Pink Moon Rising
The Witches of Enumclaw - Book One
By K. A. Miltimore
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
The Witches
Prologue
Witchery
Enchantment
Sorcery
Hexes
Blessings and Curses
Soothsaying
Potions
Spells
Charms
Omens
Divination
Casting
Incantations
Grimoires
Familiars
Cauldron
Scrying
Sweetenings
Amulets
Gathering
Crystals
Elements
Conjuration
Glamouring
Bewitchment
Mojo
Auguries
Notes:
Biography:
Copyright © 2020 K.A. Miltimore - All Rights Reserved
ASIN: B082DJ1W1Y
All characters and settings appearing in this work
are ficticious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or
dead, or to any places or locations is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed,
or transmitted in any form or by any means,
including photocopying, recording, or other electronic
or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission
of the author, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in critical reviews and certain other
noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For
permission requests, contact the Author at www.kamiltimore.com
Cover Illustration by Bridgette Dracass
Other works by the Author:
The Gingerbread Hag Series:
Burned to a Crisp - Book One
In the Teeth of It - Book Two
Sweet Tooth and Claw - Book Three
The Necromancer and the Chinchilla - Short Stories
from the Gingerbread Hag Bakery
Autumn Nights - Thirteen Spooky Fall Reads, contributor
To all the friends and family who support me on this journey. With much love, K.A.
Preparing to Cast
Moons of the Year
○ Wolf Moon - January
○ Snow Moon - February
○ Worm Moon - March
○ Pink Moon - April
○ Flower Moon - May
○ Strawberry Moon - June
○ Buck Moon - July
○ Sturgeon Moon - August
○ Corn Moon - September
○ Hunter's Moon - October
○ Beaver Moon - November
○ Cold Moon - December
The Witches
Sisters of the Crescent Moon:
Helen Griffith - Head Witch
Sage Philips
Frankie Styles
Mel Steverson
Kat Bohanan
Diedre Connolly
Widdershins Circle:
Morgan Cornwall - Head Witch
Alice Kyteler
M.C. Laveau
Catherine Monvoisin
Angele de la Barthe
Avalon Cornwall
Other Witches:
Rachelle Curley - High Witch of the
Pacific Northwest Witches’ Council
Naomi Green - Banished witch
Prologue
"My one great talent lies in making those who wrong me suffer horribly."
- Archilochus
Moon at Zero Percent Visibility
The alarm sounded at dawn, as usual. There was just too much to get done. Who had time for sleep? She hardly slept more than six hours in any given night, and usually that suited her just fine. But this dawn she felt especially tired and the pull of the blankets called to her. Resisting, she found her way to the bathroom, letting the nightlight guide her. No need to turn on the lights if she might go back to bed. After all, she was a partner, she could be late one day to work. She could text her secretary and let her know.
The huge mirror hung over the pedestal sink and she gazed into its dim reflection. Her face, with its sharp angles and bangs of brunette hair, looked different in the darkened room, almost as if she were blurred. Blinking, she rubbed her eyes furiously to clear them. In the dark, another face looked back at her.
"Don't be afraid, I come to offer you something you want, something you crave. I mean you no harm." The voice said. The pale face with deep dark spots for eyes floated in front of her own.
"I'm not afraid. And what could you have that I would possibly want?" There was not a tremor of fear in her voice.
"Power. If you'll but follow my plan."
She stared at the face for a moment, hovering there in her mirror. Whatever this specter wanted, maybe it could be useful to her as well.
"I'm listening," she said, leaning closer to the mirrored surface. The pale face flickered and a smile stretched across its dark mouth.
Witchery
Moon at Two Percent Visibility
Enumclaw in April is usually a soggy affair, with wet and blustery winds barreling down from nearby Mount Rainier. This year was no exception. Helen shook the hood of her yellow slicker to avoid drips coming down her neck. As a claims adjuster for Enumclaw Mutual, her commute was all of three blocks and she always walked to work, rain or shine. Why waste the expense on gas, even on a howling wet day, she thought. Helen was practical and pragmatic that way - really in all things, big or small. She always packed her lunch, she shopped at second hand stores and she bought her groceries in bulk to save on impulse purchases. Helen liked to think she had Scandinavian thriftiness in her blood, along with the blood of her witch ancestors.
"Morning, Helen. What a day, huh?" Marlene, the receptionist, greeted Helen as she came into the squat insurance building. There was a colossal mural on the wall across from the reception desk, showing some stylized vista view of the Enumclaw plateau. Helen found herself looking at it every time she came to work. The simplicity of the scene appealed to her. She liked things to be simple.
"Good morning, Marlene. Yes, it's a fright out there, but nothing unusual for spring, right? Let's hope it dries out a bit soon. My grass is about as spongy as it can get right now." Helen finished shaking the slicker over the large doormat to avoid dripping onto the industrial carpet. There were no coats on the rack; she would probably be the first in her cubicle, as usual.
"Yes, it's hard to remember that all these April showers will turn into May flowers when you are staring at days of rain and gloomy clouds. But the flowers will come. Eventually." Marlene said, reaching for the phone and the flashing light. She gave Helen a wave and answered the call with early morning chipperness.
As she suspected, Helen was the first at her desk and that suited her just fine. The earlier she started, the earlier she could finish up for the day. There was so much work to do to prepare for the Eve of May Festival in just a few weeks, and the burden fell squarely on her Coven's shoulders. The Sisters of the Crescent Moon - her Coven in Enumclaw - had the privilege and the duty of organizing this year's Festival for the Pacific Northwest Covens. The Witches Council had selected their group as the host and while Helen and her fellow witches were excited, they were also nervous at the huge amount of work it required. Covens from all over the Northwest would be converging on nearby Ravensdale for the event. With only six members in their circle, that meant a lot of work for each of t
hem to pull this event off without a hitch. Helen had contemplated taking some of her vacation time from work to devote to preparing, but in the end, she was too practical and too pragmatic to use it. It was better to bank it up for a rainy day - err, a rainier day when she might need it. She could just buckle down and take care of all the planning during the remaining evenings and weekends.
She'd finish working on all her claims as early as she could and then head over to the bookstore for their planning meeting tonight. Everyone should be attending. Maybe she'd have time to pick up some fudge at the local candy shop to share with the group; event planning always goes down easier with sweets.
"Good morning, this is Helen calling from Enumclaw Mutual to discuss your claim," she said into her headset. The spoon in her teacup swirled softly in a circle as she mirrored the motion with her index finger.
Eight o'clock and Diedre was still in bed. She found it hard to open her eyes this morning, and her fingers found the soft fur of her cat, Jinx, next to her without looking for him. He gave an appreciative purr as she stroked his fur, as she was willing herself to wake up. She had gone to bed at seven, tucked in with a book and a cup of chamomile tea.
"It must be a spring cold," she had told herself, and her remedy had been tea and a good book and rest. But sleep never quite seemed to come, and Diedre tossed and turned all night, with thoughts of dark clouds and whispering voices keeping sleep at bay. In the gray light of the morning, she felt more exhausted than when she went to bed.
"Jinx, this is a fine how-do-you-do, eh? I'm due to open the shop this morning. Katelyn won't appreciate it if I call out." Her fingers gave the cat's body a last few scratches before she forced herself to open her eyes and throw back the blanket. Perhaps with enough coffee, she could find the energy to make it through her full day. She was running Katelyn's store, The Owl and the Jam Jar, all day, and then there was the Coven meeting at the bookstore, The Sequel. She wouldn't be back in her bed for at least twelve hours and that seemed impossibly long. Diedre's head throbbed and the light from the bedroom window made her squint.
"Maybe some feverfew and lemon balm will perk me up and put this headache behind me," she said to Jinx, as he licked his paws, blinking at her with his bright green eyes. As her familiar, he might know what she was feeling, but as a cat, he was far too imperious to appear concerned.
"No sympathy, I see. That's fine. And typical."
She blinked blearily at the bright lights reflected in the mirror, examining her face through squinting eyes. Beyond the dark circles under her eyes, her face had a strange sallow look to it. She definitely did not look well. She might have to break down and go see a doctor - something she never did. For now, some makeup and some coffee would have to do.
Her phone buzzed, a text from her boyfriend, Darro. She moved back toward her bedside where the phone was plugged in to charge. It seemed a mile away.
She smiled and hit the reply button. Her fingers felt thick - too thick to type. She hit the heart emoji three times and then send. Maybe Darro could come by later and bring her some chicken soup. It was a comforting thought and she made a note to call him at lunch later. But first, she needed coffee and some feverfew with lemon balm.
Sage had been up since five o'clock, which was just about the only time in the day she had to herself. She had already gone for a run down the dark, slick streets, showered and made breakfast for her daughters before the first glimmers of gray light peeped over the horizon. The kids would be off to school and Sage would have a full day of chores ahead of her. Now that it was just her raising the girls, everything was harder. Being a widow at thirty-two was hard. Being the sole provider and the one who kissed all the boo-boos, made all the lunches, cleaned all the toilets, raked all the leaves, baked all the birthday cakes, and made all the dinners was hard. Without the support of the Sisters, she wasn't sure she would have made it through this year. Chris' death had been a freak accident, leaving her with two eight year olds and a life insurance policy that would cover them for awhile, but not that long.
Given everything on her plate, it would have been easy to tell the Coven that she had to step aside from helping with the Festival - everyone would have understood. But Sage wasn't about to do that. These women had been her lifeline in the dark days after Chris' death. They had been there with warm casseroles and babysitting and presents for the twins. Diedre and Helen came by her house at least twice a week to check on her. Frankie had finished building the Big Toy in the backyard for the girls - the one that Chris had started but had never had the time to finish. Mel came by to bring treats from that bakery she worked at and to play games with the girls. They had all gone out of their way to help her during the roughest year of her life. Things were far from okay, but without them, she wasn't sure she would even be able to face her life and the task of putting the pieces back together. She owed them some help with the Festival. Besides, it made her feel like maybe things could get back to normal.
"Gracie, Gabbi - time to wake up, sleepyheads. Bus will be here soon and you need to eat your breakfast. Ready for some bunny shaped pancakes?" The girls stirred in their beds at the sound of pancakes. The fact that Sage made them look like Hester, Helen's rabbit, was all the better. The girls loved it when Hester came for a visit.
"Up and at 'em silly billies. We have a whole big day ahead of us. Let's get at it." She flicked on the overhead light in their room and a pair of small groans escaped from the bunk beds. Sage chuckled. Just like their father - a pair of night owls who struggled in the morning.
"Tonight, Auntie Rosemary will be coming by to watch you two. I am meeting the circle but if you are good, maybe I will bring you both home some books from the bookstore. How does that sound?" Two muffled "uh huh" sounds came from the beds.
"Okay, if you aren't up and out of those beds by the time I count to ten, I am taking those bunny pancakes and dowsing them in pickle juice. One...Two...Three..." The girls laughed and the blankets rustled until she reached the count of nine. Suddenly, two blonde-haired girls appeared poking out of the covers, smiling.
"No pickle juice, Mommy. That's gross."
"Yeah, you always say that but you never do it. You are just teasing."
"Don't tempt me, girls. Let's get rolling or you will be late for school."
Sage shut the door behind her as she heard the sound of feet across their carpet. They would be ready for pancakes and making book requests in only a few moments. She sat down on the top stair and hugged her knees to her chest. Spring meant a fresh start and though Sage had loved her life with Chris, it was time she started thinking about her future. Maybe Helen could give her some advice. The practical Helen always seemed to know what needed to be done.
"Let's go, girls. I have the pickle jar ready to pour..." She shouted as she stood from the step and padded down toward the kitchen. She heard them giggling behind their bedroom door.
Enchantment
Two days since the new moon and Morgan wondered about the curse. The Widdershins Coven had performed the ceremony to curse the local witch, just as instructed. Now, two days later, her curiosity got the better of her. She gazed out the windows of the Seattle high rise, staring at another building just like hers, with people all working feverishly behind desks, floor after floor of them. Her billable rate was five hundred dollars per hour and right now, Mr. Craw and Associates was going to be billed for the time she mused out the window about a witch forty miles away. If the curse worked, it was the first step in a larger plan - one that promised great rewards for Morgan and her Coven.
"Ms. Cornwall, you have a call from Alice Kyteler. Would you like me to put her through?" The voice of her assistant snapped Morgan back from her daydreams.
"Yes, Felicia. And please bring me another doppio macchiato." Morgan picked up her handset and pushed the flashing button.
"Alice, this is a surprise. What can I do for you?" Morgan could pic
ture the red-haired woman in her uniform of yoga pants and sheepskin boots.
"Hi Morgan, sorry to bother you at work, but I am just dying to know if the curse worked? Any news? Has that man called back?" Alice's voice sounded out of breath to Morgan. Perhaps she was using her indoor ski-machine while she talked to her, Morgan mused.
"Not a word from Mr. Syon. I was just wondering about it all myself. Perhaps if we don't hear anything soon, I can take a drive down on the weekend to Enumclaw to his shop. He called me from some number listed for 'The Red Bat', whatever that is. I can ask Felicia to look it up. For now though, let's focus on the upcoming Festival. We have two weeks before the Eve of May festival in Ravensdale. If we want to be considered for hosting next year, we need to make a good showing at the gathering." Morgan tapped her pencil as she spoke, grinding the slate gray tip into the creamy stationary, marring the surface.
"Alright, Morgan. Let me know what else we need to do. We are all still meeting at your house, right? Angele and Catherine are working on our Coven table for the vendor market display. I think everything will be perfect. We might end up with a new recruit out of it. We could use a few more members." Alice huffed heavily, apparently picking up the pace of her stride.
"Let's discuss it all at the meeting tomorrow night. Let the others know to bring snacks or whatever - it is the maid's night off. Goodbye, Alice." Morgan set down the headset without waiting to hear Alice's response. It was time she got back to reviewing the deposition transcript and quit thinking about the cursed witch. Even if it was the Coven's first such curse, she felt sure they had done everything precisely, down to the letter, as instructed. Morgan never did anything less than to the letter.
Pink Moon Rising: The Witches of Enumclaw Book One Page 1
