Coon Hollow Coven Tales 1-3

by Marsha A. Moore

  To my surprise, the gem reacted with blooms of violet flower inclusions against the facets closest to me.

  I laughed. “I’m glad you’re up for the challenge. Will I defeat the banshee?”

  The blossoms wilted and the pendulum gradually began a forward and back oscillation.

  My fingertips holding the chain went numb and my mind blank to all except dread. I bit my lip and roused myself to go on. “Will I win the fight?”

  The crystal hesitated for a long moment, then gyrated into a ragged oval.

  Logan let out a muffled groan and shifted in his seat.

  A line of perspiration formed along my upper lip, and I blinked repeatedly to stay focused. “Will I break the curse?”

  The gem bobbed up and down on its chain, pulling hard against my fingers, as if it didn’t want to answer.

  I reinforced my grip and restated the query.

  Like a wild animal being forced into a cage, the radical movements zigged and zagged along a sloppy circular path.

  “I can’t think of more questions.” I clamped my eyes shut and passed the pendulum to Logan.

  A moment later, I sensed his heat near my face. I flickered my eyes open in time to receive a gentle butterfly kiss on the cheek that trailed to my lips. Like the gossamer flutter of wings.

  “We’ve learned enough.” He murmured into my mouth with a deep, silky-smooth voice. “Whatever happens, I’ll be with you.”

  Unable to comprehend the pendulum’s readings, I pushed it aside and welcomed Logan’s sweet sexiness. I ached for release from the stress pushing in on me and opened my lips to initiate a passionate kiss. I thrust my tongue inside his mouth.

  He pulled my body around, his arms warm along the sides of my back.

  I broke the kiss and gasped for air. The need to breathe seemed only a frustrating interruption, and once accomplished, I pulled him tighter.

  I leaned closer, but he found my hand. “Let’s get more comfortable on the parlor sofa.”

  Snuggled close as we sat against the soft cushions, Logan lifted one of my curls, allowing it to spiral around his finger. “I like your hair curled.” Point scored for the time I’d spent earlier with a curling iron.

  “It almost matches yours.” I fondled a golden ringlet that twirled into the shell of his ear and let my lips follow the delicate folds of skin to the lobe.

  His strong hands roamed over my hips and pulled me hard against him. His mouth covered mine for a deep, probing kiss. My body ached to be closer, to shut out the world and the problems pressing upon us. His heat spread along my skin, a protective cocoon. I nestled closer, and his musky scent with undertones of citrus cologne wove into our covering.

  Moonlight fell across our tangled bodies. It kissed the bared skin of Logan’s chiseled forearms and my cleavage where the V-neck sweater stretched low. The moon joined our passion, guiding our hands to explore soft curves and firm muscles.

  But when the light shone into my face, my eyes flicked open with sudden recollection of the coming full moon. Problems crashed back on me. My consecration tomorrow night could bring me face to face with the banshee whom I would not defeat.

  Chapter Twenty-three: The Consecration

  I lit a single candle and placed it on my bedroom chest. I had to prepare meticulously for my consecration. I’d selected my outfit and laid out supplies for this special night days in advance.

  My fingers pulled dark stockings up my legs and slipped over my head one of Shireen’s new creations, a winter ceremony dress. Fluid black challis cut on the bias swung out at both the elbow-length sleeves and the full, flared skirt with cascades of asymmetrical hem points. I tied the laces on new black leather ankle boots.

  I secured the front of my hair at my crown with a black velvet ribbon. Around my neck, I fastened a silver pentacle necklace that once belonged to Gran. The final touch came from my mother’s love and skill––my personal essential oil blend. Crisp notes of peppermint and rosemary filled my nose with a rush of alertness. Spicy secondary scents of cinnamon, clove, and coriander wafted in a teasing dance, rousing my sun power to tingle at hairs along my arms. I dabbed the heady essence where my energy burned hottest: inner wrists; temples; base of my throat; and nape of my neck. I hoped tonight I’d live up to all that Gran and Mom had taught me.

  When fully dressed, I picked up my wand and sat on the dresser’s tufted bench. My gaze fixed on the candle flame, a single-pointed connection to my element of nature, the source of my power. Only with that focus could I best consecrate my wand tonight, align it with the magic in my soul.

  Sensations of my sun energy moved from the flame to me, through my mind, heart, and soul to my hand holding the carefully prepared branch from Nannan.

  The wand’s three end twigs glistened gold, which activated Gran’s amber, attached to the longest tip. Inside, a glow sparked that matched the candle’s delicate flame. A blue-violet center bathed the embedded firefly, coating the myriad filaments and veins of its tiny wings. A red-orange heart surrounded the insect, flowing in the direction of the candle across the room. Radiating out farther, a brilliant yellow licked the amber’s internal surface as if trying to escape and reach its mate feet away. Golden light beamed from the amber to kiss the candle, making its flame rise higher and flicker wildly. The circle of energy hummed through me: blood vessels pumped a rapid pulse, nerve filaments sizzled with electricity, muscle fibers constricted, and tendons poised tight. My body, mind, and soul unified with my element. “Hail, Tana, Goddess of Fire!” I said aloud. The strength of my voice resonated in my chest and caused the flames of both candle and amber to dance, long after the sounds of the words faded.

  Voices outside broke my meditation. I rose and moved to the chest. With moistened fingertips, I extinguished the candle and whispered a short closure verse. I checked my beryl bracelet. Its dim glow assured me the guests were expected and no threat.

  Wand in hand, I slipped downstairs and caught a glimpse of Fenton perched on the top of an upright piano. “It’s your big night, lass,” he said and hopped to the floor.

  I paused. How did he know about the ceremony? My friends’ footsteps thudded on the porch. I hadn’t seen Fenton since two nights ago, before I received a vision of him and Maggie passing figurines through her mirror. I had so many questions to ask him but no time now.

  “Go on to your pals. Just know I’ll be there for you tonight.”

  A knock sounded.

  “How?” I asked over my shoulder as I moved into the foyer. “You wouldn’t be safe. The banshee is out there.”

  “Aye, but I’m not so safe even here o’ late. The beastie’s gonna have me one way or another.” He tipped his fedora. “I’ll be seeing your rite. Count on that, lassie.”

  My breath caught and I gasped, “No! Don’t put yourself in danger. Or me. You might draw the banshee to the event.”

  “Probably safest for you iffen I get that meeting over with. Been a long time coming.”

  Another knock prompted me to take hold of the door handle. I glared at Fenton, as if I could will him to stay home in his hatbox tonight.

  He waved me to answer, then with a sad smile his form faded. Why would he risk his soul just to see my consecration?

  I opened the door the same moment Logan gave it a push from outside. Our faces almost touched at the door’s edge. “Are you okay, Aggie? You didn’t answer. You look worried.” He touched my arm.

  “I just saw Fenton. He intends to be at the ceremony. I tried to talk him out of it.”

  The rest of the group entered behind Logan: Kier and his familiar Waapake, Rowe and his familiar Busby, Vika and her familiar Siddie, and Jancie.

  Hoping they might have answers, I asked, “Do you all have any ideas? I can’t understand why he’d take that risk being away from the protection Maggie put on this house.”

  “Fenton’s a wild card.” Rowe shrugged.

  Vika clutched my hand as she entered, and her bobcat rubbed against my legs. “I hope you do
n’t mind me an’ Siddie joinin’ in. I love to help in circle castin’. Siddie’s always a good girl, isn’t that right?” She looked down at her familiar.

  “Oh, you’re both always welcome. I’m glad you came. Vika, you look lovely.” I waved to the rest. “And all of you, thanks for coming.” I was flattered they’d all dressed formally for the occasion.

  “Fenton! I need to talk to you.” A streak of all black—suit, shirt, and fedora—Logan strode through the lower floor, fists clenched and yelling, “You coward! Your presence at the consecration could lure the banshee. You’re putting Aggie in serious danger. What are you thinking? Come out here, now!” When his boots pounded back to the parlor where the others gathered, his irises resembled inky storm clouds.

  Keir rubbed a hand down beaded strands to clasp his smoky quartz talisman. “Fenton has a long-standing relationship with that demon, on a plane we can’t fully understand.”

  Surrounded by my friends, the pungent smell of sage and bay tickled my nose. In the wide lapels of their double-breasted coats, the men wore boutonnieres of a single thistle for instilling strength, along with sprigs of sage and bay to bring wisdom. Vika wore a matching small bouquet on a black satin ribbon at her neck, and a braided crown of the herbs held Jancie’s long red hair in place.

  “You’d think if Fenton wanted to harm Aggie, he could’ve done so already.” Jancie placed a matching herbal crown on my head. “Vika and I made these for the ceremony.”

  “Thank you.” I looked between the women, honored by their gift. “They’re so pretty.”

  Rowe straightened from where he leaned against the back of a wing chair. He wore black leather wristlets that served as perches for Busby and added a gangster flare to his black, pin-striped suit. A dark cloak hung over one shoulder, and gold watch chain swung across his right leg. He smoothed the bird’s ruffled neck feathers. “I agree about Fenton, but something has Busby on the alert.”

  Vika shivered and pulled her black shawl around her neck. Wild, white spikes of hair poked through the open crochet. She’d dressed in a full-length black sheath gathered loosely into a scooped neckline. Silver earrings dangled to her shoulders, meeting numerous silver necklaces that held protective and strengthening crystals. Although her gnarled fingers were free of decoration, bracelets clattered at her wrists. Times before, I’d only seen her wear one or two crystal necklaces and no other jewelry.

  I knelt and stroked Waapake’s fur as he licked my other hand and wrist, bearing the beryl bracelet. His energy soothed my nerves. “He doesn’t seem upset.”

  “You wear his mother’s amulet.” Keir bent and patted his familiar’s shoulder. “He trusts in that as we all should.” Leather moccasins decorated with rich beading and fringed cuffs covered the seer’s feet. At the coven party, he’d worn the customary fedora, but tonight he was bare-headed, his cropped black hair painted with a red triangle pointing toward his crown. A necklace bearing a silver phoenix swung out from his chest.

  Those symbols piqued my curiosity. “Are you guided by fire, too?”

  His black eyes gleamed. “Yes, but not in the same ways. It seemed wise to call upon my element in your support tonight.”

  “Well, I trust Waapake. That’s one darned good familiar,” Vika proclaimed.

  “Let’s get this party started.” Jancie linked her arm in Rowe’s and took a step toward the foyer.

  Possibly from the heat of Logan’s rage, cherubic golden curls had tightened and poked into his ears as if to block the steam inside. He motioned us toward the door.

  I swung a full-length black velvet cloak over my shoulders, tucked my wand into my bag, and joined the others.

  Dressed in ceremonial clothes and loaded with supplies, our group made slow progress along the forest trail. The full moon barely skimmed the tree-line. Many oaks that didn’t shed their leaves until spring lined the first leg, and we struggled in the pitch black. Vika leaned heavily on a walking staff to negotiate the treacherous terrain. Thankfully for Vika and all of us, as before, Nannan directed tree roots to lower as we approached.

  The woods lay quieter than when I’d visited two nights ago. My heart beat louder than usual. Ahead, the stream’s waters trickled, and I used the calming sounds to steady myself.

  At the bank, moonbeams sliced through openings in the tree cover. The rays glanced off the water and lit wisps of rising fog into an ethereal silver mist that wafted around our feet. The stream gurgled louder, twisting and dancing high onto rocks as if tempting the full hunter’s moon into a game of cat and mouse. Would the moon goddess play games with me during the ceremony?

  With improved lighting, we quickened our pace though the fog rose to our knees.

  “Good thing Nannan’s expectin’ us or we’d never make it before moonset,” Vika said between loud gulps for air.

  On the trail’s last curve, a cacophony lifted above the sound of rushing water. A clamor of animal sounds cluttered the air when I entered Nannan’s clearing: twittering songbirds, crying jays, chittering coons, and bleating calls I realized were forest deer. I touched Logan’s arm and whispered, “Look at the deer. Amazing!” A dozen, including six ten-or-more-point bucks, lifted muzzles and sang a squealing, off-key chorus.

  “That’d scare away any demon.” Jancie covered her ears and grimaced.

  Her idea seemed likely until surrounding trees clattered their twigs together. The air whipped with their motions, lifting my hair and stirring the fog above our heads. My hand, still on Logan’s arm, grabbed tight, and I surged sun power to my skin. The sudden breeze put me on banshee high alert. In the fracas, I searched for Fenton but couldn’t find him. A twinge of irritation flared my nostrils at the thought of him showing up and sabotaging my consecration.

  Siddie broke away from her mistress and rivaled the discordant sounds with her own big-cat snarls. Waapake craned his neck and howled, more melodic than the rest. Busby hooted and flapped in circles until he gained enough lift to glide between limbs of the matriarch tree. Did these strange reactions show acceptance and bonding or some wicked enchantment?

  My pulse raced, and I dug in my bag for my wand. Both Gran’s amber and Coyote Mother’s beryl gave off only faint normal glows.

  Jancie lifted her face and open palms. “Strength of the south wind, I compel thee to stop this whirlwind.”

  Logan and Rowe scanned the air. Rowe’s pocket watch, now in his hand, dripped with blue energy, while Logan’s fists swelled with black storm vapors.

  Only Kier remained at ease, turning in place, eyes wide. As a seer connected to nature, his wonder quieted my apprehension.

  I felt a tug on one side of my cloak and looked down. Cyril the Raccoon King poked a twitching black nose through the dense mist. “Friends, no need to worry. Only greetings from folks here to help.” His voice resonated above the din, and the forest commotion calmed. After sniffing in the direction of each human, he said, “Please be welcome.” He chattered to himself as he waddled to the matriarch sycamore, now ablaze in moonlight.

  Her peeling bark caught the light and dripped glitter onto the forest floor. The smooth trunk beneath reflected silvery brilliance.

  I dashed to Nannan, my soulmate in nature. I embraced her with arms open wide, always trying to hug more of her. “You are the queen of the forest tonight.”

  Against my open palm, she replied, spelling, “And you are its princess.”

  Cyril’s wet nose against my calf interrupted our communication. “Time to begin.”

  Keir joined me at the trunk. “For this particular consecration, Logan and I agreed to form a circle to prevent unwanted energies from influencing our work. Have you cast a circle before?”

  “Yes, mostly for small purposes as practice, but I’ve assisted with many important celebration circles.”

  Keir gestured to the north.

  With a deep breath, I grounded my center toward that direction and paced three strides from Nannan’s trunk to begin the circle drawn around her. There I raised my arms
above my head. “By the earth that is her body, I call upon the Guardians of the Watchtowers of the North.” I lowered my arms and continued toward an eastern point the same distance from the matriarch tree.

  Aided by Jancie, Vika filled a bowl with salt, lit a white candle, and placed both at the northern spot I’d left. They followed my path, and Siddie dropped small fallen branches from the maternal sycamore to mark the circle’s perimeter.

  At the east, I invoked the Lords and Goddesses of Air, and the two women laid a bouquet of fresh mums, along with another lit candle. More branches were set to delineate the circle. We progressed to the south, invoking and leaving a burning red candle as a symbol of the fire of nature’s bright spirit. At the west, I paused a fourth time with raised arms and said, “I appeal to the waters of her living womb.” My helpers placed a chalice filled with water and the final burning candle. I stopped at the northwest and saluted the sky and earth. Only a passageway remained open and unmarked by limbs.

  Logan stood at the opening and admitted each member of our group into the circle.

  I walked to the north, spread the final branches to close the circle, and stepped inside. “As it is above.” I raised my arms, then brought them down to touch the ground. “So it is below. The circle is mine.” At my feet, a large, flat root protruded from Nannan. “This will serve as my altar.”

  Jancie stepped forward with a brass incense burner in the shape of a dragon, while Vika lit one end of the incense cake until it glowed, then blew out the flame. Busby flapped his wings across the cake until the red-orange tip smoldered. The younger woman set it on the altar and addressed me. “This fire incense we made for you.”

  Apart from the glowing tip, the smoke disappeared into the fog. But a perfume I knew well diffused through the dense air, a woodsy exotic blend of frankincense, sandalwood, and musk with grassy sweetness of saffron and earthy dragon’s blood. Intensified by the moisture in the air, the scent boosted my powers with renewed confidence.