Chapter 12
I stood at the bottom of the steps of the marble building, admiring the six enormous columns at the front. A statue of a witch stood atop the roof, holding a moon skyward.
“Are you excited for your first coven meeting?” Aster asked. She’d driven me to the Silver Moon headquarters after Mrs. Babcock, Thornhold’s resident brownie, arrived to look after Marley.
“This place looks more intimidating than I expected,” I said. I’d only seen it from the air when Marley and I had taken the broomstick tour of the town.
Aster patted my arm. “It’ll be fine. Let’s go in. Mother likes us to be punctual. It sets an example for the rest of the coven.”
We walked up the steps together and walked through the portico entrance doors. A man stopped us inside.
“I need to check your bag, miss,” he said. He stuck out his wand and touched the outside of my bag. “All clear, thank you.”
I shot a brief glance at Aster. “Security?”
“Dillon is the Watchman,” Aster said. “He handles safety and security for the coven, among other things. Dillon Stanton-Summer, I’d like you to meet my cousin, Ember Rose. This is her first coven meeting.”
“Welcome to the Silver Moon coven,” Dillon said. He was an attractive wizard with light brown hair, a square jaw, and plenty of muscles.
“Thank you,” I replied.
Dillon gave Aster a quick peck on the cheek. “You look beautiful, as always. Where’s my cousin?”
Aster sighed. “Sterling will be here. He’s running late. You know how he is with work.”
“He needs to slow down and enjoy life a little more,” Dillon said. “He’ll work himself into an early grave.”
“I wouldn’t object if you told him that directly,” Aster said. She flashed an encouraging smile.
Dillon offered a sympathetic look before focusing on me. “If you ever need a protective ward or some other type of magical protection, that’s what I’m here for.”
“Is security really an issue for the coven?” I asked. “I mean, what did you think you’d find in my bag?”
Dillon fixed his hazel eyes on me. “Your cousin Florian is currently living out his days as a frog.”
I twitched at the mention of Florian. Marley and I still hadn’t told anyone that Florian was quite possibly living out his amphibious life in the woods behind the estate.
“Imagine if whoever cast that spell did it during a coven meeting,” Dillon continued. “You’d have an entire room full of frogs. It would be anarchy.”
“But whoever cast the spell on Florian wasn’t in the dining room with us, or with the other two guys when they became frogs. How would you have prevented that?” I was genuinely curious.
“If we know there’s the potential for harm, we can arrange a protective spell,” Dillon said, his square jaw set and serious. “But we can’t prevent every attack. It simply isn’t possible.”
Aster clapped the Watchman on the shoulder. “You do an excellent job for the coven, Dillon. No one’s suggesting otherwise.”
“I really wasn’t,” I added. “I’m new. I’ve got no clue how things work.” And should probably keep my big mouth shut.
Aster looped her arm through mine. “Come along, Ember. Let’s mingle before the meeting. This is a good time for a chat with other members of the coven.”
A thin elderly man approached us. Unfortunately, his balding head was right at my eye level, which left me no choice but to stare at the strands of gray hair that swept across the top of his shiny dome.
“Excuse me, Miss Rose,” he said in his gravelly voice, “but there’s the matter of your dues to discuss.”
I blinked. “My dues?”
“Argyle Pennywhistle is the Pursewarden,” Aster said.
The last name sounded familiar. “Are you related to Bryony Pennywhistle?” I asked.
“My granddaughter,” he said. “She’s the best mixologist in the coven. Owns a cute little store in town called Charmed, I’m Sure.”
“Yes, I’ve been there,” I said. I didn’t feel the need to mention why. Argyle probably didn’t want to know his granddaughter had been hot and heavy with an incubus.
“It would be nice to have the best mixologist in the coven attend a meeting on occasion,” Aster said. The reprimand was loud and clear, although I felt sorry for Argyle. It wasn’t his fault if Bryony chose not to come.
“I wholeheartedly agree,” Argyle said. He peered at me. “Now, young lady, about your dues…”
“Speak to Mother,” Aster interjected. “She’ll take care of it.”
“Very well, then,” he replied with a slight bow. He caught sight of someone behind me and his face paled. “Mind your backs, witches, Camille is headed this way.”
He scurried off before the dreaded Camille reached us.
“Who’s Camille?” I asked, but there was no time for a response.
“Why, hello, my lovely new sister.” Camille’s loud voice reverberated throughout the room. Even worse, it had that annoying singsong quality. Where was Dillon and his protective spell when I needed him?
“Camille, I’d like you to meet my cousin, Ember Rose.” Aster turned to me. “Ember, this is the coven Bard, Camille Poppywick.”
“Bard?” I asked. “Like Shakespeare?”
“I’m the musical director,” Camille said, practically bursting into song. With her large body, ample bosom, and blond braids sticking out from behind her ears, she reminded me of the cartoon version of an opera singer. Stick a Viking helmet on her head and she’d be perfectly cast.
I inclined my head. “The coven performs musicals?”
“Once a year,” Camille replied. “My main responsibilities are to keep our original songs and ballads alive. I also lead the coven in chants or songs during rituals.”
“Camille also provides accompaniment on a variety of instruments,” Aster said. “She’s the boys’ piano teacher.”
“And they are progressing very nicely, my dear,” Camille said. “Not that I’m a bit surprised. The Roses are chock full of talent, after all.” Camille examined me. “You seem like you might be good at something. How’s your singing voice?”
“You’d have to ask my shower,” I said. “The acoustics in there are excellent, though, so probably not an accurate assessment.”
“Showers always are,” Camille agreed. “I’d love to have you involved. I’m always on the hunt for musical volunteers.”
“Always,” Aster said with a tight smile.
The sound of ringing bells sent everyone scurrying to the next room. I followed Aster inside the cavernous hall and tried to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. The hall was incredible. The only light came from the hundreds of candles set up along the perimeter of the room and from three candlelit chandeliers above. There were three enormous wooden tables in the middle of the hall, about twenty feet long and five feet wide. At the front of the room was a single, smaller table that faced the hall. I recognized the witches and wizards seated there because I’d met them during my induction ceremony. The High Priestess, the High Priest, the Summoner, the Crone, the Mother, and the Maiden. On the end of the table sat Gardenia, the Scribe. Her iPhone was already on the table in front of her, ready for copious note-taking. My gaze zeroed in on the Summoner. He was as creepy now as he was the night of my ceremony. Beside him rested his signature blackthorn staff.
Aster guided me to seats toward the front. Linnea was already there with Aunt Hyacinth. I cringed when I noticed the empty seat beside her—probably Florian’s. My aunt gave me a slight nod as I slipped into my chair.
I glanced across the table and saw Hazel and Marigold huddled next to each other. They were probably comparing notes to see in which class I sucked more. My money was on runecraft.
I felt dozens of pairs of eyes on me, which was understandable, since I was an oddity. A new witch in town from the human world with no knowledge of her powers. Definite weirdo.
Another bell rang and
the room quieted. Iris Sandstone, the High Priestess, stood in her silver cloak. The Silver Moon crown on her head glistened in the candlelit room.
She raised her arms in the shape of a V. “O’ wondrous Goddess of the Moon. Let us give thanks.”
A gust of wind blew through the hall and the flames flickered. I got goosebumps on my arms, ready to experience a majorly atmospheric meeting—until the Scribe stood to speak.
“The monthly Silver Moon coven meeting is now called to order,” she said, and proceeded to summarize the minutes from the previous meeting. “And now the Pursewarden will give us the financial report.”
Argyle stood from his place at the middle table. “The homemade candle fundraiser made a net profit of $1,200,” he reported. “That leaves enough money in the budget for new robes for the incoming class.”
“Class?” I whispered to Aster.
“The eleven-year-olds who come into their magic,” Aster replied in a hushed tone.
I surveyed the room but saw no sign of small people. “Why aren’t there any kids here?”
“The children don’t start attending coven meetings until they turn eighteen,” she whispered.
Aunt Hyacinth gave us both a look that would have wilted a cactus. I straightened in my chair and resolved to save all my questions for the end.
The rest of the meeting was uneventful. It was like attending a PTA meeting, not that I was ever able to participate in many of those, between my work schedule and single parenthood. Most school events were designed around a two-parent household.
After the Crone announced changes to her individual counseling schedule, the High Priestess stood and opened the floor to new business.
Aunt Hyacinth pushed back her chair without waiting to be acknowledged. Everyone turned to her with rapt attention.
“Good evening, my lovely coven. First, I’d like to take a moment to welcome my niece, Ember Rose, to her first official coven meeting.”
A smattering of applause greeted me and I found myself smiling so hard that my cheeks began to ache.
“As many of you know, Ember left Starry Hollow as an infant and was raised in the human world. We’re taking great care to slowly introduce her to the world of magic. For those instructors who haven’t yet heard from me, rest assured that you will.”
Across the room, a hand shot up. Aunt Hyacinth nodded crisply.
“You don’t think incantations should be higher on the priority list?” a deep male voice asked.
Aunt Hyacinth bristled. “Are you questioning my approach, Wren?”
“You know I’m not as bold as that,” Wren said, and I heard a few snickers in the crowd. “I haven’t had the pleasure of teaching a Rose. I’m looking forward to the challenge…I mean, the opportunity.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Aunt Hyacinth replied. “Anyone else want to throw a hat in the ring to be next on the schedule? How about you, Lee?” She directed her attention to a dark-haired man next to Hazel. “Surely we can all agree that the rigors of ritual toolcraft are a priority for a new witch. By all means, let’s have her bedazzle a chalice.”
No one spoke.
“On to other matters,” Aunt Hyacinth said smoothly. “I’m sure you’re all wondering about the status of my afflicted son.”
There were murmurs of interest around me.
“You’ll be pleased to know that Sheriff Nash is working diligently to apprehend the magic user.”
My ears perked up. Aunt Hyacinth was speaking well of the sheriff? When did that change occur?
“I’ve also requested that the staff of my newspaper investigate the matter,” she continued. “That way, no stone is left unturned.”
“Are there any leads?” Iris asked in her soft-spoken voice.
“There have been a few and more information comes to light each day,” Aunt Hyacinth said. “I have complete faith that my son will be restored to me in perfect health very soon.” She paused. “And the other gentlemen, too, of course.”
“Thank you for the update, Hyacinth,” Iris said. “We’re all hopeful that the matter is resolved quickly.”
I leaned over to Aster. “Since when does she think the sheriff does a good job?”
“This is her public face,” Aster whispered. “You’ll learn soon enough.”
She had a public face? That meant I couldn’t take her words at face value. Popcorn balls. I was from New Jersey. We only had one face for all occasions—pissed off.
Iris ended the meeting with a request to donate used wands to the Empty Cauldron, an organization for needy witches and wizards. Aster had forgotten to mention this one in her list of charities.
We filed out of the hall and were met by trays upon trays of baked goods and a table of colorful, sparkling drinks. Linnea scooped up two star-shaped cookies and handed one to me.
“You have to try this one,” she said. “It’s my favorite.”
“I didn’t realize there’d be treats at the end,” I said. “I would’ve come last month.” No one laughed.
“Why do you think the meetings are so well attended?” Aster queried. “Everyone’s waiting for the best bit.”
I bit into the star cookie. Although it didn’t look like anything special, the taste was off-the-charts incredible. It was like a canon fired chocolate and salted caramel straight into my mouth. I stared at the cookie.
“This doesn’t even look like it has chocolate or caramel in it,” I said. “How can it taste like this?”
“Those must be your favorites,” Linnea said.
I frowned. “They are.”
She smiled and finished off her cookie. “Mine tastes like chocolate and mint.”
“It’s called a Wishing Star,” Aster explained. “It tastes like your two favorite flavors.”
“But they all look the same,” I said. “How is that possible?” Inwardly, I berated myself for such a dumb question. How was it possible? How was any of this possible? Magic, of course.
“I serve these to guests sometimes,” Linnea said. “But I don’t do it often because I can’t seem to stop myself from having one too many.” She cast a sly glance at Aster. “Sort of like Aster and alcohol.”
“Take that back, Linnea,” her younger sister said, indignant. “I do not overindulge in anything.”
“Yes, that’s what Sterling says,” Linnea shot back.
My eyes bulged. This was the first time I’d heard the sisters bicker and, I had to admit, I found it fascinating.
To my dismay, Aunt Hyacinth’s sudden presence stopped the bickering in its tracks. “My driver is out front. Ember, why don’t you ride with me? That way Aster can go straight home to Sterling and the boys.”
“Sterling never made it to the meeting,” I said.
“No, he texted me,” Aster said. “He got held up at work and went straight home.”
I knew he was the president of Hexed Brewing Company, a business that manufactured various magical alcoholic drinks. He kept the Rose-Muldoon family well stocked with their favorite brands.
I polished off my cookie and tried not to moan out loud. It was that good. “Ready when you are, Aunt Hyacinth.”
As we maneuvered through the throng of coven members toward the exit, a handsome wizard stepped between us and the door. He was tall and muscled with a square jaw, not unlike the Watchman.
“What is it, Wren?” Aunt Hyacinth asked coolly.
“Sorry about earlier, ma’am,” he said. “You know I didn’t mean anything by it. Just having a little fun.” He flashed a charming smile and I was surprised to see Aunt Hyacinth actually relax her stern expression.
“Yes, Wren. You’re always trying to have a little fun,” she replied. “Something you and Florian have in common. I’m surprised you’re not hopping around town right now.”
“Florian and I tend to drink from different wells, if you know what I mean.”
Aunt Hyacinth patted his cheek. “Yes, at least you tend to limit your philandering behavior to witches. My son could
learn a thing or two from you.”
Wren appeared amused. “You think so?”
“Of course, darling. It’s a numbers game. The more witches he dates, the more likely he is to fall in love with one of them.”
“Then how do you explain my continued bachelorhood?”
“Stubbornness,” Aunt Hyacinth replied. “Speaking of stubborn, have you met my niece, Ember?”
Wren stuck out a hand. “I’ve been hoping for an introduction. Wren Stanton-Summer.”
“Dillon’s brother?” I asked.
“We’re fraternal twins,” he replied. “A rarity among wizards.”
“Wren is the Master-of-Incantation,” Aunt Hyacinth said. “You’ll be working with him…eventually.”
So, I’d been saddled with a crazed clown and a cheerleading drill sergeant when I could’ve been working one-on-one with this magical piece of prime wizard beef? I suddenly felt deprived.
“I’m always up for new lessons,” I said. “Bring on the incantations.”
“You’ll have a chance soon enough,” Aunt Hyacinth said. “It was good to see you, Wren,” Aunt Hyacinth practically dragged me out the door.
The car was waiting directly in the front of the building. I slid into the backseat beside her, thinking how pleasant it would’ve been to stay behind and talk to Wren. He certainly seemed eager to talk to me. That wasn’t going to happen as long as I was being carted around by family members.
“Aunt Hyacinth,” I said slowly.
“I agree, my darling,” she said, and gentle patted my thigh. “I think it’s time you have your own car.”
Chapter 13
I pushed open the door to the newspaper office, a cup of coffee with a shot of fizzle in my hand. The barista had assured me I’d love it, so I decided to give it a whirl. If I expected Marley to try new things, then I had to lead by example.
"Must be nice to get mornings off," Bentley said, typing away on his keyboard.
“I don’t get them off,” I shot back. “I have witch training, unless you’d prefer I practice here on you. I’m getting very good at throwing objects around a room with my mind.” Okay, maybe a slight exaggeration.
Magic & Mystery: Starry Hollow Witches, Book 2 Page 12
