Legends of Havenwood Falls Volume One Page 8

  Jeremiah stood, shaking out, then folding his blanket. “I will retrieve the hemlock, while you two work on the spell.”

  I held up my hand to stop Jeremiah. “Wait a moment.” Then, reaching out to Kenna, I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close. “Before we begin, how about we contact the goddess and ask her permission to move forward with our plan? If she gives it, we will depart tonight. But if not, we will be stuck here for the natural course of our lives, leaving Karina to fend for herself, wherever she is, until it is time for us to travel again.”

  Kenna leaned into my shoulder, her small frame shaking as she struggled to hold back tears. “All right.”

  I held my little sister for a moment longer while she cried, releasing her frustration and fears into the universe, then dabbed her cheeks and positioned myself across from her as we prepared to call out to the goddess.

  Holding my sister’s hands, I closed my eyes and reached out with my thoughts. “Goddess above, hear our plea. We come to you for permission and guidance, and only with your love and approval will we move forward with our plan.”

  I didn’t have to explain what was in our hearts or minds, for the goddess always knew.

  Moments passed, until suddenly a wave of contentment fell over Kenna and me both, activating our heart chakras and radiating a soft glow within our auras.

  Kenna’s eyes snapped open and a smile stretched across her face. “She approves and understands.”

  “I had no doubt she would. Karina is the heart of this family, and without her, perhaps it is we who are truly lost.” I rose to stand, relieved we would be continuing our soul journeys despite this strange and unfortunate setback, and then walked to retrieve a piece of parchment, a quill, and some ink from our supplies.

  “Here.” I handed a rough sketch to Jeremiah. “This is what you are looking for.”

  Jeremiah looked at the drawing, finding a tall, thin stem with small clusters of delicate flowers fanning out at the top. “Okay. I’ve got it. I will be back as soon as I can.”

  I turned to Kenna. “So, are you ready to create the spell that will return us to our true time?” I smiled, trying to stay positive despite my own fear.

  Kenna reached for my hands, giving them a firm squeeze. “As a matter of fact, I am. I miss Karina too, and if this is what it takes to return us to our soul journey and put us back on the path to finding her, I am more than ready.”

  I stepped forward and drew her into hug. “Thank you for always being so strong.”

  “It is my job,” Kenna teased, her confidence restored. “Now, let’s get to work.”

  Chapter 17

  Kara

  Forty minutes later, Jeremiah returned with the hemlock in hand.

  “Did you encounter any problems?” Kenna asked, always the protector.

  “No. Did you?” He lifted a chin at all the gathered ingredients laid out before us.

  “No. We are ready.” I stepped forward, taking the hemlock from Jeremiah and mashing it into the three cups I had prepared.

  “Should we look for the chief in order to say our goodbyes?” he asked.

  “No need. I have asked that he join us here shortly,” I replied.

  Silence fell as we waited for the chief, each preparing ourselves privately.

  “Friends,” the chief called out as he entered our teepee, “you called for me? Is your dwelling not sufficient?”

  Jeremiah offered his hand. “Everything is fine and much appreciated, Chief. Thank you for your hospitality and for trusting us to save not only your tribe, but ourselves.”

  Chief Aquakawwa looked at me, then bowed his head. “You are leaving,” he stated somberly.

  “Yes. We will be returned to our time, and the Vargases will no longer exist in this one. They will need to be buried once the spell is cast,” I explained.

  Looking up, Chief Aquakawwa stood tall and lifted his hand, offering us a traditional farewell gesture. “I will return once the sun sets to confirm you are gone, then lay the family to rest. You have my word.”

  The chief turned and left, leaving us to proceed in peace.

  Stepping forward, I passed out the cups, then motioned to the three blankets lying on the ground. “Lie down once you drink the tea. After that, Kenna and I will complete the chant, and . . . that is it.”

  Taking deep breaths, we each moved into position, sitting first as we raised our cups.

  “Wait,” Kenna interrupted, “I just . . . I want you to know I love you both so much.”

  Jeremiah smiled with tears in his eyes, obviously unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

  “We love you, too.” I smiled. “Now, let’s go find our sister.”

  With confident nods, we all downed the tea, then lay back, ready to complete our spell. Reaching out to Kenna, I clasped her hand.

  “Return us to our journey’s end, find our sister, lost again. Use the bond that unites the three, as we will it, so mote it be.”

  Three more times we repeated the spell, falling silent as the death tea took its toll. We burst free of our mortal bodies, our energy signatures flying into the cosmos, confirming our spell had worked. Soon, we would be immersed in our new lives and able to continue our search for Karina.

  Chief Aquakawwa

  As the sun set, I reentered the teepee to gather the Vargas family and bury them as promised. The hair on my arms stood on end, a result, I was sure, from the remaining traces of magic lingering in the air.

  Lifting my arms, I looked to the sky. “Be free, my friends, and know that our remaining time here will be spent well. Thank you for your sacrifice, and for protecting our way of life within this special place. We are the people of the land and will make sure to leave it as pristine as we found it when our time here comes to an end.”

  Howls sounded nearby as a single white feather drifted down from the opening above, landing directly at my feet. Weaving my way between their bodies, I sang our traditional farewell song and performed a final dance in honor of the witches who had given their lives for my tribe and our uniquely magical home.

  Epilogue

  Phaedra – 1786

  I spotted Ric and Gaby poised on the cliff overlooking the village below. Landing softly next to them, I gazed down into the canyon we had all sworn to protect more than eighty years ago. “It’s hard to see the last of them go.”

  Gaby and Ric remained silent as we watched the current Ute chief prepare the most recent dead. He had cut their hair and washed their bodies, wrapping them with skins and rope to prevent their ghosts from rising. Their homes were then burned, along with their personal belongings, then he buried them atop the ashes in rock-covered graves. Over the last fifty years, the canyon had transformed from a full and thriving village into an eerie, isolated burial ground, high within the mountains. I shivered, never truly getting used to the sight. Beautifully painted teepees had been reduced to ash, replaced by mound after mound of heavy rocks, marking the dead.

  The chief––no longer with a tribe to rule––lay down beside the final grave, pulling stones atop his own body as he readied himself to join the Great Spirit as well. We had discussed his options and he promised me––the White Woman—that this was his preferred way to go. I watched as he swallowed the hemlock crushed within his fist and sent up a silent prayer when his chest ceased to rise and fall.

  “Time will cleanse this special place, wiping away all that has been. The witches foretold there would be others to settle in the canyon here, and I for one plan to honor their wishes and keep it protected and as pure as it should be.” I turned to face the Kasuns. “Will you remain, as promised?”

  Gaby stepped forward, extending her hand. “Of course. We always keep our word. And while we do not plan to live within the canyon itself, we will remain in the area and protect its secret until our dying days.”

  I extended my wings, preparing to take flight, when Ric reached out to me. “Will we see you around as well?”

  My eyes returned
to the canyon below as I thought about the secret that I, alone, now held. A baby––the chief’s newborn daughter, born before the witches’ spell was cast, that I had smuggled to the nearest Ute village. I, too, had followed my heart, and she was currently alive and well, living safely within a tribe of her ancestors.

  I pushed from the ground and hovered slightly above them. “Yes. I am certain you will.”

  OPEN TERRITORY – 1854

  We found it. Our slice of heaven on earth. The pull of magic strengthened as soon as we crested the last mountain ridge, and now, we’ve finally arrived. This secluded box canyon will serve as our haven from the outside world. Surrounded by a thick wood of evergreens, it rings with the sound of a great waterfall in the distance. Now, it is time for us to get to work. Protections need to be cast and then building can begin.

  We are home. ~ Anne-Marie Beaumont

  About the Author

  Bestselling and award-winning author Tish Thawer writes paranormal romances for all ages. From her first paranormal cartoon, Isis, to the Twilight phenomenon, myth, magic, and superpowers have always held a special place in her heart.

  Tish is known for her detailed world-building and magic-laced stories. She has received nominations for multiple RONE Awards (Reward of Novel Excellence), and Author of the Year (Fantasy, Dystopian, Mystery), as well as nominations and wins for Best Cover, and a Reader’s Choice Award.

  Tish has worked as a computer consultant, photographer, and graphic designer, is a columnist for Gliterary Girl media, and has bylines in RT Magazine and Literary Lunes Magazine. She resides in Arizona with her husband and three wonderful children.

  You can find out more about Tish and all her titles by visiting www.TishThawer.com and subscribing to her newsletter at www.tishthawer.com/subscribe.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to Kristie Cook for the invitation to join this wonderful world and family. I’m so honored to be here.

  * * *

  To my family: Whether together or separated by miles, Colorado will always be home. The memories we share of our lives there together will always be something I cherish. I love you all!

  * * *

  To Michele G. Miller and Kallie Ross Mathews: Thank you for allowing me to borrow your characters (Ric, Gaby, and Phaedra). They truly helped bring my story to life.

  * * *

  To all my Witches of BlackBrook fans: Thank you for following my Howe witches to Havenwood Falls, so we could finally discover why they were missing from Karina’s timeline in Maine, 1703. ;)

  Dawn of the Witch Hunters

  Morgan Wylie

  Also by Morgan Wylie

  YA Fantasy

  Silent Orchids (Book 1)

  Veiled Shadows (Book 2)

  Daegan (Novella 2.5)

  Fractured Darkness (Book 3)

  Fading Light (Book 4)

  The Sol-Lumieth (Forthcoming)

  The Rise of the Paladin (An Alandria Short Story Prequel~Free with Newsletter subscription)

  YA Paranormal/Supernatural

  HAILEY: The Necromancer (A Shadow Realm Novella 1)

  JAX: The Doppelgänger (A Shadow Realm Novella 2)

  WILLOW (A Shadow Realm Novella 3) (Forthcoming)

  SOLANGE: (A Shadow Realm Novella 4) (Forthcoming)

  NA/Adult Paranormal Romance

  RYLEN (The Tangled Web Book 1)

  MATHER (The Tangled Web Book 2)

  JET (A Tangled Web Novella)

  ENOCK (Forthcoming)

  LUCIUS (Forthcoming)

  Additional Collections

  Reawakened (A Havenwood Falls High Novella)

  To YOU the readers, whether this is your first introduction to Havenwood Falls or the Blackstone family of witch hunters, or if you are already an honorary member of the town like we all wish to be, I thank you for being here!

  * * *

  I hope you enjoy the origins of the Blackstone family and their epic adventure across the country, searching for the place we all long to be whether in the past or present . . . Havenwood Falls.

  Chapter 1

  The Early Years

  Central Virginia ~ 1840

  Barefoot, she walked the path padded with moss from her quaint cottage home to the outskirts of a neighboring village. Cessily Blackstone had a meeting with the leader of an unsuspecting coven of witches. She needed this meeting to offer her the answers she sought. Her time was running short, and she knew it. She could feel it in her bones. Since Sarah Stronghold—the leader about to meet her—had gifted her with the ability to sense not only witches near her but also black magic in her vicinity, Cessily could discern even more within herself. Something dark bubbled in her veins. The town doctor wasn’t able to help her. She hadn’t told her family yet—her five young children and her beloved husband, Hank—she couldn’t imagine leaving them behind. Only time and a visit with the witches—her last resort—would tell.

  The grass under her toes sent soothing shivers of joy up her legs, igniting a spring in her step. Though her outlook was grim, she couldn’t help but feel the life and strength of the forest around her, longing for her to commune with it. Her long blond hair flowed behind her as she headed toward the meeting place. As she drew closer, the familiar tingling in her arms gained strength. Over time, she had learned to be at peace with the unusual sensations she knew were not human characteristics. Cessily had learned to control the deep desires to seek out and kill a witch—apparently an undesired side effect of the “gift” she had been given to protect her family.

  She watched her children closely as they matured. Each had developed varying degrees of the same gift, passed down through her, but thankfully diluted by the joining of her human husband. Except for her second eldest, Rodney, who seemed to be fully human. Part of the gift she’d been given allowed her to sense others similar to her as well. Cessily did her best to keep the children away from the witches until they were ready, but the three eldest—LeAnna, Rodney, and Isaiah—knew of their heritage while the two youngest, Dante and Marie, were still in the dark.

  “Cessily, welcome. It has been quite some time since we last spoke,” a female voice came from the other side of a tree as Cessily passed by. With a smile on her face, a woman, possibly in her sixties, wearing a long brown but lightweight cloak with a hood over her head, stepped into the pathway. Tall and willowy, she held her chin high and her head proud.

  Cessily stopped and inclined her head respectfully. “It has indeed. Thank you for meeting with me, Sarah.”

  “How can I be of service to you?”

  “Is there a way to reverse the gift you bestowed on me?” Cessily sighed. “I mean no disrespect, but I am not sure it is having the intended effect as it is passed down to my children. They are reacting differently, each one.”

  Sarah frowned, but kept her eyes trained on Cessily, clearly debating something. “No, I’m afraid it is permanent, Cessily.”

  “Is there anything that can be done to help ease the strongest of the desires for my children? Please don’t misunderstand. I am grateful for how you helped me long ago. But I fear for my children. If they are not able to control the gift as I have learned to do, they might let it get the best of them.”

  “I told you when I awakened this power within you that it would not be an easy road. It is more a responsibility than a gift. You must instruct your children the way I instructed you.” Sarah’s gaze searched Cessily’s face. “What is it you’re not telling me, Cessily?”

  Cessily scratched at the back of her neck and turned her head slightly, as if listening to something.

  “I don’t have much time. I think I am dying, Sarah,” she said, her voice lowered. “And I’ve seen darkness in a couple of my children as the gift awakens within them. I’m scared for them.”

  “Give me your hand,” Sarah demanded, holding out her own palm face up. Cessily placed her hand palm up within Sarah’s. Sarah studied it, drew her index finger along Cessily’s life line, and frowned. A lone tear esca
ped one of her eyes. “It is true. I am sorry, Cessily.”

  “Is there anything you can do? Any magic that could delay my end? Anything?” Cessily pleaded, desperation escaping her tone. “I’m not ready to die,” she whispered.

  Sarah reached out her other hand and placed it tenderly against Cessily’s cheek. “I am truly sorry. There is nothing I can do. It is the way of nature, and I cannot interfere, even if I could do something.”

  “I understand.”

  “There is more you need to understand . . . more I have not told you about your past, Cessily.” Sarah’s words were slow, hesitant, with a weight Cessily didn’t comprehend.

  “What is it?” Cessily frowned and tilted her head, watching Sarah struggle with something internally.

  “This gift . . . this power you believe I gave you . . .”

  “Yes?” Cessily was concerned. A strange sensation crept up her spine, and chills erupted across her skin.

  “I was not the giver. I led you to believe I gave it to you.”

  “If you did not, who did? What aren’t you telling me now, Sarah?”

  “No one did. Unless you count your ancestors, that is.” Sarah sighed and stepped back from Cessily to gain some needed space. “Cessily, the power you feel, struggle with, gain insight from—your ancestors are the source of it. You are a hunter . . . a witch hunter, to be precise.”

  “What? You did something, though. I could feel the power flow through me when you blessed me all those years ago,” Cessily said, doubt flooding her words.