Coon Hollow Coven Tales 1-3

by Marsha A. Moore

  He jumped up, grabbed her upper arms hard, and shook her. He glared into her face. “You aren’t no witch, you hear.” His face turned beet red and tears rolled down his cheeks. His words slurred. “You aren’t. Not my little girl. They can’t have my little Jancie, too.”

  Jancie felt his pain, searing with a fresh wound. They both hurt.

  It was hard enough for Jancie to find her path as an adult, but as a witch with powers she didn’t understand, it was overwhelming. She needed her dad’s support but wasn’t sure she’d get it after all he’d been through.

  She reached her arms around his waist, and he pulled her close.

  Chapter Twenty: Before the Full Moon

  “I tell you, I’m not seeing Jancie.” Rowe’s voice rose as he repeated the declaration for the third time to Adara. With mounting frustration, a prickling sensation bothered his right fingers. He wanted to retaliate against her for attacking Jancie at the bank yesterday. He thrust the hand deep into his trouser pocket to keep the inevitable telltale blue magic from revealing his anger.

  Adara lifted her single brow left uncovered by the over-dramatic wave of raven hair across her face. “Think carefully. I have no room for deception on my council.”

  He nodded and looked through the open council office door to the entry hall.

  “And what about that fake moonstone you’re wearing?” Her words curled around his face and forced him to turn back to her. “What are you hiding?”

  “Nothing. I don’t want to draw attention to Jancie. A simple courtesy to her for a few weeks until she’s accepted the connection she made with her mother,” he snapped out his prepared answer. “Do we have any other matters to discuss?” Rowe huffed, removed his fedora, and stepped toward the doorway.

  She commanded his gaze for a moment more, then released him.

  He breathed a sigh of relief and strode into the council room. At the previous meeting, he’d been too worried about his reception by other members to look around. Originally built as a school, the floor planks showed a patina that often whispered with children’s laughter. The sturdy oak chairs arranged in two rows looked to be a variety of teachers’ desk chairs. Ornate carving decorated the leader’s chair at the front. Not a part of the school’s furnishings. The walls held black and white photographs of early progress made in the coven. In no hurry to talk to the two members present, he sauntered around the perimeter noticing the predominance of limestone—Salem limestone according to Vika. He took a seat behind an old biddy and straightened his tie and suit coat.

  Gladys spun around, pursed her lips, and peered at him above the rim of her bent, wire-framed eyeglasses which teetered near the end of her pointy nose. Her gray bun pulled at her hairline. Rowe suspected the tautness strained her brain. “I see you’re still with us for a second meeting,” she said with a sneer. “Grizela Tabard’s spirit must be fighting to get out of her cement likeness. Another McCoy to deal with.”

  Rowe nodded his head with a grin. “I intend to do my best to uphold my family’s tradition.”

  “Hmpf.” She turned around and whispered to the other older lady beside her who looked just as upright in a starched shirtwaist dress. Rowe didn’t count either as an ally.

  When Clarence Douglas and Art Kerry and his son Kyle stepped through the door, Rowe waved them to him.

  The faces of the three men lit up. Between them, they owned one-quarter of the coven’s property and half of its wealth. Progressive men, the older two had been contemporaries of Rowe’s parents. They pushed the limits of adherence to archaic methods, upholding tradition when needed to maintain witchcraft, not livelihood.

  Clarence’s dark eyes gleamed from under a thick shock of gray hair. “Glad to see we didn’t scare you off.” He slapped Rowe’s knee as he took a seat.

  Art folded his tall but still trim frame into the chair on Rowe’s other side, while Kyle stood behind. Art leaned in and said, “Clarence and I are game for what we discussed after the last meeting. Sound ideas about modernizing the workplace, son.”

  Rowe shook hands with them and twisted to extend a hand to Kyle, a tall, strong young man in his early twenties. He was a valuable influence on the council, since most positions were for life, being handed down. Without heirs, coven members could run for the vacant seat. Which was how Kyle gained his early position upon the death of Rowe’s mother.

  When another member passed, Nathan Wells had gained a spot. He was a studious and determined man of about the same age as Kyle. Nathan seemed focused on upholding the truth at all cost.

  Rowe’s council seat, although inherited, required approval of the high priestess. More than a year had passed since the vacancy was left by his father. Rowe regretted his neglect, but grief had taken the forefront during that time.

  Oscar Burnhard, a portly middle-aged man, squeezed through the doorway and lumbered to the opposite end of the room. The floorboards creaked under his heft, crying for mercy. With a groan, he lowered himself onto the widest of the motley chairs. He wiped his jowls with a handkerchief, then nodded to the others. A staunch fundamentalist, he uniformly supported Adara and the Tabards before her. Clarence and Art had joked with some degree of hope that another new member might be coming soon, the way Oscar courted a heart attack.

  The members stood while Adara made her expected grand entrance, sashaying into the meeting room.

  Kyle waved at Nathan, who entered after Adara. The two stood at chairs beside Clarence.

  Art whispered to Rowe, “Kyle tries to get Nathan to swing our votes. Works sometimes.”

  Adara’s midnight satin dress emphasized every wiggle as she stepped onto the raised dais at the front of the room. Once seated, she arranged her dress so the side slit showed a long line of thigh. “Thank you all for coming. Please, be seated.” She nodded to Viola, the woman next to Gladys. “Will you be recording notes?”

  “Yes.” Viola readjusted her seat and opened a notebook.

  “Then, I’ll call this meeting of the Coon Hollow Coven Council to order.” With a monotonous tone, Adara rolled through a list of recent rule violations. Routine discussions among the council followed, and restitutions were established.

  Adara peered up from the page she held. “It seems now that we have a new council member, we’ve also had an influx of appeals to change the approved list. Mr. MacElroy wants permission to upgrade his automatic milking machines. Mrs. Gaddie, who runs the school cafeteria has requested microwave ovens. Mr. Candish would like the use of battery-operated drills for use in his cabinetry shop.”

  Art stood. His height alone was imposing, and he spoke in a firm voice. “I believe wholeheartedly the use of modern conveniences in the workplace, the source of one’s income, should be permitted.”

  Gladys spun her head around as well as Rowe’s owl Busby. “And how exactly do you intend to regulate that? Mrs. Gaddie would likely take one of those new ovens home, and we’d not be the wiser.”

  Nathan dug in a scuffed briefcase and withdrew a bound document.

  “After adjustment to the rule is made known, there needs to be some trust.” Kyle replied.

  “It is stated in our doctrine that coven members are assumed to be good.” Nathan held up the well-thumbed covenant. “Those who fail to follow the rule will face consequences and serve as role models for others to do better.”

  After other council members shared opinions, Adara called for a vote through show of hands. “Those in favor.” She clenched her teeth as Nathan’s hand went up. “Those in opposition.” She uncrossed her legs and planted her feet on the floor. Gripping both armrests of her throne chair, Rowe thought she looked like an angry sphinx. “The amendment has passed with a vote of five in favor and three opposed.” The words hissed from her lips as though unpleasant to her sensitive palate. “Viola, please see to it that this change is made known as well as limitations for use of such modernization outside the workplace.”

  Rowe enjoyed watching her tortured facial expressions, like a caged animal tr
ying to hide its distress. Change threatened her power. He caught her gaze, and she squirmed in her seat.

  Then, without looking away, a change came across her face, a slight curling of the corners of her crimson lips. “Now that we’ve reached the end of the planned business, I have a new matter to bring before council.” She worked to dampen her grin. “There has been a misuse of magic that needs to be dealt with.”

  Rowe’s face grew hot, and he worried about what maliciousness she was up to.

  “One of our own council, Rowe McCoy, has made inappropriate use of witchcraft.”

  The others faced him with varying expressions. His allies appeared annoyed with Adara’s apparent pettiness, while her supporters wore smug grins.

  Adara rose and stood tall on the elevated platform, looking down at them. “Following his wife’s death, Rowe McCoy was made official bearer of the griever’s moonstone. He was appointed to wear the enchanted moonstone until he connected with another soul under the same duress who could command the locket to open. His own burden would then be lightened by the encounter with that person. This much has happened to Rowe McCoy. The enchanted gem should now be dormant and placed in safekeeping here in our vaults until another coven member faces such a loss and becomes the new bearer.” She stepped off the dais and slipped between Gladys and an empty chair to where Rowe sat.

  Nathan pulled a thick volume from his briefcase and flipped through pages.

  Adara waved a hand toward Rowe’s chest. “Yet he still wears the moonstone. Except this is not the moonstone of binding magic. It is a fake. He’s hiding the fact that the original is worn by the woman who was able to open the locket. It must be returned to the coven’s vaults.”

  “Who is this woman in possession of the moonstone?” Oscar asked.

  “Her name is Jancie,” Adara spat.

  Rowe stood. “Jancie Sadler, daughter of Dwayne Sadler.”

  The older members gasped and looked from Rowe to Adara but said nothing.

  Children’s laughter from the old school encircled the room, invading the silence.

  Clarence leaned over to Kyle and Nathan, his whispers audible above the fading giggles. “Dwayne was Adara’s lover who, with her along, accidentally drove into and killed Adara’s brother and oldest sister. The tragedy caused the middle daughter to go mad and created a rift between Grizela and Adara.”

  Adara returned to the platform and scanned each face. “The moonstone must be returned. It belongs to the coven.”

  “Regardless of any personal connection in this, she’s right.” Oscar looked across the room. “The task of the enchantment is complete. The gem belongs here.”

  “Absolutely.” Gladys nodded her head like a bobble-head doll.

  “Yes, I agree,” Viola added with a mousy voice.

  Clarence and Art looked at Rowe, who shook his head but remained silent.

  Nathan planted a fingertip in the middle of a page. “Here it lists the griever’s moonstone directives. The magical interaction proceeds just like Adara described. ‘Once the recipient has been in contact with the deceased loved one, the moonstone bearer will, in time, have his or her burden likewise lifted. While that period is variable, the gem shall remain in possession of the witch bearer for the duration. When the witch’s needs are satisfied, the gem will be stored in a coven stronghold until the next griever from our population is identified.” He faced Rowe.

  “Is that all it says?” Rowe asked. “Anything in the amendments?”

  Nathan scanned the page with his finger and turned to the newer section. “Yes, that’s all.” He looked back to Rowe. “Adara is speaking the truth. It must be returned.”

  Sweat trickled down the nape of Rowe’s neck. Jancie was a witch with both New Wish and Coon Hollow blood. The moonstone wouldn’t come off of Jancie’s neck because it had more work for her to do, tasks not listed in the covenant or its amendments. Perhaps not written for a reason. His gut knotted and told him to keep quiet.

  “Let’s put this to a vote.” Adara glided to the edge of the dais. “All in favor of Rowe returning the moonstone, raise your hand.” All council members except Rowe held up hands. “By unanimous vote, Rowe McCoy, you must return the griever’s moonstone to this coven office before the next full moon or be subject to consequences of losing your position on this council and your community job in the schools.”

  Rowe clenched a fist, blue light dripping from his fingertips.

  Adara smirked. “Expect to pay the costs, and Jancie will be brought to this council and forced to give up the gem.”

  Rowe stood. “I am prepared to leave the coven with Jancie to protect her.”

  “Leave if you wish. But know that, in such an event, there will be a greater price to be paid.” Adara’s haughty laugh trailed after him, even through the closed door of the building, as if the bespelled trees carried her cryptic warning into the evening darkness.

  ***

  Rowe dropped into his car frustrated and confused. More than anything, he worried about how best to protect Jancie. Adara’s words of warning rang in his ears. He started the car and drove with no destination, turning down one road then the next while his mind wandered.

  After a few miles, recognition of Keir’s red brick Victorian house broke his delirium. The lights were on, and he turned into the drive. At the door, Rowe struck the knocker and leaned against a porch post, his balance affected by his confusion.

  The door opened, and the seer’s coyote nosed through the crack before his master appeared. “Waapake, calm down. It’s just Rowe.” Keir bent and steadied his familiar while glancing up at Rowe. “I expected you. I heard the trees singing a threatening song. That’s why Waapake is upset. Come in.” Keir stepped aside.

  Rowe made his way past the small parlor where Keir received customers seeking his sage advice. In the large, front parlor, Rowe sank into the soft leather couch. He glanced at the windows hung with dream catchers. “I think you’ll need to close the drapes. We have things to discuss that must remain secret from any wandering familiars or transformed witches.”

  “Waapake, bring bones,” Keir said to his coyote as he pulled the dark green drapes shut.

  He turned away from the last window and met his familiar sitting with the large leather pouch in his mouth. “Thank you.” Keir accepted and rubbed the coyote’s tan ear and sat in a carved ladder-back chair near Rowe. “You’ve come from the second council meeting. By your energy, I sense it didn’t go as well as the first.” He leaned close, looking Rowe in the eye.

  “Much worse.” Rowe rested his head back and looked up at the ceiling. “There’s no end to Adara’s evil. She’s made it nearly impossible for me to protect Jancie. She worked my council allies against me to demand retrieving the moonstone from Jancie and returning it to safe keeping in the gathering hall’s safe.”

  Keir gave a wry grin and shook his head. “Let me guess. Nathan provided supporting verbiage in the original covenant.”

  “Right you are.” Rowe rubbed his eyes. “Did you use your awe-inspiring talents as a Shawnee wise man or just plain-inherited-Coon-Hollow-seer abilities to see that?”

  His friend chuckled. “Neither. I grew up babysitting Nathan.”

  “Can’t say I count him among my friends after tonight.” Rowe tipped his head forward and met Keir’s gaze. “Adara was all too eager to use his findings. Art and his son Kyle and Clarence couldn’t refute the written rules. I have three days to return the moonstone locket.”

  “By the day of the full moon.” Keir patted his coyote’s raised head. “Why can’t Jancie take it off? You said Vika was with Jancie today. Did they learn something?”

  Rowe nodded. “A lot. So much I don’t know where to begin to protect Jancie now. Vika found a New Wish spell on the moonstone overlaying our magic. It seems there’s more Jancie needs to accomplish before it will let go. In addition, Jancie is a New Wish witch strongly aligned with the south wind.”

  Keir’s thick, black brows shot up. “We now kn
ow the players from my vision—the north and south winds.”

  Rowe nodded and rubbed a hand across his jaw.

  “What’s your penalty if you don’t return the moonstone?”

  “I lose my council position and my teaching job. Worse yet, Jancie will be brought in and dealt with.”

  Keir groaned.

  Rowe leaned forward, elbows balanced on his knees. “It gets worse. When I threatened I’d leave Coon Hollow with Jancie to protect her, Adara countered there’d be a higher price for that action. She set the words of her threat with a spell that echoed through the woods.”

  “I heard it and read their language. That’s why I expected you.”

  Rowe locked his gaze on his friend. “What’s the price? Did you hear? Or was the spell just some evil trick of hers?”

  “I heard fragments, but Waapake is better at nature’s language.” Keir shook the pouch, and the bones and stones inside rattled.

  The coyote sat up, long ears pricked forward, golden eyes following the shaking pouch.

  Keir smoothed the rising fur along his familiar’s back. “Use these to show us what you heard.” The seer bent low and emptied the bag’s contents onto the hand-loomed tribal rug.

  For the next few minutes, Waapake’s silver muzzle pushed pieces in different directions, while Rowe and Keir leaned close, watching in silence.

  The coyote nudged two long bones until they lay parallel, then barked at Rowe.

  Rowe moved closer and knelt beside Waapake.

  “All right,” Keir joined them. “Waapake, let me know if my interpretation is incorrect.” He pointed to two parallel bones that lay inside a small circle of round bones and smooth stones. “These must represent Rowe and Jancie.” He passed an open palm over the pile and then over another of more angular pieces. “These represent the two covens. New Wish being smaller, but the magic is time-worn and older. Coon Hollow is newer with sharper edges, not yet honed smooth.” He glanced at the coyote, who remained calm, and continued. “Rowe and Jancie, while together within New Wish, are separated.”