Coon Hollow Coven Tales 1-3

by Marsha A. Moore

  The sergeant deferred to the patrol, who replied, “Plump body, graying dark hair falling from a bun, and a narrow-shaped head with small eyes set close to her long nose.”

  Thayne winced. The description sounded like the sibyl witch who’d eyed him at the market. This could be bad. He zipped to the door, passed a hand over the lock, and entered. Debris cluttered the floor, kitchen table, and counters. Most of the contents of Grammy Flora’s bookshelves lay in ruin. Yet furniture and the altar remained untouched. Hot bile roiled from his stomach and collided into a tempest upon meeting vapors of his magic’s thick frost.

  “Dear Goddess Mother,” Shade hissed.

  “All the magical items were destroyed.” Thayne raised an open palm and briefly closed his eyes. “There’s a soul present.” He hurried through the littered hearth room to the main bedroom. The sight on the bed, the blue-gray cat with its spine broken, made Thayne draw a hand to his mouth. He bent and touched the soft fur but found no pulse. The cat’s soul cried in torment, wafting through the air amid vibrations from Crimson’s ring. Following a trail of fae magic, he located the ring, unharmed, in an open dresser drawer. He smiled and touched the aragonite to a garnet in one of his own rings.

  “Strange she didn’t destroy the ring.” Shade wiped a tear from his eye.

  “I know that witch. She’s strong, clearly.” Thayne motioned to all the broken glass and mirrors littering the floor. “Able to recognize traces of fae magic, but not strong enough to touch Crimson’s ring.” He lifted the connected rings high, where the cat’s soul struggled. “Be free.”

  The captain examined a postcard from the bed. “Sibeal Soot?”

  “Yes. A coven sibyl.”

  “Seems she’s running for Coven Council and stood up for by Oscar Burnhard.”

  Thayne’s sorrow transformed into white-hot rage as he methodically replaced his sister’s ring in case Esmeralda had need for it.

  “He’s the one Cobweb and me saw killing Eugenia, when Miss Esmeralda brought winter down.” Shade touched a hand to his pork pie hat, a gesture of respect to the dead cat.

  Fern frost stiffening his neck, Thayne faced his captain. “I want you to take me to where you saw the body buried. The high priest can’t find it. We must. Direct Sergeant Bracken to utilize Gale and gather patrols, already outside the Grand Ravine, to stand guard around the rim.”

  Shade saluted and they traveled back to the forest edge.

  Bracken accepted his orders without question although his bushy brows pushed together.

  “Someone placed a spell upon our homeland.” Thayne took a deep breath and measured his words. The officer needed some explanation to perform his duty though not enough to induce panic. “We were able to leave, but Gale couldn’t enter. Everyone inside was safe when we left. We’re going to Eugenia’s property. We’ll return as soon as possible to break, or counter, the confining charm.”

  The sergeant touched a tentative hand to his cap, his lips quivering. “My King, travel safely.” The frightened look on the sergeant’s face underlined Thayne’s own feelings—he was expected to put the smallest concerns of court first, regardless of right and moral actions which involved outsiders. The fire in the pit of his stomach belied what he’d stated. In truth, he didn’t know the degree of danger his court faced.

  The group disbanded and set off on their respective routes. Gusts of frigid winter air pushed them along the trail. The gray sky dropped snow ahead on the path to the murder site, as if prompting Thayne and Shade onward. Thayne gulped cold air to quell the fire spewing from his stomach.

  He took a huge risk, not only with the court’s safety, but with his own position as ruler. If harm, however slight, came as a result of his negligence, he could be dethroned. Without an heir, Grayson stood as second in line.

  Even knowing this, Thayne couldn’t reverse his decision. Something illogical and intuitive pulled him to do what was right to save Esmeralda. Even though she seemed genuinely afraid and reluctant to deny her witch powers and accept the fae part of her. He couldn’t blame her, faced with odds she might become aligned with the Autumn Court. What sort of life would that be? There was no guarantee or shred of hope she would ever be his. Yet that didn’t matter. He had to serve what was right in his heart.

  They passed an intersection and a tinkling voice called after them, “My King, Cap’n Shade, may I be of service?”

  They slowed enough for the whir of Cobweb’s white gossamer hair to catch up.

  “Glad to have you with us, Captain Cobweb,” Thayne said. “We’re en route to Eugenia’s.”

  “Oh?” Uncharacteristic hesitation shook through the diminutive officer’s voice. “I was returning from patrol in the eastern woods when I ran into Sergeant Bracken, and he told me where you were headed, and I’d be glad to show you a short cut.”

  “Please do,” Thayne replied. “We don’t have much time.”

  She sped forward and took a half-hidden path. Her way proved difficult to navigate with close brush and a stream crossing, but did avoid a length of turns on the main trail. The three stepped from the woods and across the short distance to disturbed ground behind Eugenia’s shed.

  “From what I know, the body was here once, though not now.” Thayne stooped with palms outspread over the frozen soil. “I feel several threads of witch magic, but can’t determine one from another. Can either of you detect anything?”

  Shade bent his lanky frame low, while the other captain floated her hair wide, spinning a delicate web across the area.

  “Plenty of unnatural elements, blood and sweat included,” Shade reported. “No body and no hints of where it went to.”

  Cobweb gripped handfuls of turned dirt as the other two moved away. “I’m not reading anything either, so step back to the trail and let me try something else.” She groaned as her hair lengthened and extended in every direction, reaching far along sides of the shed and into the forest.

  Some strands shook, whether from her or from the distant connection, Thayne didn’t know. He stepped carefully between lines of the web and followed those vibrating the most. One web quieted at its point of attachment to a vacated groundhog burrow. Another trembled increasingly as it entered the woods, encouraging him until he discovered its terminus on a half-broken branch swaying in the sharp wind. One more web shook as visibly, and he followed it toward the side of the shed.

  Voices, coming from inside the distant house and also from near the shed, reached Thayne. He donned a glamour of invisibility and continued around the corner. There, the web attached to a rusted tractor mower deck half-embedded in the ground next to the building’s foundation. While the discarded machinery remained motionless, Thayne’s fae sense couldn’t mistake the desperate cry of a bound soul calling from underneath. Like the pained plea from the spirit of Esmeralda’s cat, this spirit sang with piteous wails that jerked Cobweb’s filament.

  Thayne signaled Shade to go invisible and join him. Together they pried up the crumbling metal and placed it to the side. They found freshly disturbed ground, although the discarded deck appeared long-neglected. The rueful song now clambered over his ears, beseeching him for freedom. His gaze fixed to the spot, Thayne said to Shade, “I think we found the body.”

  “Let me get Cobweb.”

  Careful not to disturb evidence, Thayne held a palm over the grave until the soul vibrated against his hand. Then he yanked upward, and exhumed a bloodless head with sunken eyes and matted gray hair still partly twined in a braid like Eugenia always wore. He withdrew his magic and the skull fell against the earth.

  Cobweb rounded the corner, her hair still extended and streaming behind her like a train. She wrinkled her pug nose. “Ugh, nasty business with mortal graves, but at least we found Eugenia and might prove the murder somehow, though the mower deck’s been sitting here for well over fifteen years.”

  “Shh. Voices. Coming from the house. Cobweb, glamour,” Thayne ordered in a hushed tone, then crept to the building’s front corner.
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  Two tall men, coven witches in old-fashioned double-breasted suits, strolled toward the shed. One Thayne recognized from placards and newspapers around Bentbone as the new Coon Hollow Coven high priest Logan Dennehy. The other, a stranger.

  Seconds mattered. He waited a few pounding beats of his heart to gauge their interaction, which seemed easy and casual. While his hearing was acute, no fae ability would help Thayne with evaluating this situation. He had to go with his gut and assume the other man was Rowe, who Esmeralda had said helped with the investigation. Thayne signaled Shade to make a bird call.

  The captain called loud and clear with the baleful cry of a mourning dove who’d lost its life-long mate.

  The violated soul wailed a harmonious melody.

  As intended, the birdsong drew the men to the partially exposed body.

  Sounding winded, Logan exclaimed, “We’ve found her.”

  The other man grimaced and then placed his hand over his mouth.

  Logan sighed, pulled out his portable phone and took pictures. “Poor Eugenia. Right under our noses. How did we miss her?”

  His dark-haired companion replied, “Evidently camouflaged by plenty of spells. There are footprints all around the body—useful evidence against Burnhard. But who exposed this? Are we in danger?” His brow knitted, and he scanned directly through Thayne’s invisible shape toward the woods.

  “You’re right.” Logan looked up. “This could be a trap and not real evidence at all. It’s too easy.”

  How could these mortals allow some ridiculous doubt to invalidate their finding? Thayne made a difficult choice to break one of his father’s cardinal rules—never expose your true identity to a mortal, other than a wildwood healer. He took a step back and dropped his glamour. “I uncovered the grave. It is not a trap, but the murdered remains of Eugenia Trustwell.” He bowed to the pair. “I am King Thayne of the Winter Fae Court.”

  The men jumped back and stared, shoulder to shoulder, their mouths gaping. At last, the dark-haired one stammered, “Did…did Esme ask you for help? She works with The Cousins. Um…I’m Rowe McCoy, and this is Logan Dennehy, high priest.”

  “She didn’t ask.” Thayne met Rowe’s gaze squarely, prepared to accept whatever negative consequences might come of exposing himself. “Justice needs to be upheld so she stays safe. She deserves to live without threats from a murderer. Her home was ransacked today, which she will learn upon returning home from the market. Please be there to reassure her that she will be safe now. I have duties in my court.” The last sentence stung Thayne’s lips.

  Logan gave a nod. “I certainly will. Thank you for coming forward. It is my honor. Is there any way we can contact you about this case in the future if we have a need?”

  “Enter the woods between Holly Cabin and Alice’s home and call my name. You will be answered.” Thayne stepped forward. “There is one thing I must do for Eugenia’s soul before anyone else touches her body.” He rested a garnet setting in one of his rings onto the pallid forehead of the corpse. As he floated his other hand into the air, he proclaimed, “Be free now.” The soul silenced as it took flight.

  “What did you do?” Rowe asked, eyes wide.

  “Freed her soul. It was trapped by murderous death. And further weighed down by knowledge that Burnhard paid the sheriff hush money to hide a gambling ring he rigged with black magic.”

  “Incredible.” Rowe scanned from air to garnet to the deceased remains. “We cannot do that. Not even those of us who are empowered.”

  Thayne nodded, feeling a reply unwarranted and too difficult. The potentially dangerous situation at his court kept him quiet.

  Logan dialed and said into his phone, “This is High Priest Logan Dennehy in Coon Hollow. I need to have the State Police witness and gather evidence for a murder in which our local sheriff may be implicated.”

  Thayne gave a slight bow and walked into the forest. His pulse quickened inside his wings, prompting him onward. He didn’t have time to analyze the possible consequences of his actions. His court needed him without delay.

  Once Cobweb and Shade were at his side, silent and shooting him blank stares, they took off into a run toward the Winter Court.

  As they passed Holly Cabin, Thayne wished he could spare Esmeralda the pain of seeing her home torn apart and worse yet, her beloved cat dead. He ached to be present when she arrived, to at least lessen the horrific experience for her. Time wasn’t on his side. He had to trust Rowe and Logan would comfort her with positive news. Thayne tripled his fastest speed, never before having the urgency until Esmeralda needed him. With luck, I can get back to her home before she returns from the market…if I can quickly solve the dilemma faced by my court. I can do this. I’ve got to. For her.

  Chapter Twenty: The King’s Ring

  At the Grand Ravine’s rim, Thayne and the two captains stopped where Sergeant Bracken stood watch with at least two dozen guards.

  Before the sergeant had time to exchange salutes, Thayne asked, “Has anyone been able to penetrate the shielding spell and enter?”

  “No, my King. Many have tried and failed,” Bracken reported.

  Shade asked the officer, “What parameters of the spell have you tested?”

  “It stops passage of sound,” Thayne replied.

  “Yes, but not vision, least from this side.” Bracken pointed to the far rim. “Over there is a vantage point to see into part of the gathering area. The few faeries up and about seem to be carrying on normally. Our attempts to draw their attention failed, so I suspect their view is shielded. Additionally, weather patterns seem different. The worst of a snow squall is somehow getting trapped in the upper portion of the ravine, almost like additional screening. A strong faery must’ve set this, or a collective group.”

  Thayne and Shade tested the demarcation with their hands, while Cobweb attached filaments of her hair.

  “It’s elemental, filled with tiny quartz particles that took on energy of last night’s first quarter moon,” Shade said.

  “Rutilated or tourmalated?” Thayne asked.

  “Tourmalated, definitely. The tourmaline needles are filled with astral power.” Shade dug through his jacket pockets and pulled out several crystals. “I only have rutilated. No use against this unless someone’s got the other quartz.”

  Thayne scanned those assembled. “Is anyone in possession of a tourmalated quartz?”

  After a period of checking clothing and packs, the guards returned empty stares to Thayne.

  He eyed the large garnet on his index finger, the king’s ring, which had belonged to the Winter Court king through many centuries. “Add your support after I begin,” he directed Shade and pressed the gem against the confinement. From the point of contact, cracks materialized and radiated a foot along the transparent surface.

  The captain connected his clear stone, flecked with rutilated inclusions, to the cracking circle. The diameter doubled, but the wall held.

  Focusing his breath and mind, Thayne pushed his power into the garnet. His finger bearing the ring became translucent and frost crystals tumbled down his arm. Where they dropped from his elbow, dried leaves that caught the residue shattered upon impact with the intense cold.

  The circle’s diameter expanded, inch by inch.

  Thayne set his jaw and leaned into the constraint. Surfacing his power, frost barbed the skin along his spine. Cracks widened and splintered a few feet. He shoved more strength into the garnet. Spikes of frost spread down his legs, piercing dense muscles of his thighs and calves with intense pain. He groaned and panted, sweat freezing along his brow.

  In one final attempt, he mustered any remaining might and thrust his all into the king’s ring. A guttural howl of pain rushed from his lips. The sound echoed along the length of the magical internment. Sharp snaps deepened into rattling bursts. A network of spidering fractures crackled across the obstruction. The magical barricade crumbled. So did Thayne.

  Shade caught him as he collapsed. “My King? Are you all r
ight?”

  “Let me help.” Cobweb rushed to them and wrapped tendrils of her white hair around Thayne.

  Through half-closed lids, he saw glowing strands remove the excesses of frost from his body and halt further damage.

  Within moments, the out-of-control icy power in his extremities returned to normal functioning levels. He put weight into his legs, testing his abilities, while Cobweb expelled his dangerous frost our through her hair into the air. Thayne called, his voice shaking, “Let’s descend and check thoroughly for any wrongdoing.”

  “Can you get yourself down?” Shade asked Thayne, as the guards waited.

  Thayne shifted away from the captain’s support but kept a firm handhold on his shoulder. Weakness shivered through his lower back and thighs. “Not completely.”

  With the captain’s wings partially unfolded and his arm around Thayne’s waist, the pair slowly traversed the decline to the healers’ cave.

  The sergeant organized inspection of the court.

  On more level terrain, Thayne steadied himself and hobbled the few feet to where Halcyon conferred, back turned, with two of her staff. When the subordinates’ faces lit and broke their conversation, he touched the director’s arm. “If I may have a cane and a word.”

  “Oh, my! Yes, of course. Karina, please get the king a cane.” Halcyon motioned to a storage nook, then faced him. Lines marred her smooth forehead, and her almond eyes zipped up and down his body. “What has happened to my king? How may I help?”

  “I broke a tenacious confinement spell surrounding the Ravine. I’m just a little spent, that’s all.”

  She escorted him to a cot and with a gentle but insistent hand, guided him to sit.

  Shade leaned against a nearby supply cart.

  “I’m fine,” Thayne protested as the healer rolled up his pant leg to reveal blue craze lines crisscrossing beneath his skin. He gave a quick glance at the damaged vessels, then focused on the healer. With responsibilities to both court and Esmeralda, he couldn’t afford to fully acknowledge the severity of his injuries.