Coon Hollow Coven Tales 1-3

by Marsha A. Moore

  I took a seat to one side of the group, leaned my head back, and shut my eyes to concentrate on absorbing as much sun as possible, while they whispered about what had happened.

  Connected to my source, I lost track of time, but perceived occasional exclamations from Cerise.

  After a while, they grew quiet. A firm hand pressed against my shoulder, and my haptics conveyed Logan’s strong sense of purpose to help. “Aggie, I’m going now. I’ll give Shireen a call and let her know how you are. Maybe learn more about her familiar.” The heat of his breath broke both my concentration on my element and my haptics. With tingles rushing along my arms, it was difficult enough to comprehend what he was saying. “I know how bad you want to move into your place tomorrow, but waiting a week will give you time to heal,” he said as his grip squeezed, then released.

  When comprehension hit, I spun around. “No way. I’m moving in, even if we don’t get the house all the way set up tomorrow.”

  He chuckled. “That’s what I like about you; you’re gutsy and determined. Not many girls would be eager to move into a house said to be haunted while they’re injured. And with an unknown witch, under the guise of someone else’s familiar, out to hurt them.”

  I looked at him through the corners of my eyes. “I just want my own place. That’s why I moved here. To be on my own.”

  He nodded. “I know. It’s a big step. It was important to me, too.” He patted my shoulder. “I’ll come by to check on you tomorrow.” He leaned closer, and vibrations shot from him that melted my skin. He whispered, “You know to call any time, day or night, if you need me.”

  “Aggie, the air’s cooling down for evening,” Cerise interrupted. “Let’s don’t stay out any longer.”

  I scooted to the edge of my chair and stood, confident that walking would be easier after my sun worshipping, as my kid brother called it.

  “I want to see you walk to the porch before I leave,” Logan said in a strong tone.

  I shook my head at him and wondered why he admired my independence yet always wanted to control me. And wondered why I liked both things about him. I gave up analyzing the enigma and started my twenty-yard journey. A pronounced limp gave way to a slight hobble by the time I reached the steps.

  At my shoulder the entire distance, Logan now offered me his arm, while Cerise held the door open.

  I ascended the first two steps without pain but also without grace, which didn’t bother me at all. When I shifted weight onto my injured leg to rise onto the last step, my strength wavered. I was glad to lean against him. “Thanks.” With a smile, I stepped inside. “It’s getting better.”

  During dinner, I picked at my food. Intermittent stabs of pain through my leg combined with churning heat in my stomach made the usual savory odors a bit nauseating.

  Cerise fretted over me. “I don’t want to have to wake you during the night to get moonlight. You need your sleep.” She lay her fork down and looked squarely at her husband. “Toby, I know what we can do. The moon is tracking in a more southern course through the sky now. If we move Aggie’s bed under her room’s south window, she can sleep and get the moonlight she needs.”

  He nodded absently to her, and she looked my way before he could respond.

  “How does that sound to you, Aggie?”

  “Seems like it’ll work,” I replied.

  “Great. We’ll do that as soon as we finish eating.” She grinned while she chewed.

  Toby chuckled. “By we, I think you mean me?”

  “Well…yes. All the same thing.” Cerise tended to the needs of her youngest son, cutting his meat into small bites.

  After dinner, the boys were freed to play, while, under his wife’s supervision, Toby pushed my bed across the attic floor. Exhausted after a stressful day, I was glad to see my bed no matter where it stood.

  Too tired to redo my bandages, I washed best I could with a sponge bath.

  Cerise called through the bathroom door. “Just bringing you some wintergreen tea to help you heal. I’ll leave it on the nightstand. If you need anything during the night, let me know.”

  “Thanks,” I called back. I was grateful both for the tea and some quiet time to sort out what had happened. I slipped under the quilts, lifted the cup, and inhaled the refreshing steam. As I sipped the minty tea, stress dropped from my body along with a headful of worries and a dull headache. I slipped into a dreamless sleep.

  ***

  Early the next afternoon, I sank into the passenger seat of Cerise’s car.

  Even after both her car and Toby’s were loaded with my stuff, groceries, linens, and household supplies, she continued to urge me to stay another week at their house. “If you change your mind and don’t want to deal with the awkwardness of a new place with your injury, you’re welcome back here. Just call, and one of us will come get you.”

  I glanced over and met her gaze. “Thank you. Really. It means a lot. But I came to Coon Hollow to be on my own. I’m healing. My leg’s better today. I want to keep to my plans.”

  She tapped her neatly manicured fingers on the steering wheel and turned out of the driveway.

  “I’m glad to have everyone’s help today,” I said to break the silence, but also because I meant it. As much as I wanted to be on my own, I’d miss the fun with her kids.

  Toby and the three boys drove ahead of us.

  “Will it be okay for me to come over for a meal once in a while?” I asked.

  Cerise patted my arm and grinned. “You know you’re welcome any time. I’ll miss you if you don’t stop by.”

  At the homestead, the boys tumbled out and raced around the front yard grabbing sticks and pretending to use them as wands and swords interchangeably.

  I scanned the side lawn where the burning barrel stood. “No sign of that strange black smoke trail.”

  “Good. I’m glad for that.” Cerise smiled in the warm sunshine. “Boys, come here and help carry things inside.”

  Each one picked up a small item, a bucket, mop, or sack. I suspected they’d not make it back to the car for a second load, but was happy to have them along. They filled the air with their laughter which might cast off whatever dark magic seemed to hover around this old house or me or both.

  “Which bedroom are you calling yours?” Toby asked, staggering up to the second floor with my two large suitcases.

  “The lavender one at the top of the stairs,” I called after him.

  Cerise and I unloaded, sorted, and stored kitchen and laundry supplies. She filled the sink with soapy water and added a stack of plates we’d left on the counter after cleaning cabinets on Friday. “I’ll wash. You dry.”

  I selected a dishtowel I’d just put away and started to work. While small chips marred some edges and rims, the set was real English china with a lustrous glaze.

  “This china was brought over from Ireland. Lovely, isn’t it?” She held up a dinner plate to let the water run off. “I’d use it but would live in fear of my little ones breaking pieces.”

  “Yes, really pretty.” I gingerly accepted the plate from her hand. “I’ll be careful with it.”

  When Cerise finished washing, she took a load of sheets and towels upstairs. “I’ll be making up your bed. Holler if you need anything.”

  I dried the last items and arranged them in the cabinets.

  Toby stuck his head in the back door. “Hey, Aggie. I put a battery in that old Nash in the barn and got it running. Wanna go for a quick spin in your car?”

  A smile lifted my cheeks. “I sure do. I’ll be right there. Let me tell Cerise.” At the foot of the stairs, I called up to her. I waited only long enough to hear her cheery response and headed to the barn, wanting to run but limited to a quick-step pace.

  The green Nash sedan sat outside the double barn doors, chugging and sputtering. Dustin and Harry sat in the back, while little Bud took a spot in the middle of the front bench seat.

  Toby opened the passenger door for me.

  I bounced and clapped my h
ands together and hugged him, while he grinned, still holding the door.

  When we were all seated and buckled, Toby rubbed dust off the steering wheel. “She’s still needing some work to make her run smooth, but I thought you’d want to give her a try today.”

  “I love it! I can’t wait to learn how to drive,” I squeaked. “When can we have my first lesson?”

  “Me too!” Harry slipped out of his seatbelt and hung over the back of the front seat. “I wanna learn.”

  “Me too, Dad!” Dustin chimed in.

  Toby glanced at his sons through the rearview mirror and chuckled. “Sure thing, in about five or six years.” He nodded to me. “Aggie, how about next weekend? Give your leg a while to heal so you can use a clutch easier.”

  “Yes. That’s great,” I replied.

  He eased the car through the double gravel tracks leading from barn to driveway and then pulled onto the road. He sped up, and the car lurched as he shifted gears.

  I rolled down my window to let the air blow through my hair. I couldn’t believe it was my car. I felt like I was flying.

  We drove a lopsided square circuit along meandering country roads. With his elbow resting on the open window frame, Toby waved to coven members who were in their front yards.

  Even though I didn’t know them, I waved too. I filled my lungs with big gulps of crisp autumn air and smiled. In this vintage car, I was one of them and not the new girl from New Wish.

  As we pulled onto the driveway, pride swelled my heart at the sight of my new home.

  Cerise walked from the front door and gave a whole arm wave, a wide smile covering her face. She met us at the barn. “I’ll bet that was fun.”

  My head bobbed. “It was!” I looked to her husband as he came round the front of the car and draped an arm over his wife’s shoulder. “Thanks, Toby. And thank you, Cerise, for everything.”

  She took a hold of my hand. “That car sounded pretty good.”

  “Yeah, with a little more work, it’ll run smooth as silk,” Toby said. “And driving lessons begin next weekend.”

  “Wonderful.” Cerise squeezed my hand, and I beamed. “Everything inside is done, except for putting your personal things away, which I know you want to do,” she said and blinked back moisture forming in her eyes. “I’ll be here at eight tomorrow morning to give you a ride to the dress shop. If that hex starts acting up and you need help tonight, call me.”

  I nodded. “I will.”

  She looked at the ground and dabbed a finger to the corner of one eye. “This moment is hard. I’m excited for you, but don’t want to leave you. It was so nice having you as part of our family.”

  Toby slipped his hand in the crook of his wife’s elbow and pulled her toward their cars. “Time to go before you two start crying. She’ll only be a ten-minute drive away.”

  She resisted and pulled me into a tight hug.

  “I’ll be fine. Really.” I took a small step back.

  With a nod and sniffle, Cerise trailed behind Toby and her sons.

  I followed to the front yard and waved from my porch as they drove away.

  In the quiet, I looked around, trying to decide what to do with my first evening alone. I considered soaking up some sun, but the late afternoon rays slanted, forming long blue shadows from the dense woods behind the barn.

  I walked a short distance to the hill dividing my home from the haunted cabin attraction. A few steps up the sharp incline made my leg throb, so I rounded the hill on level ground near the road. Even though it was only five-thirty by my watch, half a dozen old coven cars were parked on the far lawn that served as a parking lot. Logan’s car wasn’t among them. Public hours didn’t start until seven, and ended early at eleven on a Sunday night. Maybe he’d come by before time to open. I wanted to show him my new place and new car. I sighed and turned around.

  Inside, my kitchen smelled clean and fresh. My stomach growled, and I rummaged through the Frigidaire to see what groceries Cerise had left. She’d had me make a list, but knowing her, there’d be plenty of good surprises.

  I opened a foil wrapper and discovered at least half of a fried chicken. I smiled and placed a few pieces in the oven to heat while I rummaged through home-canned goods. One jar, neatly labeled pickle-lily in Cerise’s handwriting, made my mouth water. I broke the seal and ate a forkful straight from the jar. With a bowlful of that salad and my chicken, I sat down to my first meal in my own place. Crisp, sagey chicken never tasted so good.

  I cleaned up, enjoying the view from the sink window. A purple haze of sunset sifted through the trees. I headed upstairs to spend the rest of my evening unpacking.

  Car noises and voices floated across the lawn through the open upstairs windows. At the end of the hall, I peered through a small window at the carriage house. From this height, the roof was in full view above the hill as well as a portion of the parking lot. More cars had parked, but a gathering mist prevented me from counting how many or locating Logan’s. Fog seemed more common here in the hill country than in New Wish’s cliff-lined valleys. Night breezes, with the cold of coming winter, rushed in and battled sun-warmed afternoon air.

  The weather reminded me of the struggle happening inside me, as energy from sun and moonlight fought the hex. With a shiver, I shut the bathroom window and then did the same in my bedroom.

  I set to work unpacking toiletries into the bathroom and my clothes into dresser drawers. I found no hangers in the closet and searched the pink bedroom and child’s room without luck. I poked my head into one of the two closed-off bedrooms across the hall. The ceiling light didn’t work. Not wanting to trip and bring on more pain, I twisted and picked my way through the dim room littered with a maze of large items—wooden trunks, mounds of discarded drapes, and lamps—set among piles of indistinguishable clutter. The house spirits likely watched my clumsy invasion of their space. My eyes darted back and forth checking dark corners. At the closet, I found no hangers and took a breath before navigating the gauntlet back out.

  In the hall, with my back to the heavy oak door, I leaned my weight onto my good leg. The beat of my heart reverberated through the wood. Sweat trickled down the nape of my neck, and I touched a hand to my burning forehead. My sun energy was fighting hard again.

  I glanced at the last bedroom, gave up the pursuit of hangers, and returned to my own room. Lamplight lifted the lavender hues from wallpaper and drapes to cast a welcoming glow. I hung clothes over the back of a wooden side chair. When I moved to set a few books and Vika’s notes on the nightstand, pain spiraled around my injured leg.

  I needed to stop and take care of myself. I hadn’t found time to restore my sun energy during the day. When healthy, which I usually was, my powers replenished almost naturally since I loved being outdoors.

  The fireplace along one wall wasn’t laid with wood, or that would’ve served my purpose. I made a mental note to gather kindling and ask Toby for firewood. I stooped over the nightstand. I’d seen candles and matches in a drawer. Years ago, when I was sick with strep throat and burning with fever, Mother lit candles around my room to help me to replenish my internal fire. I placed tapers in a pair of brass finger-ring holders and lit the wicks.

  I stared at one flame for several minutes, allowing its energy to seep into my body. The light illuminated Vika’s list, which reminded me to make some wintergreen tea. Taking one candle, I went to the kitchen and brewed a large mugful. On my way back up, a sliver of moon had slipped into view through the parlor windows. In my room, the other candle flame had infused the room with a trace of its mother sun. I breathed deeply, filling myself with badly-needed power. I sat on a comfortable window seat cushion to make use of whatever the rising moon could give me. My hands held the fragrant tea under my nose as I read Vika’s page by candlelight.

  The period of a waxing moon is the time for spells dealing with new beginnings of every kind, a time to draw things to you in your personal life as well as in business and finance. This period is especially favorable
in matters concerning growth, protection, healing, advancement, abundance, and to increase knowledge, spirituality, and fertility. It is the best time to plant seeds and new plants.

  This sounded good since I’d come to Coon Hollow looking for new beginnings and personal growth and knowledge.

  I fixed my gaze on the moon rising above the carriage house roof next door. When I felt a connection to its energy, I read Vika’s meditation.

  The waning moon, that curves to the right, is the power of beginning, of growth and generation. She is wild and untamed, like new ideas and plans before they are tempered by reality. She is the blank page, the unplowed earth. Feel your own hidden possibilities and latent potentials. See her as a silver-haired girl running free through the forest under the slim moon. Call her by name, “Nimue,” and feel her power within you.

  “Nimue,” I said softly to the moon, and, in response, it seemed to glow more yellow. “Nimue!” I called with a clear voice.

  Against its brightening light, an actress, Dulcie or her stand-in, appeared on the carriage house roof. With one arm clinging to the chimney, she tilted her head back and gave a wild banshee howl. The evening’s show had started, and Logan had not visited me like he’d promised. Had he run into some problem? I imagined a host of dilemmas, but not knowing him well enough, they were all just guesses. I closed my eyes, basked in moonlight, and sipped the minty tea. Its relaxation soothed both fever and pain.

  A thud hit the house somewhere under my window. I jumped from the window seat, tea splashing on my shirt. I peered outside but saw nothing except the front porch’s metal roof. Another deep bang sounded. I hobbled as fast as I could down the stairs, wondering what on earth had smacked against my house. I switched on the porch lights. My fingers trembled as I moved the parlor curtain aside.

  Outside, the porch was empty and in order, except for the dying back and forth motion of a rocking chair. I peered into the darkness. A light shone across the road from Mr. Murdock’s. Black silhouettes of tall trees looming in the moonlight didn’t give away any secrets.