Neala and Jancie, with Vika hovering at their elbows, worked to prepare herbs for a medicinal tea.
Rachelle placed dinner plates on the table filled with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy, which seemed to get the others to come to the table.
“Smells and looks right good.” Vika sampled a forkful. “Mmm. Your chicken melts in my mouth. My compliments to the cooks.”
“That would mostly be Starla.” Rachelle added the last table items and sat down. “We just assisted.”
“Mighty fine work on the gravy, Rachelle.” Neala winked at her. “Rowe, try this.” She set a cup of amber liquid beside him. “It’s a tea that helps relieve headaches and strengthen mental clarity.”
“Thank you.” He took a sip and wrinkled his nose. “As bad as that tastes, it has to work.” He ate a few bites of food and laid his fork down. “I’m going to lie down for a while. Save my dinner, please.” He stood and moved to the sitting room where Jancie arranged pillows to make him comfortable on the couch.
She leaned over a side table. “I set your tea here. Try to get that down.” Back at the dining table, Jancie stared at her plate. “I know once I’m able to make my wish, this will be over. But what if I can’t easily find my element to grant that wish? I feel like I should go out tonight to look for it. Can anyone guide me to blue natural elements here to speed things up?”
Neala shook her head. “I’m sorry, Jancie. I understand both your pain and Rowe’s. No one can help you find your element. That’s part of why it works. This is about you connecting to your powers. You must seek that element. When you find it, you will also discover your powers.”
Jancie poked at her food, slowly managing to eat her chicken thigh. She gulped water, her frustration burning hot in her face. A lively conversation went on around her, but she was in her own world. She feared going out on her own, but her love for Rowe was stronger than her fears. With resolve, she looked up with a new idea. “Neala, is there a map of the valley that might help me get prepared to search come dawn? May I use a map in this ritual?”
“I don’t see why not. I have a simple copy of a hand drawn one I’ll get for you after dinner.”
Rachelle tilted her head and looked at Jancie. “Since I’m not a witch, would it be okay for me to go with her on her search? Just for moral support?”
Neala twisted her mouth to one side. “That’s a request I’ve not run into before. Let me think on it and maybe get in touch with Eartha.”
Jancie sat straighter and grinned at her friend. It would be great if Rachelle could go with her, just to keep her calm. A little more hopeful with that idea and the use of a map, Jancie ate the rest of her meal, then joined Rowe while the others had dessert.
His tea cup was empty, and he slept fitfully. By the tightness around his eyes, she knew he still suffered.
She covered him with a crocheted afghan. Rubbing her hands along her upper arms, she stepped to the fireplace constructed of the familiar limestone but far less impressive than Eartha’s. She noticed wood already laid and called over her shoulder into the kitchen, “Neala, may I light a fire?”
“Yes, please do. The evenings are chilly now.” The chieftainess poked her head around the corner. “Be sure to open the flue. Matches are on the mantel.”
Jancie bent low and yanked the metal lever to open the chimney.
As soon as she did, a whoosh sounded with air rushing down and into the room.
Jancie stepped back, staring at a loosely formed vaporous ball of blue light hanging in the air in front of her. “Neala, come quick! Something came down the chimney.”
The light moved around Jancie while she stood stone still, arms clutched across her chest.
Everyone rushed into the sitting room. “Hazel! I’m glad you’re here,” the chieftainess cried out. “Your son is in a bad way.” She motioned to Rowe. “Can you do anything to help him?”
Rowe’s eyes opened, and he sat up, disoriented and rubbing his head as he looked at the light. “Mother?”
Jancie found her voice. “It’s an old Tabard curse, punishing any griever’s moonstone bearer from Coon Hollow for loving a New Wish witch. It makes the bearer go mad. He’s in extreme pain. Please help.”
The blue light zipped to Rowe and moved along him from head to toe, clinging to his body until it encased his entire form.
Shaking, Jancie grabbed Vika’s arm. “What’s happening?”
The blue light dissipated, not into the air, but inside Rowe, through his nose, mouth, eyes, and exposed skin.
He lay back, motionless, but the muscles of his face relaxed.
“She’s doing what any mother would, trying to save her son.” Vika patted Jancie’s hand and whispered. “As his mother, she can enter his body. I’m no seer, but I’m thinkin’ her spirit might be able to heal injuries like Rowe did for me. That was one of her talents when she lived.”
“Fascinating magic.” Neala joined them as they stared at the sight. “Nothing we do here.”
A thin film of pale blue covered his body, while Rowe exhaled puffs of light that were reabsorbed by his skin.
Jancie took a step toward him. “Vika, can I touch him? I need to know he’s okay.” Her whole body trembled.
“Hold up.” Vika moved behind her. “I want to be with you in case Hazel rejects you. She don’t know your touch. Better yet, let’s do it together. She knows me well.” The old woman placed her hand over Jancie’s and guided it to Rowe’s resting on his chest.
Jancie gasped and read every small sensation. Hazel’s spirit surrounded their joined hands, coursing along Jancie’s skin. Every hair and fold was touched. After at least a minute, Jancie was able to sense Rowe’s body, calm and at ease. No pain tormented him, but his emotions were still and unchanging, as if suspended. His chest rose and sank slower than in sleep. “It’s like she slowed down his body functions.”
“Yes, that’s right. Hazel spoke directly to me. It was all she knew to do to keep the damage at bay.” Vika wrapped her free arm around Jancie. “She’s bought you the time you needed.”
Happy tears ran down Jancie’s face as they moved away from Rowe’s sleeping form.
Chapter Twenty-six: The Wish
Jancie awoke the next morning before her phone alarm sounded and rolled out of the trundle bed onto the rug careful not to wake Starla in the connected bed. She and Rachelle, being younger, chose to sleep in the drawer beds pulled out from where Vika and Starla slept in the two twins. The floorboards of the old cabin creaked as Jancie padded through the hallway, with clothes and toiletries in hand she’d laid out the night before.
She brushed her teeth, washed her face in the vintage pedestal sink, and fixed her hair in a quick ponytail. In the mirror, her hazel eyes were dull, with dark circles around them.
Like she’d told Rachelle, shouldering both the new responsibilities of being an adult and a witch was daunting. The weight was hers alone to bear. Before bed, Neala had determined Rachelle couldn’t accompany Jancie on the quest to find her element. Although not surprised, she was disappointed and slept fitfully in anticipation.
With a sigh, she changed from her nightgown into jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt.
Downstairs, Jancie tiptoed to where Rowe slept on the couch. The soft blue light his mother still surrounded him with her loving protection. Jancie bent close, careful not to touch him and disturb Hazel’s magic. “Rowe, if you can hear me, know that I love you. I’ll find a way to break the moonstone’s curse.” She glanced at the blue vapors swirling between his fingers. “And Hazel, I don’t know if you can hear, but thank you so much for keeping him safe.”
A creak sounded on the stairwell landing as Neala descended, wrapped in a red terry robe. “I thought I heard someone up.” She grinned at Jancie. “Do you need anything?”
“Thanks, but I prepared my lunch last night.” Jancie moved through the kitchen toward the back door.
“You have my phone number in case of an emergency, right?” Neala asked.
Jancie nodded and wedged the lunch, her wallet, and local map to the backpack she’d left on a half log bench inside the back door. She peered out into the darkness. No hint of light was visible but songs of twittering birds meant dawn would come soon. Thankful Cerise had told them to bring hiking boots, Jancie tugged hers on and zipped into a cozy fleece hoodie that matched the light amber color of her hair.
She set off into the dark morning toward the lights of the main street. She hoped by the time she left the electric lights, the sun would help her see, but that was not the case, even past seven o’clock. She made good use of the flashlight since the steep hills with the dense tree cover delayed sunrise.
She followed the main road out of town, its smooth macadam riddled with cracks from last winter’s freezes and top-dressed with loose gravel. Broken stone crunched under her boot’s thick soles. The still morning air held smells of wood fires close to the ground. Jancie passed a cluster of cabins, partially draped in flood lighting from nearby sheds. Her nose twitched with the distinct fragrances of the various fires. A tangy, sweet smell of pine hissed and sparked out of one chimney top. Mellow, rich odor of oak logs smoldered from another. The pleasant baked ham smell of a hickory fire made her mouth water. And the sweet syrupy smell of sugar maple logs made her empty stomach rumble. She smiled, remembering how her mother had taught her to how to smell the differences.
Warm, yellow lights shined in a few cabin windows. Residents of New Wish were up and starting their days. Animals also stirred. Songbirds darted from limb to limb, their colors hidden in shadows. A raucous medley of cawing gave away the identities of blue jays among a stand of pines.
When daylight peeked over the hillside, Jancie turned off the main road, following her instinct as she searched for her blue element. She examined the softening midnight sky, wondering whether that was the blue she sought. Nothing caught her attention, so she followed a twisting lane, expecting to see a blue river or at least a creek. She consulted her map, and it confirmed her guess. But brush grew so dense that she couldn’t find a way to cut through. At the loud bray of a horse, she walked on.
In a clearing, stood a red barn where a huge chestnut horse whinnied at its open stall door. A man in overalls and a red flannel shirt scurried from around a corner. Harness in hand, he led the anxious animal to the front of an old-fashioned plow.
Jancie surveyed the small truck farm with rows of market produce. An undulating row of trees marked the field’s far border. Certain the line bordered moving water, she followed the dirt driveway to barn.
The farmer tipped his cap, and his bushy gray brows wiggled. “Hello. Name’s Samuel. What can I do for you this morning?”
“I’m Jancie.” She pointed behind the barn, unsure how to explain her purpose for being on his property. “I’m looking to find my witch element. May I cross your property to reach that stream?”
His head bobbed up and down. “Be welcome here, Jancie. You’re right on track.” He secured the horse and motioned for Jancie to follow him toward the back of the clearing. He pointed to a weeping willow whose limbs swayed in the breeze like a Hawaiian dancer’s grass skirt. “To the left of that trunk is a path to Nutter’s Creek.” With a smile, he lifted his cap again. “May you reach your destiny.”
She thanked him and continued as he’d directed. Pushing the curtain of willow limbs aside, the rushing stream came into view. The current twisted over and around rocky outcroppings. The swift water, more white than blue, didn’t trigger Jancie’s intuition.
She consulted her map, looking for wider streams that might have deep, blue pools. If I follow Nutter’s Creek south, it flows into a larger stream. A narrow but passable trail followed along the bank where she stood. Seems like a plan.
Weaving in and out with the meandering creek, Jancie picked her way across roots and washed out sections. She made slow progress through tangled forest broken by an occasional cabin in a small clearing or wider open areas of truck farms like Samuel’s.
Before she reached the intersecting stream, hunger got the best of her. She took a seat on a wide sycamore root that had thrust itself into the water. The exposed root was covered by a tough, papery bark that mimicked mottled, peeling layers of the three-foot wide trunk. Her phone searched for service without any luck, but thankfully she’d worn a watch. Noon! How can it be that late? She finished half of the sandwich, saving the rest for later, and washed it down with a quick swallow of tea.
Keeping her eyes on the ground, Jancie stepped up her pace. She paused to look around and had the junction in sight. She sprinted for it. Where Nutter’s Stream widened to join the other, she tripped on an exposed root. She caught herself from falling into the water by a tenuous handhold on a thin branch. Less than a pencil’s diameter, it threatened to break. Although the creek wasn’t deep, the water was cold. Unable to grab anything else or jump across to the opposite bank, she inched her fingers up the thin branch while working one foot back up the bank.
The limb bent lower under the stress.
What witchcraft might help me? Surely something. Jancie reached her free hand across her body toward the jeans pocket containing the peppermint leaves. Her twisting motion strained the branch. It creaked with the sound of plant fibers tearing. One foot slipped off of the muddy bank. Before she could touch the mint, an unseen force yanked on her extended wrist and pulled her onto the bank.
Jancie turned to see a woman who looked to be in her late thirties beat her hands on her thighs, guffawing.
Jancie moved closer, her hands shaking, breath shallow. “Thank you for saving me from falling in.”
The woman eyed her but didn’t speak. A streak of white cut through her coal black hair that straggled uneven below her shoulders. She dressed in homespun olive green fabric, not so much a dress as a frayed shroud cinched at her waist with a leather thong. Her black eyes flashed sparks of blue.
Jancie’s pulse quickened, and she took a few steps nearer, eager to study the woman’s eyes. “Thank you for your help,” Jancie repeated in case the woman hadn’t heard before.
The woman backed away, her eyes wild with piercing blue glints. She held up her palms. “Stay there, South Wind. I know you. My visions tell me.” The woman side-stepped, as if preparing to run away.
“It’s okay. I mean no harm. I’m Jancie. Thank you for helping me at the stream. What’s your name?” Jancie needed to see the blue of those eyes. She searched for questions to keep the frightened woman from running away.
“My given name’s Fia, but call me Death Teller because that’s what I do.” Her gaze darted in all directions. “No one wants what I can see. Too late to stop the reaper’s hand from reaching their loved ones but enough to torture their own souls for eternity. Like mine is.” She hugged herself, while looking up in all directions and dodging things Jancie couldn’t see. “Hundreds of deaths, people screaming behind my eyes. Until my eyes bleed. Blue with the blood of their dying veins.” Her eyes focused on Jancie. “Go back. Do not invite me to see death around you.”
Realization shot through Jancie like electricity. This is Fia Tabard—Adara’s mad sister. Deserted and cast away Can this be? What force has brought me to her? Jancie stared at the desperate, lonely creature before her, and her heart ached at the thought of the woman’s fate. “I still want to thank you. You did something nice for me. You didn’t hurt me.” She stepped closer, determined to view those flashing blue streaks in the woman’s eyes.
When Jancie reached Fia, the woman crouched and curled into a ball, head tucked against her knees. “Don’t come any closer.”
Jancie extended a hand and smoothed Fia’s tangled hair. She was drawn to this woman.
Long shadows of trees fell over them, and the air grew cooler. Jancie panicked. How can it be evening already? She flinched. Dread, suspicion, and fear shot through her. Was this a trap of Adara’s, using her sister? Jancie sensed the strength of Fia’s powers. She could kill me if she wanted. Heat poured into her face, and sweat
trickled from her hairline.
She let out a slow breath, trusting her instincts.
Fia slowly raised her head, still clutching her knees with white-knuckled hands.
Jancie’s gaze lingered in the witch’s blue eyes. She placed a hand over Fia’s, feeling the roughness of her skin.
A single blue tear rolled down the woman’s cheek, and she let go of her knee. Her fingers trembled as they embraced Jancie’s. “You know death already.” Fia’s raspy voice choked out the words, and she stared, unblinking, into Jancie’s eyes. “Your mother. You do not fear death. Your heart’s brave and true. But are you brave enough to be the Death Teller’s friend, I hope?” Her body shook with her hoarse speech. She cast her gaze down. “I have no friends. Not one. Ever. No family now. All have left me. Jancie, will you be my friend to share tonight’s full moon?”
Jancie clasped Fia’s hand into both of her own. “I will be your friend during this moon and many more.”
Fia’s body relaxed. She grinned and laughed in fits and starts.
Jancie’s spirit soared witnessing Fia’s transformation.
“Look there!” Fia sprang to her feet. “The moon, she rises above my trees and finds us.”
Without thinking, Jancie embraced the ragged, lonely witch.
First with one hand, then the other, Fia returned the hug while the pair watched the full moon rise higher.
“A super moon, bigger and stronger than others. Big enough to bring me a friend.” Fia hugged tighter and bounced on her toes, her smiling face lifted to the sky. She glanced at Jancie. “And for you, you know your destiny as a witch is to break a curse that plagues your people, yet the road to get there eludes you. May our friendship under this moon help you as well.”
In the tiny clearing, the moon’s brilliant glow shone like a spotlight on them.
“This is the time of fullness, the flood tide of power, when the Lady in full circle of brightness, she rides across the sky above us.” Fia’s eyes were bright and smiling. “This is the time of the bearing of fruits, of change realized. The Great Mother is pouring out her love and her gifts upon us in abundance.”
Coon Hollow Coven Tales 1-3 Page 28
