Coon Hollow Coven Tales 1-3

by Marsha A. Moore

  With a spine-chilling scream, his raised hand slashed downward at her.

  Esme rolled to one side, her overcharged arm clamped to her side.

  The king missed her. His sharp nails lodged in the frozen ground.

  Taking advantage, she hurled more blasts at his screeching mouth until he slumped down, silent.

  Esme’s body convulsed. She rolled to one side and vomited a purple gunk, then grimaced at its vile acid odor. She lay against the earth, doing little more than breathing, wanting to die.

  A rustling made her open her eyes. From Raclaw’s wounds, her purple wayward energy bled out and wafted back to the talisman—only two feet from him, farther from her.

  Fearful he’d regain consciousness, she gritted her teeth and willed her body to crawl to the talisman.

  With the black amber secure in her hand, she crept on hands and knees to the flat rocks her father gave her. She set the talisman on one and hoisted the other high. With a jag of purple air erupting from her mouth, she smashed the gemstone.

  It shattered into dozens of shards. Purple flames spewed from it into the sky. The haunting mist cleared from her vision.

  Sparks landed on Raclaw’s injured face and woke him with a start. He gave a guttural groan. “No. It’s gone. No.” He dragged himself back into the forest.

  The mass that had been Esme’s father soaked into the ground, until only a wisp of purple smoke remained and whisked away.

  Silence and stillness blanketed her. She lay down for many minutes, welcoming the quiet into her body. She listened and watched for any sign of Raclaw or his Autumn Court. Nothing moved. The battle had ended.

  She’d beaten the autumn king. On her own. Pride and triumph soothed her soul. Her shallow breath eased and passed freely in and out, a marvel of tranquility. The icy ground cooled her feverish cheek. Could I be a winter faery?

  Heartened, she sat up, pulled wobbly legs under her, and stood as if she were a newborn fawn. Upon rising, all of her senses ached with hypersensitivity, and a torrent of emotions pummeled her: anger shouting the loudest, followed closely by paranoia, dread, and confusion. These weren’t emotions of the winter fae. Hateful feelings like these belonged to the Autumn Court. She let out a remorseful moan. This can’t be happening. I’m not one of them; I beat the autumn king. Why didn’t I die and stay with Daddy?

  “Miss Esmeralda, you’re suffering.” A man’s voice called.

  She jerked the lantern upward. “Who’s there?”

  “Please let me help you.” The winter fae adviser who’d sat at the king’s table stepped from her back porch.

  “What do you want?” She eyed him warily, squinting against the intensity of his image.

  “Only to help. If you remember me, I’m Grayson, adviser to King Thayne. He sent me to deliver some medicine from Halcyon, our healer.” He sidled up to her and took her elbow, leading her toward the house. “Let’s go inside where you can be more comfortable and take this medication.”

  Unsteady, Esme allowed him to support her. When he touched her, a wave of uncontrollable tremors and nausea assaulted her. Sensing a vile energy about him, she yanked her arm free and pushed him away. The effort cost her. Her mind plunged into darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-two: Javelin of Ice

  Oblivious to the pain surging through his muscles, Thayne raced toward Holly Cabin, slowed only enough that Captain Shade was able to keep pace. Approaching the hedge, Thayne detected familiar sounds of Grayson’s footfall, the snuffle of his long nose, the click of teeth as he set his jaw. Accompanying these noises, Thayne’s stomach twisted as he read covetous intent, spiked with malice, exhilaration, and indemnification.

  Latching onto a shred of the advisor’s fear, Thayne swept through the closed door, arm raised and loaded with a javelin of ice.

  Gripping an amber glass bottle, Grayson leaned over Esmeralda. Her mouth agape, she lay motionless and pale on the floor amid the shambles of Sibeal’s raid.

  Thayne hurled the lance at the adviser’s hand holding the poison. Upon impact both hand and bottle sublimated into vapor, then whooshed up the chimney flue.

  Grayson let out a blood-curdling scream, blood dripping from his severed wrist. He cowered, slinking backward from Esmeralda’s body, as if the acquiescence might grant him a scrap of favor. “Bad news. The black amber’s gone. No vibrations anywhere. Sought it for you, my King. Don’t know what the wench did to it,” he muttered.

  Thayne ignored his rising surge of anger at the traitor’s insincere and late attempt at alliance. “What have you given her? How long has she been unconscious?” While holding a jag of ice fixed on the counsel’s heart, ready to snuff out the man’s life if need be, Thayne scanned Esmeralda. She appeared pale, like when she’d consumed the icicles, except that her cheeks and lips flushed vivid pink. Was the poison torturing her body? Thayne’s own heart ached to go to her, help her, comfort her.

  Grayson cowered, not offering a reply.

  Shade dropped to Esmeralda’s side, checking pulse and heart. “Miss Esmeralda? It’s Cap’n Shade. Can you hear me?”

  She didn’t respond.

  Yet, again, Thayne remained trapped in a decision between head and heart, court and love.

  He couldn’t expect Shade to control Grayson. When fully functional, his magic outmatched the captain’s. Without any heirs to the throne, the adviser possessed power greater than any in the court, save Thayne. There was no quick way to determine if the injury had diminished Grayson’s powers sufficiently.

  Fury crept with bitter fingers along Thayne’s already-damaged blood vessels. Pain cramped deep into his muscles. He couldn’t afford to waste time on Grayson now to determine nuances of his guilt.

  With an agonized yell, Thayne surfaced power into his king’s ring. The additional glacial energy further damaged his outer tissues with excruciating pain. His body could only endure seconds of this punishment. Only one shot. He confirmed his aim. A bolt of garnet light, translucent with strong polar haze, discharged. He wavered and slumped to the floor.

  The moonstone of Grayson’s court ring lost its flashy chatoyance and turned dull gray. An enormous quantity of the counsel’s magic vaporized. How much, Thayne wasn’t able to determine for wrestling with his own pain, but enough for Shade to take command.

  After a glance between them, Shade secured Grayson with gray shadow ropes, one tight at the elbow above the severed hand to stop bleeding.

  Thayne focused on maintaining consciousness. He had to help Esmeralda. He crawled beside her and took her limp hand into both of his. “Esmeralda, it’s Thayne. Please come back to me. Please.” He gave her cheek a gentle slap, then kissed her parted lips, not caring if the taste of the faery weed lingered upon them. The chance to put his love for her first was bliss, no matter the consequences.

  She remained motionless and silent. Not even the slightest song from her body could be heard.

  His tears fell onto her crimson cloak. The dark, wet spots matched the shade of his king’s garnet. The hue prompted him to use the gemstone. A great risk, but the only thing left to try. And energy he couldn’t afford to call up again. If a shred of her life remained, his wintry magic would jolt it back. If her fae blood was aligned with any court other than his own, horrendous injury would claim her last breath.

  His body weakened, he propped himself with his free arm and pressed the king’s garnet against her lips. The red of the stone deepened their flushed pink to a vivid crimson, as he filled the ring with power.

  Her mouth twitched. The slightest breath blew against his finger. She gave a soft moan.

  “Esmeralda, can you hear me? I love you,” he said, his voice quiet but urgent.

  Her eyes fluttered open, now the palest of blues rather than their usual cobalt. What change had come over her? She squinted, her face tortured as she croaked, “I chose fae…for you…and me. I love you…but—” A film of moisture glistened across her eyes. “I have autumn magic…fearful, annoyed, angry feelings…at all I see,
feel, hear...”

  Thayne lay on his side next to her, released a brief, mournful cry, and held her hand. Pulling her pain into him, he shuddered. It was all he could do to spare her some suffering as she passed.

  ***

  A ringing phone sounded in the back of Esme’s mind. She convulsed as it reverberated off the inside of her skull and ricocheted throughout her body. What kind of hell was this, where every normal noise rang like a fire alarm, every glint of light made her squint in agony, and every touch felt like sandpaper across her skin? Only her sense of smell seemed as before, uniquely able to detect emotions. Thayne smelled of fear and sadness, certain she was dying.

  She clung to life, barely, at least now…this minute. But she was dying. Her lungs breathed air that rushed in and swept out with deafening volume and grating pressure. She lay perfectly still. Even the motion of her lips to speak shot off an assault of sensations. She wanted to squeeze Thayne’s hand, but moving energy into her fingers caused a violent rush of blood through her arm. The best she could offer was meeting his gaze, in attempt to convey a sad smile with her look, which caused a scratchy feeling behind her eyes. Despite the torment, she appreciated these last moments to express what was in her heart.

  “Ma’am, this is Cap’n Shade. Your daughter is right here. I’ll let you talk to her.” Shade’s voice ebbed and flowed in oscillating vibrations as Esme worked to grasp his meaning.

  Shade passed the receiver to Thayne, and he held it to her ear as he lay beside her.

  “Rebecca, are you okay?” her mother implored, her voice urgent and quivering with so many frightened emotions Esme grew light-headed and nauseous.

  “Mom?” She flinched as the sound of her own voice rippled through her bones.

  “Yes, it’s me. Are you all right?”

  “I…I don’t know. I saw Daddy.” Esme paused, disconcerted by the odd vibrations coursing through her. She spoke more slowly, pronouncing one word at a time, one syllable at a time. “Grammy left me her cabin…so I could see him.”

  “She what? I got your message. I was out of town for the holiday. What is going on? Erebus is trouble, even dead. Do you need me to come there? I’m getting my purse and coming to bring you home right now.”

  “Daddy’s magic, my magic, he warned me about it. Could kill me, if I didn’t—”

  “What did he have you do? Rebecca, tell me.” Metal clanked in the background like steel girders being moved by a crane.

  “He made me choose witch or fae. Or the wayward magic would kill me.”

  “Did you choose?”

  “I picked fae,” Esme’s voice cracked. “But I have autumn fae magic.”

  A muffled cry echoed from the receiver and pounded against Esme’s eardrum. “No!”

  “Mom, I’m dying. My autumn fae magic is killing me.”

  “Your father had winter magic. Why didn’t you choose to be a witch, like Grammy, like me, or like I used to be?” Mom uttered a weepy whimper. “Now, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to see you again. What have you done? Why, Rebecca? Why didn’t you ask me first?” Her mother continued on in a torrent of words that swam together, but Esme tuned it out.

  Her father had winter fae blood. She was a winter faery.

  Thayne’s eyes lit. He’d heard what her mother said. Though her senses were still under some strange and frightening attack, she trusted the hope that vibrated from him.

  She wasn’t going to die. What she’d hoped for had come true. With a yelp from the shooting prickles across her face, she grinned at him.

  He propped on an elbow, picked up the phone, and said with a weak smile, “Mrs. Underhill, this is Thayne, King of the Winter Court. Please do come, and I assure you, you’ll be able to see your daughter whenever you wish. You’re more than welcome to be a guest at our court’s celebration as we accept Esmeralda.” He listened and agreed to whatever her mother replied, then said goodbye.

  Afraid to move but eager to try, Esme turned her head. “What is happening to me? Everything, every sensation is magnified so much it’s frightening and hurts.”

  “I’ve never seen a mortal or wayward become fae, but I think your body’s getting accustomed to the change. I hope. Maybe Halcyon can ease the transition.” He gently took her hand. “Does this hurt?”

  “A litt…lot.” She tried to lie, but the word shifted on her tongue.

  He leaned over and tentatively brushed his lips against hers, then kissed with the slightest pressure.

  After a momentary rush that tingled every nerve ending in her lips, the sensation of touch expanded. She identified new feelings that never existed before. And a new emotion from him she’d never noticed—a citrusy burst of self-awareness, autonomy.

  He pulled back and studied her face. “Did that hurt?”

  She smiled. “Um, at first, yes. It exploded like a firework. But after a few seconds, I felt each amazing spark.”

  He touched a hand to the side of her face. “Slowly, you will understand what your new body is capable of.” His movement revealed white bandages extending below his jacket cuff. Another covered one side of his neck.

  “You’re injured.”

  “It’s nothing. I’ll heal. I’ve countered a lot of strong magic today. As a lesson to help you, if you bring too much power to the surface for extreme tasks, it can harm your physical body. Don’t worry, though. Most of the time you only get minor bruises and weakness.” With a groan, he rose and hobbled to the door while addressing Shade. “I’ll call the guards to help you take Grayson to the Grand Ravine to be dealt with. Have Halcyon or one of her staff bring treatments to help Esmeralda.”

  Once Shade and Grayson left, Thayne and a guard helped Esme to bed. As she passed the dresser mirror, she paused to look at her newly transformed self. Like before, while wearing Crimson’s ring, her hair hung a foot longer in loose curls. Her lengthened joints, most noticeable in her fingers, increased her height by a couple inches. She liked the effect on her neck, now graceful like a swan’s. Her lips and cheeks needed no lipstick or blush, permanently flushed against paler ivory skin. In all, her new appearance seemed wondrous, with the exception of her eye color. Becoming fae had robbed her of the cobalt irises like her father’s, a reminder that their connection had severed permanently. She caressed Dove’s lifeless body as she lowered onto the bed.

  “I’ll take him to the back porch and apply a protecting shield of ice, then come back to help,” Thayne said, then he and the guard left.

  He returned alone and magically cleared away debris littering the floor and dresser top.

  “Oh, Rowe and his girlfriend are coming by to clean up and bring dinner, in—” she strained her head from the pillow to see the nightstand clock “—about an hour.”

  “And your mother’s on the way, too.” Thayne sat on the edge of the bed and tilted his head, lips twisted to one side. “You need to stay quiet for a while until your mind accommodates to the enhanced sensory input. You should stay here in Holly Cabin, and I will too, in the other room, in case you need something.”

  “But you’re injured.”

  He laughed. “Knowing Halcyon, she’ll arrive with baskets full to treat us both. And with the witch murderer soon to be charged, I won’t need to fight danger from him. What happened to your black amber? Clearly Grayson wanted it and couldn’t find it.”

  “Daddy told me to destroy it. In the process, Raclaw himself attacked. I used my wayward power and fought him off before I broke the talisman. After that, my witch strength floated away.” She recounted her fight with Raclaw.

  “Wow. I wish I’d been here. I sensed you were in danger, but I had no idea. You handled it well. And we have no worries about Raclaw’s court now that the talisman is gone.” He let out a heavy sigh.

  “Then you really never wanted my talisman for yourself,” she mused, “Just like you said.”

  He smiled. “Faeries don’t lie. Truly, though I was tempted to use its power to advance my court, I was afraid to possess it. I’
ve wanted so long to make choices of my own free will. The strong power in that stone would’ve only clouded my decisions, further imprisoned my choices.”

  She grimaced and reached for his hand. “I understand. I still want to follow my dream of being a healer, like Gram. Will Halcyon teach me the ways of the fae?”

  “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to teach you and also learn the ways of a hedge witch.” He sat upright. “But now I need to apply some glamour over you so Rowe and his friend aren’t frightened. Or would you rather appear as a faery?”

  “Rowe seems curious about fae, but I think it’s best to keep my change quiet. I need to be a witness in a murder case, without any way to be discredited.”

  “Good thinking.” He sprinkled a fine mist of snow over her, which returned what she could see of herself to a normal appearance. “You’ll need to learn how to do that yourself. Many lessons, but an eternity of time. Rest now.” He moved into the hearth room.

  Esme struggled with the thought of eternal life and lost track of present time.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Thayne answered. “Esmeralda’s resting in bed. She’s had a hard day. Please come in.”

  Rowe and his girlfriend Jancie, also a witch, appeared at the bedroom door to briefly say hello. “You must be tired,” he said with a questioning stare, and Esme hoped none of her fae characteristics or mannerisms showed. Worn out from being bombarded with heightened sensations, she was glad to have an excuse not to socialize and leave that to Thayne.

  He’d already cleaned the cabin before they arrived, so they shared the meal the couple brought.

  Jancie prepared a tray for Esme and sat with her while she slowly ate a tiny portion. Jancie talked about her own difficult time becoming accepted by folks in Coon Hollow Coven. She was a witch with very different magic from another coven.

  Although weak, Esme smiled and nodded, interested to know a woman her own age who stood strong with her own heritage against the established ways here. It’s so hard to talk with this pain. I wish I could tell her how much her story gives me hope. I’m still determined to be that sort of woman.