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

by Jennifer Rose McMahon

  She refocused on the full moon and strained to generate her communication skill.

  The Higher Order surrounded Solomon on three sides, attempting to contain his manifesting form.

  Desperation settled in around me as I absorbed the horrific turn of events.

  I looked at Hattie with sorrow in my gaze.

  I’d let her down. Our opportunity to get home to our parents had slipped through our fingers.

  Hattie returned a gaze of determination. One that hadn’t faltered in any way.

  She lifted her chin and began to hum. The vibration of her voice resonated through me and I stared in wonder. As her timeless hum grew louder, a strange whirling cloud generated where she held her eyes focused. She stared into it with stealth precision, and the swirling mist grew larger. Streaming, iridescent color circle in front of her then burst open like a window.

  I gasped as I stared through her portal. It showed images of the wolf, and then of the triangular hut.

  “Hell’s Gates,” I breathed. “Hattie?”

  “Come with me, Shaye!” she cried.

  I grabbed hold of her and attempted to leap through the open portal. She wouldn’t budge as she continued straining to hold the window open.

  “I can’t do it,” I cried. “And I’m not going without you.”

  Desperation welled up in my throat as it constricted in terror.

  And then, just as Solomon took full form and stood tall within the confines of the Higher Order, Clayton’s arms wrapped around me. He lifted me, and with a running start, lept through the portal with me in his secure hold.

  I turned back in horror, keeping my eyes fixed on Hattie. But then, she reached for me and made contact as Asher plunged her through the portal along with us.

  The four of us sailed through a spiraling wormhole as mind-shattering chaos bombarded us from every direction. The sound of fury and the universe colliding blew my vision into fragmented shards of light and shapes. Just as I was sure we’d be ripped to shreds in the violence of the blast, we landed with a thump.

  Silence surrounded me as a single beam of white light shined into my eyes. I blinked into the brightness, and gazed in awe at the full moon.

  Rustling pulled my attention off the lunar glow, and I reached for Hattie. Her squirming proved her disorientation, and I pulled her close. In that same moment, Clayton moved in around us, with Asher by his side.

  A gasp of relief blew out of me as I searched our surroundings.

  “Where are we?” I coughed.

  We stood up, brushing debris off of us, finding our returning balance.

  Clayton gazed into the surrounding trees and inhaled sharply. “Hell’s Gates,” he stated.

  We followed his line of vision and landed on the triangular structure looming in the shadows.

  “It’s the portal,” I gasped.

  As we stared in disbelief, movement from behind the hut caught our attention. The dark form hovered by the portal, pacing in nervous anticipation.

  “The wolf.” Clayton nodded at the creature. “He’s ready to take you home.”

  His voice broke on the last syllable, breaking my heart in two.

  Taking Hattie’s hand, we stepped closer to the portal. Asher and Clayton followed behind us, keeping watch of the surrounding area.

  “Promise you’ll help us come back,” I whispered.

  Clayton nodded. “I promise.”

  A faint glow radiated out from the hut, drawing us closer.

  A strange vibration moved through me, as if an electric current flowed around us. It lightened my heart and brought joy to my soul.

  Then I noticed a ball of blue light churning behind us. It rolled over on itself, generating light and ice cold air. As the blue sphere continued to hover, snow fell around us. It continued to wisp and accumulate, turning everything white.

  “The first snowfall,” Asher stated.

  “The Winter Wiccan.” I gazed at the blue haze, feeling my mother’s presence all around us.

  And then, as the magical elements all around us opened our minds to the universe, the light from the hut brightened.

  The four of us gazed into its magnificent energy, as the wolf circled around. Joining forces with the blue sphere, the wolf connected with the Winter Wiccan and together, they encircled us in an orb of protective energy.

  Gravity dissipated, and I gasped as my feet lifted off the ground. Hattie and Asher giggled with delight.

  “Hold on to each other,” Clayton called out.

  “Never let go,” I shrieked, as the four of us held together tight.

  And we blasted into the light of the triangular hut, guided by the essence of my parents.

  Epilogue

  The brass bell above the door jingled, and Temperance lifted her bored gaze.

  Three women entered the oldest witch house in New England, and the sales girl sized them up to determine if they were tourists in her witch shop or if they were true practitioners.

  “Can I help you?” Temperance stated.

  But just as the words left her mouth, she sensed they had something greater than shopping in mind.

  The one in the middle wore a sleek black suit with an ancient talisman hanging from her neck. Her stern expression and confident stature made clear she was the leader. The other two wore similar amulets, showing they were of the same order.

  A nervous twitch shook the edge of Temperance’s mouth.

  “We’ve come for some advice,” the leader said.

  “How can I be of assistance?” Her eyes narrowed.

  The leader gestured to the one to her right with jeweled dreadlocks and rings on every finger. The woman reached into her bag and pulled out an ancient Ouija Board.

  Temperance gasped.

  It was the board with the burned edges.

  The one that sat idle in her shop for years.

  It had been purchased by the girl from Hazeldene.

  “I know that board,” she gasped.

  “We hoped you would,” the leader said, stepping closer. “As the proprietor who passed the board to one of our untrained members, we now look to you for support. We need your assistance to make contact with our lost coven. They have moved to a realm outside of our own.”

  Temperance shifted unsteadily, listening to every word.

  “We also turn to you in hope that you can help us to banish the demon that was released from the board.”

  Temperance shook her head in fear. She never dabbled with Ouijas. She knew far too much about the evil forces that lurked within them.

  The leader continued, “And then, we’ll need your help to destroy it.”

  The End

  <<<<>>>>

  I hope you enjoyed MYSTIC COVEN - WINTER WICCAN

  The SECOND in a four-book series.

  Please click to leave a brief review

  Next up:

  MYSTIC COVEN - PAGAN PROPHECY

  Click here for Mystic Coven - Pagan Prophecy

  MYSTIC COVEN

  Book One-FIRE FESTIVAL

  Book Two-WINTER WICCAN

  Book Three-PAGAN PROPHECY

  Book Four-SOLSTICE SUMMONING

  ****************************

  Also, enjoy a free copy of Rockfleet, the prequel to Jennifer Rose McMahon’s Pirate Queen series.

  AN ANCIENT CURSE. A RELUCTANT SEER.

  A LEGEND REVEALED.

  Cursed with the gift of second sight, Maeve travels through her haunting visions to medieval Ireland to discover mysterious secrets within her clan – secrets that could change her life forever.

  Maeve must face her unseen enemies in a final attempt to protect her clan from obliteration. But will the heart-wrenching distraction of the rival clan chieftain’s son derail her before she is able to succeed and return to the future?

  In the quest of a lifetime, or centuries of lifetimes, Maeve must make an impossible choice between love and loyalty to end her curse before her time runs out, trapping her in the past forever. />
  If you knew your gift was a curse, would you use it?

  Get your free copy of Rockfleet by signing up for Jennifer Rose McMahon’s newsletter. Keep up with her new releases and awesome giveaways too!

  Click here for your FREE copy of Rockfleet

  ************************************

  Keep scrolling for a free sample of

  URBAN MYSTIC ACADEMY - FIRST PROJECT

  Brynn Douglas always knew she was different. She just had no idea that it could lead to the most amazing year of her life.

  Being different was what got Brynn invited into the Urban Mystic Academy. What she hadn't realized was how challenging and dangerous it would be. But becoming a part of the supernatural coven leads Brynn on the adventure of a lifetime, filled with magic, voodoo, time portals, and romantic intrigue.

  What she hadn't considered was the possibility of not surviving the academy through graduation

  FIRST PROJECT: Explore Hell's Gates.

  Can the legend of Hell's Gates be exposed by the project deadline, ending the curse that has upended Brynn's world? Or will her rogue response to the haunting Dark Witch, as well as the heart-wrenching distraction of two academy boys, stop her dead in her tracks?

  If you love G.K. DeRosa's Darkblood Academy, as well as Bella Forrest, K.F. Breene, Sarah J. Maas, and Jaymin Eve, you will absolutely love this complete six-book series. Keep scrolling for a free sample.

  MYSTIC COVEN - PAGAN PROPHECY

  Click for MYSTIC COVEN - Pagan Prophecy

  Be sure to visit my website for information about my other books.

  www.jenniferrosemcmahon.com

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  Jennifer Rose McMahon is a USA Today Bestselling Author who has been creating her stories since her college days abroad in Ireland. Her passion for urban legends, ancient cemeteries, abandoned asylums, and medieval ghost stories has fueled her adventurous storytelling, while her husband’s decadent brogue carries her imagination through the centuries. When she’s not writing about castles and curses, she can be found near Boston in a local coffee shop, yoga studio, or at the beach… most often answering to the name ‘Mom’ by her four young-adult children.

  www.jenniferrosemcmahon.com

  jenniferrosemcmahon@gmail.com

  Also by Jennifer Rose McMahon

  URBAN MYSTIC ACADEMY SERIES

  Urban Mystic Academy: First Project

  Urban Mystic Academy: Second Project

  Urban Mystic Academy: Third Project

  Urban Mystic Academy: Fourth Project

  Urban Mystic Academy: Final Project

  Urban Mystic Academy: Graduation

  MYSTIC COVEN SERIES

  Mystic Coven: Fire Festival

  Mystic Coven: Winter Wiccan

  Mystic Coven: Pagan Prophecy

  Mystic Coven: Solstice Summoning

  ASYLUM SAVANT SERIES

  The Shuttered Ward, Book One

  The Excited Ward, Book Two

  The Forgotten Ward, Book Three

  IRISH MYSTIC LEGENDS SERIES

  Legend Hunter, Book One

  Curse Raider, Book Two

  Truth Seer, Book Three

  PIRATE QUEEN SERIES

  Bohermore, Book One

  Inish Clare, Book Two

  Ballycroy, Book Three

  Rockfleet, Prequel (best read as Book 2.5)

  Sample of Urban Mystic Academy

  Purple dye dripped off the ends of my hair, creating bold splatter patterns across the porcelain sink. I pulled my fingers through the full length to be sure color coated every strand. Staring into my unimpressed eyes, I told the mirror, "You can do this. Again."

  Moving to another school should have felt natural at this point. I'd done it enough times—once a year, practically. Mom always decided to move during the summer months to make the transitions smoother. I was supposed to believe that was thoughtful of her. But the truth was, it felt more like we were running from something at every turn. Our landlords were always ready to call the sheriff, in hopes of getting some rent for a change. Mom wasn't the best at keeping up with such trivial matters.

  So, here we were again. A new town. Another chance for a new identity. A fresh start.

  No thanks.

  That might have sounded good freshman year, but I was a senior now. I didn't need any more fresh starts. I was ready to get on with my life and leave all this crap and uncertainty behind me. I'd figure out what to do on my own, once I had my diploma.

  Fortunately, I understood that my education was my power. Without it, I'd remain trapped in this cycle of dysfunction forever, and there was no way I'd settle for that. I even had a twisted pipe dream of attending college... somehow.

  But for now, I decided I would stick with my usual plan for my new school. I'd keep my head down, ignore everyone, and just get through the next one hundred and eighty school days to my freedom.

  Blinking into the mirror, I noticed that the purple dye made my hair look black, and a twinge of panic ran through me. I just wanted a subtle violet hue over my dirty blonde hair—something to say, "Leave me alone. I have a lot on my mind,"—not a full-on goth-look. With a shrug of my shoulders, I realized either would be fine. It didn't matter.

  But then, it was the strange look in my eyes, more than my odd hair, that caught my attention.

  I held a lost gaze. The deep blue of my irises was like the abyss of the ocean depths. The color whirled like a downward vortex, making me dizzy, and I shook my head to steady it. I stared into the mirror again and gasped as a stranger stared back at me, searching like they were struggling to find a way out.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. The reflection had been my own, but somehow I didn't know her.

  A strange feeling brewed in my gut, as memories of a place I'd never been flashed through my mind—an unusual metal gate, deep woods, glowing purple flames.

  My stomach tightened, sending nervous energy through me, clenching my teeth.

  Then the image of a star surrounded by intricate symbols flashed in my mind. The vision caused me to stand up tall as it struck me deep in my core.

  Here it comes again—my evil anxiety.

  Sweat broke out on my forearms—the constant physical indicator of my inner stress.

  I lifted one hand to rub my arm and then stopped short at the sight of purple dye all over my hands.

  Shit! I'd forgotten to use the gloves in the kit.

  My heart rate jumped ten levels as I cranked the faucet on. Hot water rushed out of the tap, scorching the skin off my hands as I fumbled to get the temperature right. Wet, plum-colored dye flew everywhere, splashing onto the white tiles behind the sink and on the floor. In the back of my mind, I knew the mess would be hell to clean up, but my panic drove me forward, scrubbing furiously.

  Adding soap to a full lather, I rinsed my hands only to reveal a blotchy tie-dye effect all over my skin. My fingernails were the worst with black stains under the nails and dark purple lines at the cuticles. Frantically, I ripped open the alcohol wipe included in the coloring box for 'touch-up' and wiped it all over my hands, digging it under my nails.

  It helped a little.

  But the damage was done.

  Great.

  First day of school tomorrow, and I looked like the walking dead.

  At least my hair turned out well.

  Once it dried, the shade of purple glowed like lavender. It was perfect.

  My hands, however... not so much.

  And the state of the bathroom after my Armageddon... a disaster. Once my mother woke from her Svedka-coma, she’d be sure to deliver some sound verbal lashings and hours of scrubbing. My welcomed escape for the moment was school.

  Shame-of-the-day number one: purple zombie hands.

  Shame number two: no car.

  Finding a part-time job was a must, but for now, I had to survive on my measly savings from DQ. It was enough to keep my wardrobe decent and
my cell phone activated but far from paying for driver's ed or a vehicle of any form.

  The school was within walking distance though, ten minutes max, so that was a plus.

  I hoisted my light pack over my shoulder and stepped out into the all-too-early morning. Commuter traffic hadn't even started up yet, and here I was heading off for the day. It was pure torture. My bed always beckoned me back at this point, but I fought the familiar urge to return to it, and powered on.

  Moving past the lake by my house, I noticed how pretty it was for the first time. I glanced around the neighborhood, seeing mature maples, flags hanging from telephone poles, and a free-library box on the corner, full of books for the taking. It was actually a charming town.

  I shot my eyes forward again, refusing to allow myself to like it here.

  It was too nice for us.

  It wouldn't last.

  It never did.

  Following the GPS on my phone, I had three minutes until arriving at the school. I slowed my pace to avoid the inevitable, but it was too late. Busses passed me, and a few more walkers filled the sidewalk, proving I was almost there.

  My anxiety tweaked at me, and I swallowed hard to keep it down. Everyone would know I was the new girl, and I prepared myself for the unrelenting stares.

  It wasn't my ripped jeans and leather jacket that would stand out most, though. It was my hair. Okay, and now my hands, too.

  Why did I always do this to myself? It was like I couldn't help it. Different school, different hair color. Maybe it was subconscious since my mother hated it so much. I wasn't sure. All I knew was that I was compelled to do it.

  Every time.