The Witches of Hant Hollow

by D. F. Jones

  “So, you believe in ghosts?”

  She tilted her head to the side. “I believe in the Holy Ghost so it seems to me there would be other ghosts too.”

  “You’re a delight. Would you like for me to give Anthony a message?”

  “Not really. I’ll see Dad at dinner. Good day, sir.” Before she turned, Dale grabbed her hand, bent over, and placed a kiss on it.

  The nerve of the man.

  If he weren't a business associate, she’d smack his smarmy face. She withdrew her hand and quickly left the bank.

  She sensed more to the Rogers family drama than Dale let on, and she intended to find out what.

  Chapter 2

  Jasmine ran into the hollow and quickly shapeshifted into a calico cat. She clawed her way up to the top of the cedar tree and watched Jonathan drive away in his wagon. His kindness and gallantry touched her heart.

  Jasmine could’ve used magic to stop the boys, but Grandmother Iris had forbidden spellcasting in town.

  She stayed in the tree until Jonathan disappeared from her sight; then she made her way home. Jasmine shifted back into her human form and stopped briefly to catch her breath.

  The boys hated her, and she didn’t even know them. They wanted to kill her. She read their thoughts. They might have succeeded if Jonathan hadn’t intervened.

  What would her grandmother do to the boys if she found out?

  Iris didn’t take kindly to mortals hurting her family after the murders of Aunt Silver and Cousin Aster.

  Jasmine walked along the path. To the left of the house, Iris worked in the herb and vegetable garden wearing a wide-brim hat, long sleeve shirt and a wide skirt hitting at the ankles. Jasmine didn’t know the exact age of her grandmother, but she didn’t look a day past twenty-one, a timeless beauty with light auburn hair, cobalt blue eyes and full lips. Her peachy skin held no imperfections.

  Jasmine’s mother, Isidore, Aunt Peony, and Aunt Silver had different fathers. Heck, she’d never met her dad. The Witches of Hant Hollow thought loving and living with a mate meant weakness.

  She’d only seen them with males during the Solstice Festivals, holiday parties, and the occasional ball. Except for Lavender, her best friend, and first cousin. She loved men, wizards, werewolves, and vampires. She didn’t discriminate.

  Thinking of Lavender made her smile.

  Jasmine’s eyes widened as Iris made an incision in her forefinger with a paring knife, then walked the garden rows allowing droplets of blood to splat into the earth.

  Why was she using blood?

  Jasmine made a mental note to research the use of blood in the garden during her spell, potions, and charm study time in their library. All types of books filled their library including books on light and dark magic.

  She glanced down and tried dusting off her clothes once more, then ran up the porch stairs into the front foyer nearly knocking her mother down.

  Isidore held her face. “What happened?”

  She fell into her mother’s arms and hugged her tightly. “Oh, townies again. This time a group of teenage boys tried to stone me to death, but this kind man named Jonathan saved me. He stood between the boys and me. He protected me with his life.”

  “A little comfrey root will fix you right up.” Isidore let out a deep sigh and caressed Jasmine’s cheek before pulling her into the bright yellow kitchen. “You know you aren’t allowed to make friends with the mortals. We can’t trust them under any circumstance. One day, they’re nice to your face, and the next day, they’re stoning you or worse.” She pressed the herbal paste on Jasmine’s eye and held it there with a cold washcloth. “Hold the compress while I make you a treat.”

  Lavender stepped into the kitchen and gasped. “Jasmine, who did this to you? Let me know, and they’ll wish they’d never been born.”

  Jasmine grinned. “Oh, I’ll be okay. It isn’t the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.” She repeated the story of the attack and meeting Jonathan. She omitted that he’d given her a ride home.

  Lavender twirled her long white-blond hair and secured it in place with magic. “Jonathan is incredibly good-looking. Well done, Jasmine.”

  Isidore frowned. “Let’s not encourage her, please. You know mortals are off limits. We have much to do, and so little time left to do it in. The summer festival is only a couple of weeks away.”

  “But mortals are so much fun to play with.”

  Isidore shook her head. “You are incorrigible.”

  “Yeah, but you love me.”

  Jasmine held the cloth against her eye as she shifted her position in the chair. She loved the kitchen. It was one of her favorite places in the house whether they cooked food or prepared potions.

  The kitchen had bright yellow walls, tall cedar cabinets, and a large stone fireplace the length of the back wall that was big enough to roast a pig or contain several large black kettle pots. Twelve-foot arched bay windows let in loads of natural lighting in the day, and stars and moonlight streamed in at night.

  Isidore sat a plate of tea cakes and a pitcher of milk on the table. “After you finish your treats, I need you to start washing the vegetables to prepare for canning. Iris is hiring servants for the celebration, but she wants to use our recipes.”

  Lavender rolled her eyes. “Why can’t we just use magic? It’s much faster, and it tastes the same.”

  “Magic has a time and place but expends much energy. You may not enjoy the practice of spellcasting later if you spend your energy on menial tasks now.” She turned to Jasmine while wiping her hands off with a dish towel. “You’ve been named the fortune teller for the summer festival.”

  Jasmine’s face lit up. “I can’t believe it. Really?” She had a gift in foretelling the future and only used tarot cards and tea leaves as props for the mortals.

  Her mom nodded and smiled.

  Lavender said, “Aunt Esiey, tell us about the old ones.”

  “You’re stalling, precious. But if you promise to help me the rest of the afternoon, I’ll tell you the story, again.”

  “Promise.”

  Isidore continued washing the vegetables without looking up. “Once upon a time, there was a group of influential and talented women descended from the Celtics. The women fought against the underworld of darkness with the divine powers from the Goddess of Light. Our leader, Dreena, the Lady of Light, passed down the knowledge and gifts from one generation to another. The Doanharts trained with the best of the ancient ones and that’s why our library is full of books and documents. Some of the sacred scrolls predate the Babylonian area.”

  Jasmine removed the compress. “I met Dreena last year. She doesn’t age either, and she’s incredibly beautiful. I hear she’s coming to the celebration.”

  Isidore brought the vegetables over to the fireplace and scraped them into the boiling pot. “Yes, and she’s staying with us. So, that’s why we must finish canning and gathering the food stores. The house will be full of guests.”

  Jasmine went over to the well and drew a pail of water, then placed it on the wood-burning stove to boil.

  Lavender said, “Come on, Aunt Esiey, finish the story. You’re getting to the good part.”

  “Well, let me see, where was I? Oh yes, in the beginning, the mortals living in our community held our wise women and our powers sacred. Until one day, a group of men arrived wearing long black robes, black caps, and they had long beards. The men proclaimed to the community that the wise women’s magic came from the devil. The men called the women, witches, and made the people scared of the women they’d known all their lives. The men blamed the wise women for every sickness and misfortune in the community.”

  The mantel over the fireplace held jars of herbs and spices. Isidore chose carefully from each jar, sprinkling the contents into the kettle as she continued the story. “Many of the gifted women, that had saved many lives in the community, were tortured and killed while the other wise women took the sacred documents and fled to the four corners of th
e world to escape the wrath of the black-robed men. Those men are why we’re called witches. Personally, I wear the witch name as a badge of honor to those that sacrificed their lives so that we could live.”

  Jasmine stirred one of the black kettle pots. “But our magic comes from the light, not the darkness.”

  Isidore glanced up and said, “Well, yes and no. That’s when the two factions of our people formed. The first group of wise women remains faithful to Dreena, the reigning Lady of Light, and the second group follows Urslina, who formed a separate group of witches using the dark arts. To this day, the Lady of Light and the Queen of the Dark Night are constantly at odds. We come together during the winter and summer solstice celebrations to reconcile.”

  Jasmine said, “But both sides want to control the magic.”

  Isidore slowly stirred the pot, scraping the sides. “Yes, that is unfortunate. Just remember, once a witch calls upon Urslina and the dark powers, they rarely return to the light. Don’t open the door to evil unless you want it to come in. Iris teaches us from the Book of Light, but she practices the dark arts, and its power remains within her.”

  Jasmine shuddered. “No doubt. She scares me to death sometimes.”

  “Me too, and her foul moods are ghastly.”

  “Girls, you’re disrespectful.”

  Lavender shrugged. “Well, it’s the truth.”

  “I believe Iris had a chance of returning to the light once. I think she loved Jonathan’s father. Thomas almost succeeded in destroying the darkness within her, but unfortunately, in the end, he only made the darkness grow.”

  “My Jonathan?” Jasmine asked in shock.

  Lavender laughed and playfully shoved Jasmine. Mimicking Jasmine’s voice, she said, “My Jonathan?”

  Jasmine zapped Lavender in the behind, and she yelped.

  Jasmine asked, “How? What did he do?”

  “He married Jonathan’s mother.”

  Jasmine said, “Well, then, let’s not tell Iris about me meeting him today.”

  Isidore smiled. “It’s probably wise. Why don’t you and Lavender go on to the library and start studying the Book of Spells? You never know when Iris will give you a test.”

  “I thought we were canning vegetables.”

  “We are, but I have to parboil them a couple of times and then allow the vegetables to cool. I’ll call you when I need help.”

  “All right. There’s something I want to look up anyway.”

  Isidore nodded, and then Jasmine and Lavender raced down the wide hallway.

  At the door of the library, Lavender looked both ways and whispered, “Don’t tell. I’m meeting Brody in the glen. He’s trekking the terrain for the layout of the festival. I do love a man in the Mage Alliance uniform.” She popped out of sight.

  Jasmine shook her head and entered the library. She loved the smell of old books. Each book released a different scent and the chemicals within the pages carried messages to her brain. She’d read most of them.

  Jasmine.

  Her ears pricked at the sound of her name.

  Jasmine.

  She turned and followed the sound to the oldest section of the library where the forbidden hand-written books on delicate papyrus, rolled scrolls, and ancient leather-bound books filled the top tier of the bookshelves.

  She glanced over her shoulder and wiggled her finger to lock the library door and then floated to the second landing. Her fingers scanned across the books searching for the one calling out to her.

  Jasmine.

  The hair on the nape of her neck rose. Light shimmered through the windows catching the dust particles dancing in the air.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sound of her name.

  Jasmine.

  Holding her hand's palms up, she said, “Come to me and let me see the book that beckons me.” She peeked through one eye, then opened the other. No book appeared, but behind the scrolls, a golden light glimmered.

  Iris would kill her if she caught Jasmine sifting through the archaic texts. The ancient manuscripts were the oldest in the library and forbidden to all, except Iris.

  As the scrolls parted, what looked like an antique jewelry box with mother-of-pearl inlay opened to her.

  Pick up the golden jeweled stone.

  Her fingers trembled as she pulled the box to the edge of the wooden shelf and opened the lid. She found two round golden sun discs each encrusted with large ruby stone similar in shape and size engraved with what appeared to be hieroglyphics. But they weren’t Egyptian. She’d studied Egyptian hieroglyphics, and her grandmother owned several ancient Egyptian pieces.

  Part of her told Jasmine to put the box back, but her curiosity got the better of her.

  She picked up the disc and faded from the library into a room bathed in warm sunlight. The incandesce filled the dense air.

  No sky. No ground.

  “I am the Goddess of Light, and you’re holding one of the Mouijah Stones.”

  Jasmine wanted to throw herself at the feet of the light, but nothing existed except the sound of her voice. So, she bowed her head and lowered her eyes.

  “You don’t need to fear me. I’m here to warn you of an encompassing darkness. One that will try to claim your soul. But you will not let it. I’m here to help you. I have always been here. I understand you feel strange, but it will pass. Light and Darkness have coexisted for many millennia. You cannot have one without the other. The Lord Darkness, you call death, comes for each being. But you do not have to give him your soul.”

  Jasmine rocked back and forth in a weightless state. She worried for a second she might vomit on the Goddess. Headiness and heaviness nearly took her, but somehow, she managed to stay alert.

  Tongue-tied, Jasmine wanted to ask questions, but what?

  “Are you flesh or spirit?’ It sounded better in her mind than when she asked the question.

  “I am both. I understand you’re overwhelmed. Open your ears that you may hear. There are two discs. One is to call me, and the other is to call The Lord Darkness. When you need guidance, I am here. No one will ever know of our conversations, especially not your grandmother. But remember, if you ever call on the Lord Darkness, he will expect payment. He will expect a soul.”

  She nodded. “I-I’m not quite sure what to ask except, why me?”

  “You have a generous heart, and you seek to help and not harm.”

  She frowned. “How did the discs end up in our library?”

  “Your grandmother stole them for Urslina. She was called to keep them safe, but she is changing, and I no longer trust her.”

  “How am I to help? What do you want from me?”

  “You will know how to help and what I want when the time is right.”

  The light faded and once again Jasmine stood in library holding the sun disc. She placed it back in the box and the box melted into the scrolls.

  Did she want the responsibility of caring for the Mouijah Stones?

  She spoke softly. “I will try and honor you, Goddess of Light.”

  Her chest tightened as the realization struck her that she’d been called to offset her grandmother’s darkness.

  An invisible line drawn in the sand with two witches living in the same house wielding the enormous powers of the Light and Dark magic.

  Chapter 3

  At full capacity, Rogers Mill employed two dozen workers. Most loyal to Jonathan’s father, Thomas. Bud had been with the company the longest, and he’d managed to snag one of the new office keys.

  Saturday night, Jonathan parked in between the logging trucks. He didn’t expect anyone to be on the premises but wanted to be safe rather than sorry. He crept along the cedar tree line to the side entrance of the shop. He pulled the borrowed key out of his pocket and wiggled it into the lock, and the door opened. He glanced over his shoulder before entering the office.

  Jonathan spent most of his childhood running around the grounds and office. He worked summers during school, and after he gradua
ted, he’d trained for every position. His dad told him that working every job would make him a better boss.

  Inside the main office, nothing changed, but Dale had renovated Thomas’s office. No old framed illustrations of the state maps decorated the room. His mother’s framed photo no longer sat on the desk, and no pictures of him and his father hung on the walls.

  Jonathan resisted the urge to pummel the walls with holes. Destroying the property wouldn’t get the mill back. He must prove Dale killed his dad or that he forged the will or Jonathan needed to find the deed to Rogers Mill.

  Patience was not Jonathan’s virtue.

  He lit one lantern and started going through Dale’s desk. An hour later, he’d nearly given up hope when he found a locked safe installed behind a framed piece of art of two bears dancing.

  Jonathan tried several combinations, and then entered the day of his dad’s death. Left zero. Right four. Left ten. Right thirteen. The door hissed and released.

  Jonathan’s fingers trembled. In order, he pulled out each item, until he found the original deed handed down to his father by his grandfather, James. In the large envelope, he found a letter. The letter was written by Thomas and notarized by the bank president’s predecessor. Tiny pricks like needles rose on his arms.

  He placed the deed in his coat, then put the empty envelope back in the safe and closed the safe door. Outside, he heard people shouting.

  Jonathan looked for a way out.

  Nothing.

  He remembered the attic. He hopped on a desk beneath the square in the ceiling and pushed the attic door to the side then pulled himself up. He barely slid the attic door in place when the office door opened.

  Dale shouted, “I arranged for you to take over the bank so I could pick off the farms nearing collapse. Land, Morgan. The land is what makes men rich.”

  “You and I have a deal. Partners, fifty-fifty. How did you get rid of Thomas?”

  “Never you mind.”

  Jonathan watched through a crack in the ceiling as Dale enter the combination of the safe, the door opened, and he placed another envelope inside. Dale had no doubt stolen another farm. He shook with anger.