in our approach."

  "No," I blasted, feeling every ounce of my impulsivity shooting through my body. "I must go now."

  There was no more time for deciding if and when to go.

  The decision was clear.

  I was going.

  And no one could stop me.

  "Not so fast," a stern voice pushed through the mahogany doors.

  All eyes turned to the figure moving into the dining hall.

  And my air fell out of me as Chancellor Kelly entered the room.

  Everyone stood as Chancellor Kelly entered the dining room. Clayton grabbed an ornate chair next to the grandfather clock and moved it to the head of the table for her.

  Ms. Reed and Ms. Harrison adjusted their chairs on either side of her as the rest of us stared. The chancellor commanded our full attention as we gawked at her sleek black suit with a band-like mandarin collar. The diamond-shaped talisman hanging from her neck held my focus more than usual as I gazed into its center crystal. I blinked to clear the swirling that dizzied me from within the stone.

  Chancellor Kelly motioned her hands for us all to sit. Without a sound, we followed her direction while focusing on her every move.

  She remained standing and placed her fingertips on the table.

  "We are at a crossroads," she began. "One that will require precision and planning. Not impulsivity and reactivity." She glanced at me. "We will do what is right for our founders, and what is right for the fragile balance of nature. Each move we make will have a profound effect on every other motion."

  "The butterfly effect," Clayton stated.

  "Precisely," the chancellor nodded. "The slightest flutter of a fragile wing can generate a chain of events to create a hurricane."

  She lifted her fingers from the table and then sat. Glancing at each of us, she pondered her next words.

  "There is much to be learned about the history of the portals. It must be studied and understood before the leap is made."

  I sat up taller. "But how? How can we learn about something so elusive?"

  My impatience couldn't hide as I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  "The archives," she stated. "They hol
d the records of the history of Hazeldene. The history of your past." She looked straight at me.

  I immediately thought of the ledger in the archives, the one we'd flipped through when we snuck in. It held incredible amounts of information about each student at the academy. But there had to be more.

  Then I remembered the shelves behind the center table in the archives. They were lined with leather-bound journals and time-worn books of all sizes. The history of Hazeldene was hidden within those bindings.

  I held my breath, waiting for her next words.

  Chancellor Kelly kept her eyes on me without blinking. "I grant permission to the Mystic Coven to access the records of the archives."

  Chapter 4

  My heart skipped a beat as my life flashed in front of my eyes.

  Gaining full access to the records in the archives opened an entirely new level of opportunity and knowledge. The history of Hazeldene was a mystery that most of us accepted as normal. But I had always been distracted by my curiosity about how it came to be, and now was my chance to understand it all.

  And apparently, my family had a direct connection to Hazeldene’s founding.

  It was hard to believe that my lineage went back to the time of the witch trials, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I'd always known. I felt it deep within my bones.

  But now that my connection to the witch hunts was so close, a new level of fear churned in my soul.

  My plan, the one where I went back to my family, not only involved a reunion that had centuries of time apart, but now it also included danger in a time of incredible instability. Our kind was misunderstood in the 1600s. And to be honest, we were still shunned in the present. We were once considered dangerous and devil-like, and now we were called unstable freaks.

  Either way, we were the gifted ones—those who were connected to the rhythms of the world around us and the universe. We held power beyond the simple, superficial approach to life. We were enlightened.

  I took a deep breath, watching the three mystical women of the Higher Order exit the dining room. They'd left us alone, speechless, with the promise of ancient wisdom.

  "Soooo, we get to see the legendary catacombs and the coffins?" Noah asked, breaking the silence.

  "Oh, we already have," Hattie blasted, smacking her hand over her mouth as soon as the words escaped.

  "What? That's not fair," Asher spat.

  Hattie shot her eyes to mine in apology for spilling our secret.

  "It's okay, Hattie," I said. "It's time we told the rest of the coven about our discovery. The six of us need to share everything with each other if we are to continue getting stronger."

  Piper tipped her head and stared at me with a bored expression.

  Her disappointment wasn't lost in the glare. She was clearly getting tired of being left out.

  "We needed to find information about Hattie and me. We knew we'd get some answers in the archives," I confessed.

  Noah and Piper looked at each other with lips pressed to the side.

  "You guys know the archives are forbidden," Clayton added. "We didn't want to put all of us at risk."

  Noah's eyes widened and zoomed in on Clayton.

  "You went too?"

  His tone exposed his jealousy, making me cringe.

  Piper's eyes narrowed on me, and for the first time, I noted a hint of jealousy in her. Noah's reaction was strong, I had to admit. But she needed to know that there was nothing between us and never had been.

  I lowered my eyes from her scrutinizing gaze.

  And she wasn't wrong to feel the way she did.

  It was no secret Noah had liked me for a very long time. I had to just keep telling myself that his attention was ultimately what brought him and Piper closer together. I just hoped she would see it that way too.

  Clayton bared his teeth. "Uh, yeah. I went too." His shoulders rose to his ears. "I guess I needed some more background on my own past. I've suppressed it for long enough."

  Noah shook his head.

  "Whatever." He glanced at Piper and then back at us. "So, did you see anything about me?"

  Clayton and I laughed out loud, releasing the tension that had built between all of us.

  "Yeah, man. You're from the sideshow of an 18th-century circus."

  Noah jolted in his seat, feigning injury, and Piper put a settling hand on his shoulder.

  "No, really, you guys," she said. "Did you see anything about either of us?"

  I shook my head.

  "No. We were careful to just look at our own information."

  I thought about what I had seen about Josie, and a bolt of guilt shot through me. It was none of my business to see her history, but the word ghost had jumped from the page like a flash of lightning.

  "Can't say it wasn't tempting, though," Clayton added.

  Noah shrugged. "Not even sure if I'd want to know."

  Piper nodded. "Same."

  I bit my lower lip, knowing they were right. The truth of one's origin could be very painful to face, particularly for sensitives like us. Most of us had either been abandoned or institutionalized for strange, unexplainable behaviors.

  The fact that I had been sent here for training was an oddity in itself—one I needed to learn more about.

  If I was going to launch home to my parents, the least I could do would be to arrive with the skills they'd hoped I'd learned.

  The archives held the answers of what was expected of me.

  And our next steps were the ones that led down to the depths of the secret catacombs.

  Asher rubbed his sleepy eyes as we snuck into the dark kitchen. His wavy mop of auburn hair was the definitive example of bedhead, shooting sparkling copper highlights into the darkness.

  "Why do we have to go at midnight?" he whined. "Can't we just wait until morning?"

  "Don't be such a sissy," Hattie teased. She squared her shoulders, accentuating the fact that she was taller than him. "It's better in the middle of the night."

  "But what about the bones? And skulls? And will there be blood?" Asher tip-toed across the cold tile floor.

  I grinned, shining my flashlight toward his face.

  "No, Asher. It's not like that," I said. "It's more like a historical family crypt than a gruesome crime scene."

  He nodded, but his wide eyes betrayed him.

  We had no choice but to come in the middle of the night, though. The catacombs and archives were still off limits to everyone. House historian, Prof Finneas, was the only one with approved access, besides the Higher Order. The location was a secret held tight in Hazeldene, and we intended to keep it that way.

  Clayton grabbed the brass ring of the old-fashioned keys, and we followed him to the obscure cellar door.

  "The broom closet?" Noah hissed. His face contorted in confusion.

  "That's what I thought all this time, too," I quipped with a grin. "I swear, everyone in the house thinks that's what it is."

  Clayton turned the key in the lock as delicately as possible, but the inevitable clunk made us all jump. Our eyes shot in every direction, searching for hidden spies or secret police. Once the silence settled in around us again, we shimmied closer to the passageway.

  Asher's nerves resonated off him like rippling energy. His imagination had likely conjured mummies and zombies of every variety. I actually felt bad for him as I considered the mission from his perspective.

  "It'll be okay down there, Asher," I said. "You have nothing to worry ab..."

  And just as the words left my lips, a waft of stale air moved through us, causing my face to grimace. The stench of death was all around and grew more putrid as we took the first step down.

  "What is that?" Hattie held her nose in disgust.

  Asher closed his eyes and took a deep inhale.

  "It's the calling home," he said, causing us all to pause and look at him.

  His peaceful expression soothed whatever anxiety his words had created within me. I shook my head, to forget the eer
ie sound of his voice, and convinced myself it was only Asher's discomfort speaking.

  Clayton cast his light all around as we continued moving down the granite stairs. Noah closed the door behind us, and followed at the rear. Our flashlights cut through the thick darkness as we descended into the cold basement. Moldy must stung my eyes as they adjusted to the low light, and Asher sniffed at the air again.

  "It goes deeper," he said, glancing at the pentagram design in the tiled floor.

  Piper and Noah stepped into the center of the pentagram, inspecting its shape, kicking at its loose, broken edges. Then Noah glanced to the far side of the dark room and coughed.

  "What the hell is that?" He pointed to the massive crucifix hovering over a marble altar.

  "It's a private chapel," Clayton chuffed as if Noah were daft. "Most large estates had them back then."

  "Sometimes they had to keep their worship hidden, you know, in times of religious unrest," I added.

  Noah shrugged. "Oh."

  The shudder that shook through his body couldn't be hidden, though. He was rattled.

  Asher stepped past the altar and hovered at the far corner of the room. He pointed into the dark alcove that hid a narrow stairway.

  "It goes deeper," he repeated.

  I moved closer to him.

  "That's right, Asher. There's another level to the basement."

  My eyes narrowed on him as he peered into the depths of the passageway.

  "The catacombs," he said.

  The confidence in his voice took me aback.

  "Yes."

  I watched his every move as he stood taller and inhaled a deep breath. His nerves had settled, replaced now with focus and agency.

  "Are we going down there?" Piper whispered as her flashlight shook in her hand.

  Her fear surprised me. She was usually up for adventures, particularly ones like this. Treasure hunts were her favorite, and this was by far the most exciting we'd ever done.

  "Piper, the archives are down there," I answered. "It will be fine."

  She glanced into the pitch-black passageway and then at Noah.

  He moved closer to her and looked at me as if to be sure we really had to go down there.