Well, for those out there who are aware that tomorrow is the rise of the Snow Moon, and those who aren’t, I thought I’d go ahead and post a short story I wrote, entitled just that — “Snow Moon.”

“Snow Moon” is from my newest collection of short stories, A Murder in the Village and Other Mystical Tales of the Ouachita Mountains. It’s a little paranormal yarn about a witch and a witch hunter and lessons learned along the way. Hope you enjoy.

Snow Moon

There are questions that persist, persist incessantly in one’s mind. What is the nature of good, of evil, of self-serving action versus those who strive for selfless acts of good?

It was nerve-wracking, puzzling through these philosophical conundrums. But what was worse was entertaining such things as pragmatic concerns.

Madison Angleterre was such an old name for such a young woman. You’ll grow into it, her mother had always said. But she wondered if indeed she’d live that long, long enough to grow into it.

Ostensibly, she was a witch, being hunted by witch hunters who didn’t deal in philosophical abstracts but absolutes.

And as a consequence, she was in hiding, hiding behind the locked gates of a somewhat exclusive community as large as it was.

Some had called her a rogue witch, having ditched the coven that she was raised in as essentially a second family. She was initiated at the age of ten by her mother and aunt as a Wiccan. But then the coven had split when she was twenty, the young dividing from the old.

And, granted, everyone makes mistakes, particularly at twenty.

She’d made twenty-four a week ago. She celebrated alone. She couldn’t be in contact with anyone. It was too dangerous. The coven that she’d called home for a number of years had been split asunder, like lightning splitting through a majestic tree.

“Jayelle, you reach too high. It will not go unnoticed.”

How had she responded, their dynamic, red-headed leader? It was hard to remember. In her mind, it was so very difficult to recall.

The response, she believed, had been something like — “Nonsense, nothing is out of my reach.” Had she actually said that? “My reach?” And the others heard her as well and did nothing? But now Jayelle was in a facility somewhere, her mind turned to mush. Was she pondering the nature of evil somewhere inside that tortured shell? No, it seemed not. From what Madison understood, she was not pondering anything, reduced to the mental capacity of an imbecile.

Her heart pounded wildly in her chest with fear. Her sensitivities were collapsing in on her. Why did she break with her mother’s coven? She had thought them too inflexible, outdated, too adhered to the old ways. With one step forward was also a thousand reasons to step back, to be cautious, to be wary.

“Remember the rule of three,” her mother had counseled. It was always subject to interpretation, but the gist was that whatever energy you put out into the world, you receive it back threefold. She breathed in deeply. She had to focus, to concentrate. She looked out of the apartment over the lake outside. Just lie low, just for a bit, until the danger passed, then go home. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d done anything directly to hurt anyone. She kept telling herself that, though it sounded remarkably unconvincing even in her own ears.

*

He was certain of it. There were only three left now of the small covenant of nine. And this one, particularly gifted he felt, had broken off quickly, trying to melt into the Ouachita mountains.

“Certainly, we’ve broken their backs, their group, the leader is completely depowered.”

He frowned. Curiously, there were three of them as well, at present working together. One was a former academic, one an ex-priest, and he, with his very checkered past.

“Depowered? That seems a rather innocuous description, Clarence.”

The younger man, the ex-academic, philosophy was it, looked directly at him with eyes filled with regret. That was good. They hadn’t lost their humanity, not yet anyway.

“I wasn’t prepared, Brother. When she was confronted, I felt as though my thoughts were in a muddle. I literally couldn’t remember who I was or why I was there. And then she fell upon me, putting her hand to my chest, ripping energy out of me increasingly. I-I wasn’t prepared,” he stammered.

“Yes,” Lucas murmured. “She was apparently formidable.”

“If Jackson hadn’t shown up, I don’t know what would have happened.”

Their ebony-skinned Brother commented dryly, “I performed the ceremony quickly, more so to save Clarence, and well, she fought it, so I pressed too hard.”

“And her mind snapped,” Lucas said softly.

“Yes,” Jackson replied, seeming much less concerned than his younger Brother. But then again, he was an older, well-seasoned man in his forties and had seen much of the world during his time serving the church.

“We should always approach with at least two,” Clarence nearly whispered.

“That’s not feasible. We are only three at present,” Jackson stated flatly.

“Move on for now,” Lucas murmured.

*

An order, a sacred order, and a nearly extinct order.

La Lumiere, his father had inducted him into at twelve. And throughout its existence, its members had ebbed and flowed, always meeting in secret, in someone’s basement on a stormy night, or perhaps in the back of an antique shop in the French Quarter.

And as many of the older members had died off, they found no need to try to find replacements. This particular variety of threats to the general populations, such as aberrant magical communities, had largely died off or perhaps just evolved into an underground, nearly unrecognizable state.

Many had become not as organized, but more self-serving and rogue covens, based on, admittedly, self-gratification.

“What does that mean, self-gratification?”

“The witches of old, many were a benefit to the community. They used their talents and gifts to help people, to bolster energy to protect. But sometimes, these modern ones, who have only half-learned from books, with partial information and flawed training, are in it for themselves. They consciously or not align themselves with low ones to get as much out of it as they can, using people like parasites.”

He had frowned. He remembered that. “All?”

“No, not all, a faction.”

“How does anyone combat that?”

“How? First learn their ways, then use it against them.”

*

She’d taken out cash as she traveled, renting, trying to leave as little of a paper trail as possible. But were they following the paper trail?

Madison hadn’t actually seen anyone, not even in her dreams. Since Jayelle’s mental collapse, they’d returned. So odd, ever since she was a child, she would dream —not prophetic exactly — but largely dreams of information, guiding her and letting her see clearly the things she needed to know.

Somehow, though in all the hubbub and excitement of the new coven, she barely noticed how they’d slipped away. And with their absence, things she needed to know became opaque, unclear, and muddied.

Jayelle—the name whispered in her mind. She was a gray figure to her now, shrouded, but she would still feel her presence from time to time. There were things, suspected, ephemeral things that she could not allow herself to contemplate now.

It was February, offseason in the Village, so the room she took over the marina store was at a lesser rate, which was good for her.

Because the hard truth was she was running out of funds.

*

“Maybe we could arrange a meeting.”

“A meeting?”

“With the ones tracking you all.”

It had been the night before she’d gone on the run. She was in her mother’s kitchen, her Aunt Delphine eying her dubiously while her mother spoke.

“I don’t know if they can be reasoned with,” she answered quietly.

“Then maybe just submit, what happened to Jayelle, it happened because she resisted.”

“So, you want me to allow them to strip me of my gifts?”

Her mother spoke with grave concern. “Jayelle’s coven tried to tamper with elemental energies when they should not have. My angel, that kind of meddling with natural forces comes with a price. The law of three.”

“And those men are men you feel have the right to exhort that price?”

Her aunt frowned. She had always known Delphine, now in her fifties, to be a hard woman, not so kind, not so empathetic as her younger sister, Edira. “Well, they seem to think they do,” she muttered.

“I will not allow them to take what is mine.”

“That kind of thinking got you into this mess,” Delphine snapped back. “Me, mine, not thinking of the whole, of what a black mark the covenant of Jayelle has become for all of us, just selfishness.” The word she nearly spat out like it was something distasteful in her mouth.

And then her mother, Edira, the healer, had looked at her with eyes brimming with fear and sadness. “Without your gifts, you can live a normal life, my child. And you would not end up like Jayelle.”

“But I’d be a shell,” she whispered. “Not myself.”

“When was the last time you were yourself, Madison?” Delphine asked with steel in her voice. “And not Jayelle’s puppet?”

She remembered her mother’s words, but Aunt Delphine’s pierced her soul. Selfishness, the word hung over her like a dark cloud. Early in the morning, she got in her car and had left before dawn broke. As she drove off, she saw her aunt watching her from the upstairs bedroom window, but with no expression and evidently no desire to stop her.

She left her cell phone and bought a TracFone. Because it was very important that no one be able to reach her.

*

“Are you sure this is best?” Jackson watched him with skepticism in his dark eyes, skepticism he understood well.

“Yes,” he responded, zipping up his suitcase. “This one is different, I believe.”

A studied eyebrow rose. “Are you certain? If you have miscalculated, there will be no one to back you up. The kid and I are headed out West.”

Lucas softly patted Jackson on the arm. The stress and anxiety actively permeated from him. This whole business was proving too much for the three of them. What they needed was a break and some new recruits. “I’m certain, my friend. I have seen it.”

There was something in Jackson’s expression at that pronouncement. The two had worked together long enough for him to respect what Lucas had said. “Very well, God’s speed, Brother.”

“And to you as well, my Brother.”

And three days later, and more driving than he’d anticipated, he found himself inside the gates of a secluded community. A forested community spanning 26,000 acres, one that he couldn’t have managed to get inside without renting a property, even if it was only for a week.

If he couldn’t accomplish what he’d come to do in a week, then he did not deserve the title of master of the order of La Lumiere, even if its active membership at present had only three.

He wondered dubiously how their senior members had allowed things to go dormant for so long. “We didn’t feel the need for recruitment. This manner of evil is archaic, largely snuffed out.”

But it wasn’t, not really, just curiously camouflaged, until it wasn’t.

The group the rogue coven had targeted was agitated to a state close to madness, inciting violence, and then the dark witches had drained their energy like wolves feeding on the carnage. If he didn’t know they were vampires, he would liken them to such. That has been the account. Most covens, even the shadier ones, acted with more restraint. This one hadn’t. It had been sloppy, driven by gluttony, and their own sense of entitlement. Essentially, acting with the belief that because they could do it, they should.

That incident in the French Quarter was the red flag that had brought this order out of dormancy. Three deaths, many injured, and the spiritual toll was indeed enormous. And here he was in his small, cozy vacation home nestled by a lake and within a forest, getting ready to take on one of the perpetrators — Madison Angleterre, who believed she was smarter than him.

*

It was foggy, and he was dressed in black. Appropriate, she supposed. His hair was long, dark, just brushing past the collar of his coal-colored trench coat. He was slim, his skin pale, not very tanned at all.

She saw him walking slowly through the woods, leaves crunching beneath, yes, black tennis shoes it seemed. Everything was black, even his cargo pants, which she assumed were because of the pockets that were that dusky coal color. Was it symbolic or deliberate?

And then he stopped and closed his eyes as though focusing. “I see,” the man murmured as if to himself. “Not a meditation, a dream then.”

Somewhere, wherever she was, she drew in a sharp breath. He was cognizant.

“You can call me Lucas,” he spoke softly, deliberately. “It’s not really fair, Madison, that you can see me, but I can’t see you.”

His words swept around her, feeling as though there was a power accompanying them here. And as it was, she felt the moistness of the forest touching her skin. She looked down. She wore the scarlet red ceremonial cloak that Jayelle had insisted they all dress in during ritualistic gatherings. After she broke from the coven, she’d burned it, but here it was covering her again with only a white slip beneath.

“Symbolic,” he murmured. She looked up. He stood only yards away, leaning against a tree with mist and heavy fog all around them, permeating the forest.

She thought to speak but wondered if she was in jeopardy here. “It’s alright. The fog protects you. I’ve just awakened myself in your dream.”

“You are here in this place?”

“Not far. Your energy has a unique signature, Madison. How long have you had these revelatory dreams?” He asked quite calmly.

“Always,” she answered, “but,” then she stopped. Was it truly wise to freely give out information to this man?

“But you wanted to say, not lately.”

“You’re reading me?”

“I am, Madison.” He straightened up and began to slowly move closer to her. “Why does your subconscious cling to relics from Jayelle’s coven?” He lightly tapped the outside of the red cloak.

“I-I’m not sure.”

She noticed he had light eyes, piercingly blue, that watched as though he were scrutinizing her. “I can still feel her energy influencing you.”

She took a step backward but then hit the trunk of a broad tree behind her. “That’s not possible. Her mind has been destroyed.”

“Has it?” he whispered because he was directly in front of her now. “I always thought that was a bit easy.” It was so odd how close he was, the witch hunter, his body nearly but not quite pressing her up against the tree. His finger grazed her cheek. “I think perhaps she only abandoned the shell.”

“Abandoned? What does that mean?” She whispered anxiously, because she could feel his very breath against her skin.

And then ever so lightly he brushed his lips against hers. She was so cold. She didn’t push him away, didn’t feel repulsed, but instead succumbed to the warmth. And then he pulled back, looking at her oddly. “I still feel her tangled up in your mind, Madison. What has she done to you?”

*

Madison sat up in her bed, her breathing panicked. She picked up the cell phone on the nightstand. It was 3:00 AM.

She glanced around the shadowy bedroom. Dim, scattered light splattered across the rustic wooden floor. She was alone, but the dream still remained with her, as did the sensation and desire elicited with that kiss.

*

“I’m not sure what you’re telling me,” Jackson’s voice seemed strained. Evidently, the road trip across several states with the youngster as a companion was beginning to wear on him. So odd, in truth, Clarence was just three years younger than him. But it didn’t feel that way in experience, disposition, and emotional control.

“I’ve had contact with Miss Angleterre. I was able to get close enough to ascertain that she’s been compromised by the dark witch.”

“By Jayelle Simone? But surely all bonds were broken once I performed the binding ceremony, and she was,” he hesitated. Clearly, he found it distasteful. “When she was ostensibly destroyed.”

“Yes, on the surface it appears so. All I’m saying is approach with caution. Make sure they are separate, and before you separate them from their powers, be very sure they aren’t being used by a very clever witch who may have puzzled out how to escape her fate.”

*

Her head ached from a restless night. She dreamed, and she’d seen her foe. But it all felt so confused. She could see him in her mind, tall, slim, with dark hair, dressed in black. But where?

Where exactly had she seen him? It was very confusing, giving her a panicked impulse to flee. But she was still convinced it was best to wait, at least for a little while, until things became clearer.

It was a cool February morning, very cold, with temperatures just in the low 30s. So, to clear her head, she bundled up to take a walk on a foggy beach.

*

“Why did you target these people?” Her mother’s dark eyes were solemn, not judgmental, but also not in the least comforting.

“They’re practitioners, dark practitioners,” she’d stated without hesitation.

And she was so emphatic because she’d seen the evidence they’d uncovered often enough in her mind, in vivid, concrete memory.

There was uncertainty on Edira’s face. “Are you certain, Made?” That was her mother’s nickname for her.

“Yes, of course,” she murmured, not allowing any hint of uncertainty to pierce her reply.

*

As she silently walked the sandy shoreline of the lake near the marina where she’d rented her upstairs apartment, her mind settled for a moment.

“Don’t forget the snow moon,” she remembered Jayelle’s words. “Its energy is powerful. Some say transforming,” she’d said lightly.

Madison couldn’t remember a full moon that the coven hadn’t celebrated, always outside with ceremonies.

Some, admittedly, she found disturbing, definitely Pagan in flavor, with small sacrifices, cuttings on their arms, and ceremonies — always ceremonies to take advantage of the profound energy of the lunar event.

“Wherever you are, Madison, remember the snow moon.”

She squirmed and pulled her short woolen coat more tightly about her and her tan slouch hat down around her ears. It was a bit too cold for such a walk, but she was beginning to climb the walls. Maybe she should move on. She’d been here nearly a week, and something about the place was starting to get under her skin and not in a pleasant way.

It was picturesque enough, but something near, just beneath the surface, was steadily beginning to chafe her. Positioned on the sandy beach were picnic tables and umbrellas, no doubt occupied during warmer weather but now desolate and abandoned, only mimicking what she was feeling inside. If she walked to the far end of the lake, she’d find a walking trail into the forest. This was something she discovered only several days earlier, but she was feeling too moody just now to explore it.

As she made the curve toward more picnic tables, she noticed that, surprisingly, one of them was occupied. A chilling breeze rose for a moment, and her vision blurred, then cleared again.

She stopped, wondering if she should turn back. The figure just sat beneath one of those huge umbrellas. From what she could see, it was an elderly woman bundled up and staring forward toward the lake.

She glanced at the parking lot on the other side. There was a lone car parked there, a white sedan.

She could easily retreat. She was some yards away from the figure, and if she walked past her, she could do so with no interaction.

The wind blew and chapped her face. She should decide quickly. She couldn’t stay out here much longer.

She took in a deep breath. She needed some exercise. Down to the trail, then back to the marina store and to her apartment upstairs. Maybe tomorrow she’d make arrangements to leave. Maybe then, she repeated to herself reassuringly. So having decided, she bent her head, intent on passing by without engaging the old woman. Quickening her pace, Madison marched forward.

Everything would be alright, period, time would take care of everything, and these hunters would lose interest.

She purposefully didn’t look forward or to the side as she walked by, just down. But as soon as she passed the figure, she felt a strange sense of relief that passed through her. Something, something was off. She slowed her pace slightly and then suddenly felt the oddest thing, like a tap on her back.

More than surprised, she stopped her trudge through the cold sandy beach and turned to look behind her.

An old, scraggly, wrinkled face met hers. But with strange eyes of the purest blue.

“What?” she began, but speech stuck in her throat as a bony hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

Madison yanked away, but the grip was like iron. And then she looked up again, as that old face literally melted away and was replaced by a familiar one, one she’d seen in a dream.

“Nooo,” she screeched, struggling against his unforgiving grip, but then he pulled her harshly forward, covering her mouth and nose with a towel.

So strong was the medicinal smell that she felt herself too quickly dropping into a drugged state of unconsciousness.

*

She seemed young to him and when he touched her, touched her actual skin, he didn’t feel what he’d expected to.

One that readily embraces evil has a corruption to their energy, almost like a cancer that has infected the body. Unchecked and well-fed, corruption grows and spreads, engulfing healthy flesh, or in this case, the healthy spirit.

But what he felt from Madison Angleterre was different. He could feel degradation within her as manifestations of extreme stress, like a pure piece of paper singed on its edges by contact with a flame but still intact.

In short, he suspected she’d been duped and was foolish, very foolish.

*

She fidgeted uncomfortably in the upholstered armchair he’d deposited her in. There was no doubt it would be uncomfortable, but there was no other choice. He needed some answers, and she would give them to him.

Slowly, she shifted in her sleep, then suddenly straightened up, opening a pair of wide brown eyes that he had to admit he found captivating. Porcelain-like skin, delicate features, and shoulder-length thick brown hair. She could have stepped out of a 19^th century painting.

Focusing on him standing across the room and then down at her wrists that he’d tied down to the wooden arms of the chair, those already quite large eyes seemed to get larger. “You know this is kidnapping. You can’t just do this without ramifications,” she said softly.

He frowned. “Everything has ramifications, Madison. As does the attack in the French Quarter by your coven.”

She took in another deep breath. He could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest. And more than that, he could feel it, feel much fear emanating from her.

“They were dark practitioners.”

That took a moment to soak in. He opened to her now while still maintaining his guard. In truth, he still had no idea how dangerous she could be.

Her mind was clouded, tangled in its memories. Ah, yes, now he could see. Some true, some planted, truly she’d been tampered with.

“They were not.”

Again, the dark eyes stared back at him, but with incredulity. “You lie. I saw the evidence with my eyes. Jayelle—” Then she stopped, suddenly seeming to be wary of giving him too much information.

Abruptly, he grabbed a straight chair from the small kitchen table and placed it directly in front of her.

“Madison, I know this is difficult to believe, but I am trying to help you.”

At that, her face hardened. “Is that why you drugged me and kidnapped me? Is that why you destroyed Jayelle’s mind?”

“That was not me, but Jayelle is not like you.”

“Let me go.”

“Tell me the truth, and I’ll consider it.”

She looked down, fidgeting in the chair. “Who are you?”

“My name is Lucas Allard, and I am a warlock.”

*

Her mind swirled with a strange, disconnected reality. She should be afraid, terrified really, but instead she was floating on a distracted sea of acceptance, comfort, though that sounded markedly bizarre in her own ears.

Her arms were tied down, and she’d been kidnapped by a stranger intent on divesting her of her magical gifts. And she felt strangely comforted? As though she could relax and draw a quiet breath for the first time, and then she sighed, closing her eyes. Could it possibly be?

“What spell is this?” She asked, unable not to succumb.

“I wanted you to feel comfortable.”

Madison drew another calming breath. “Then it’s all false. There is no safety here.”

“There is,” the man who called himself Lucas Allard replied softly. “I mean you no harm, and the enchantment is rudimentary. You take of it what your soul craves.”

She smiled deliberately, opening her eyes. “Why don’t you get it over with, Lucas? You’re here to divest me of my powers, and at present, there doesn’t seem to be much I can do about it.”

He frowned, looking at her oddly, but then again, what wasn’t odd about this situation?

“You’ve been unhappy for a long time, Madison.”

She looked at him with bewilderment. “I expected more from a witch hunter.”

And then something like curiosity flickered in his eyes. “Is that what you believe I am, a witch hunter?”

She squirmed a bit, and a pain shot up her back in discomfort. “You’re hunting witches.”

“I studied with witches and warlocks.”

“To what end?” she said, her back disrupting that peaceful feeling that had taken hold of her previously.

“Do you want a pillow behind your back, Madison? It’s not my intent to have you in discomfort.”

She wriggled again, muttering. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have tied me down to a chair.”

Rather fluidly, he was on his feet, grabbing a dark blue couch pillow, then lightly putting his hand on her shoulder. “Lean forward,” he murmured.

It took a moment for his words to sink in, so dizzying was the energy she felt flowing through his touch. Slightly, she leaned forward and felt him rather gingerly push the pillow down behind her back. “That should help,” he whispered, rather close to her.

“What do you want?” She couldn’t help but ask but also noted that he hadn’t removed his hand. The contact felt warming, fluid, as though some tangible intoxicant was slowly spreading throughout her body.

“I want to understand, Madison. When I touch you, it feels profoundly as though your spirit is in great pain. Whether you recognize it or not, you’ve been deceived and used.”

“I don’t—” It was hard to articulate. She was feeling so disconnected from herself, and the hand on her shoulder tightened. “I don’t understand. What are you doing to me?”

“Trying to help. Serious bonds have been placed on you that are continuing to drain you.”

“Bonds?”

“Yes, damaging energy bonds that have been placed deep and are compromising you. I need you to relax and feel peaceful because I’m going to attempt to remove them now.”

Her head was spinning, and her vision blurred over as she found herself back home again, in her childhood bed. So soft, so inviting.

Distantly, she heard his voice still speaking to her and felt the pressure of his palms on her shoulders. But it was different somehow; they were on her bare shoulders.

He had unbuttoned her sweater and pushed it down.

“Relax now, Madison, and feel peace.” She heard him. Then on the heels of that, she felt the palms of his hand warm, and then grow hot like fire scorching her, then actually melting through her skin and reaching inside.

She was still in her soft, comforting bed in her mother’s house, safe and protected. But also, distantly, she could hear someone screaming.

*

With shaking hands, he wrapped the blanket around her bare shoulders. He was dizzy, more than that, he felt sick.

There was a bucket beside them that he had placed the red coiling serpents inside, which he had ripped from inside Madison’s body. Deeply exhausted, Madison had slumped forward, unconscious. He had no idea what state, mentally or physically, she would be in when she awoke.

Once he had uncoiled the bonds from her chakra systems, they manifested in the physical world as some kind of mutated snakes. He drowned them in the bucket, sealing them in with a containment spell. They would need to be destroyed once he had the strength.

He lightly touched the side of her face with his hand. Her breathing was shallow, but she was still within the protective bubble he had placed her in.

Slowly, he began to untie her arms and heaved her into his embrace. His arms went under her legs as he scooped her up. She’d sleep for a while, and then they’d talk.

*

Madison awoke in her childhood bedroom, the light creeping through the translucent sheers behind her rose-colored drapes. Her eyes fluttered open, and she breathed in a delicate scent of violets that seemed to accompany her mother, Edira, whenever she was around. And indeed, she was sitting beside her bed in a small wooden chair she’d pulled up beside it.

“What are you doing here?” She murmured groggily, a heavy sort of drugged feeling still clung to her, and her mind seemed utterly incapable of separating what was actual and what was being dreamed. Everything was such a muddle.

Edira softly took her hand in hers and brought it to her lips to kiss lightly. Madison felt the surge of energy flow from her mother into her, stimulating her memory. She wasn’t here, wasn’t in her Memphis home. She was with that man, the one interrogating her, and then she remembered great rushes of pain, nearly unbearable pain.

“No,” her mother had her hand clasped in both of her own now. “You must be calm, my girl.”

She straightened up, her mind still spinning. “What did he do to me? Did he rip my power away?”

“No, he did not, Madison. He broke the bonds Jayelle had placed on you.”

“What?” She whispered in a rasp. “Jayelle didn’t—”

“Of course she did, Madison. Every time she performed a ritual with you, every ceremony, every time she put marks on you, every time your heart area was exposed in front of her, she created bonds, bonds to control you with, bonds to drain your energy.”

“We were sisters.”

Her mother’s usually soft demeanor seemed to harden beneath her gaze. “Sisters don’t use each other, don’t implant false memories to manipulate.”

She could feel panic setting in at her words. “I don’t believe you. There are no false memories.”

And then the grasp on her hands seemed to even tighten further if that was possible. “Have I ever lied to you, my child? Your mind has been filled with lies. Memories planted so that you would do what she wants. And be ready when she needs you .”

“Ready? What does that mean?”

“The snow moon, Madison. In only two days. It has always been her plan.”

Her head throbbed with confusion. “I can’t see, Mom. This man has done something to create all of this.”

“No, Madison, he’s trying to help you.”

“Help? Why, why would he want to help me?” And then Edira looked at her squarely and with quiet determination and unfailing strength. “Because I asked him to.”

*

Her eyes snapped open. Immediately, she knew the room was alien. Above her, a ceiling fan slowly turned, and beside her, still asleep on the double bed, was Lucas Allard, the man in question.

She looked around furtively. The door on the far side of the room, another door unopened, probably a bathroom, some maple-colored furniture, a dresser, an end table, and a rocking chair in the corner near a large window covered with mini blinds.

Gently, she made the move to sit up but found that every inch of her was aching with pain. Her skin felt chafed, and her bones hurt as though she had a fever.

With difficulty, she swung one foot off the bed onto the floor, then the other, again feeling the dizziness wash over her as she moved.

“You might want to rest before you try that.” The voice behind her startled her so that she attempted to quickly come to her feet. Then, suddenly, strong and deliberate hands caught her shoulders in his grip. “You’ve lost a lot of energy, Madison. You are too vulnerable to leave here yet.”

She took a breath, feeling her body tremble. “Let me go. Haven’t you done enough?”

And then she heard him sigh, “I truly wish that was the case.”

*

“Are you hungry? I have some cans of soup here.”

“Where are we?” She asked abruptly in a tone he couldn’t help but interpret as slightly hostile.

He glanced at the cold fireplace across the den. Luckily, he picked up some wood and other groceries before, well, before he had intercepted Madison. “In the Village.”

She was sitting at the table, staring at him stony-faced. He hadn’t bothered to bind her again. In fact, he’d only done that for the operation of removing the energy bonds that Jayelle had entrenched inside her. Though he knew very well he had only been marginally successful. He’d broken the obvious ones and, in fact, had incinerated them out back not very long ago. His throat still felt singed and scraped by the acid smell from the disintegrating serpents.

As he’d been doing just that, he had looked up to find her watching him with no expression through the sliding glass door. However strong these energy bonds had once affected her, she now seemed untouched as he disposed of them.

The problem was now the bonds that were less accessible. The psychological ones, the dark witch had spent years erecting in her unwitting disciple.

“You really should eat something.”

She turned her gaze away from him, staring off. “I’m not hungry. Did you really—” then she stopped.

“Ask me whatever you want, Madison.”

“My mother, I saw her. She said she’d asked for your help.”

He nodded slowly. “It was actually my uncle she first contacted. He was once an active part of our order.”

“What order?” she said sharply. Her eyes look so wide and dark in that finely boned face. He had to admit she was quite beautiful, delicate in some ways. But that he suspected was deceptive because he could feel her mind even now reaching out to his, foraging for answers, for the truth. But he didn’t trust, not yet, that something else or someone else wasn’t eavesdropping through her.

He stared at her, wondering how much to disclose, but deciding for the moment that less might be more.

“Tomato or chicken noodle? Being upset with me takes a lot of energy, Madison, which at present you are lacking.”

“Tomato,” she said softly.

“Iced tea or water?”

“Why? Why would she approach your uncle?”

“She was worried, he said softly. “She sensed Jayelle’s intentions were impure.”

*

“Looks like they’re programming someone who has been in the cult.”

“A cult?”

“Well, a dark coven is rather a cult. A traditional cult also utilizes energy and sometimes dark magic to influence its members. Once clear thought is compromised, people can be manipulated into almost anything.”

“So how does one begin to break such a hold?”

“First the cracks.”

“The cracks?”

“There are always cracks. The stronger the mind of the one in question, the larger they are.”

Lucas remembered in that moment staring at his uncle and feeling in his heart how deadly serious he was. However, as it was, he was only sixteen at the time and would not put his advice into practical use for some time later.

*

It was true. Madison hurt everywhere, and she was cognizant enough to know that it was a result of the ceremony that Lucas Allard had performed on her.

“Don’t fight it.” He murmured, almost as though he’d been reading her thoughts. “The energy bonds that have been draining you for some time are removed, but you’ve grown used to them. Your body, your spirit, needs time to adjust to the change.”

“Am I supposed to thank you?” She said hastily, taking another bite of the soup that was actually reviving her a bit.

Lucas glanced up from across the round kitchen table that was situated in front of the sliding glass door. “Evidently not,” he said flatly, then continued to eat his own soup.

“How long are you planning on keeping me here?”

And then he glanced up again, looking her squarely in the eyes. “Until after the moon, the full moon.”

“The snow moon?” She murmured, remembering her mother mentioning it and then something else, something else she’d forgotten about it.

“Yes, once it passes, I believe you will have turned a corner.”

“Jayelle is gone, essentially anyway.”

“Essentially, as you say. But you’re very weak, and there still is work to be done.”

*

She had no idea what time it was. There was a clock on the wall, but oddly, it wasn’t moving. She had spied one on the microwave as well, but she knew it wasn’t right, reflecting 2:00 PM in the afternoon. Yet, she knew that couldn’t be true because night had fallen outside.

Madison had decided somewhere along the way that silence was the answer. She had sat down on the well-stuffed, rust-colored sofa, grabbed one of its pillows, and watched him in stony silence.

This had been their afternoon together. Once or twice, she received an unreadable glance, but then he returned to busy work, coming and going from the room.

And she watched the door. There was one door she spied, other than the sliding glass doors, just to the side of the kitchen.

The floor plan was quite open, definitely in the style of a vacation home. The dining room and the kitchen were only separated by a peninsula, all flowing together. So, unless he took the stairwell downstairs to the bedrooms, he could always see her. She assumed there were multiple bedrooms, though she had only seen the one.

The only room on this floor that really afforded privacy, which Madison had checked out early on, was the bathroom. But there wasn’t even an outside window within, so it was of little use.

She considered getting outside and running for help. She knew very well it was a gamble.

Some houses were quite isolated here, and even if she managed to reach another, there was no guarantee it would be occupied. All in all, it was a gamble, but something inside her was pushing her to try, to get out of his clutches, his influence, for a little while.

As she was contemplating her escape, Madison felt herself getting more and more drowsy and couldn’t help but close her eyes for a few moments, just a few. Perhaps it wasn’t wise, but in truth, it couldn’t be helped.

*

A particular aroma permeated everything, a mix of smoke, ashes, and candles, and the scent unmistakably of coconut.

Gradually, she opened her eyes.

She was on a couch, but not in the den she remembered. Before her was a roaring fireplace and a cozy feeling that the stark room of the vacation house did not possess.

Slowly, with discrimination, Madison sat up. Lucas was seated across from her in a rocking chair, and before her, a white candle was set on a pristine white cloth, surrounded by ashes, and a goblet of water.

She breathed in deeply, feeling and actually smelling the fact that there was magic in the air. “This is a protection spell. My mother used to use these often,” she murmured.

“Yes, mine as well. I was raised in a coven of witches, as were you.”

She continued to breathe in deeply. There was pure cleansing to such a spell, soothing to the senses. Never had she experienced a spell or sensation like this in Jayelle’s coven.

“There is a reason for that, Madison.”

She looked at him, suddenly understanding. “You’re reading my thoughts.”

He leaned back in the rocker, seeming content with where he was at present.

“Yes, I have been for some time. Of course, it’s easier here.”

She looked away, “Then you know.”

“Of your escape plan? Of course, but I wouldn’t need to read your mind to pick up on that. Just to save you some wasted energy, we are quite isolated here. It would be very difficult to achieve your goals, or should I rather say hers.”

She looked back at him with some confusion. “Hers?”

He nodded slowly. He seemed to be studying her somehow. “Yes,” he said softly. “She can’t affect you here as she can when you are in the physical.”

“Here? Where are we?”

“My house, I have one in Natchitoches. Be still for a moment, Madison.”

She frowned, taken aback by the firmness in his tone. “There is something, something physical she has bound you with.” Breathing deeply, she felt the dizziness overwhelm her again. “What has she placed on you?”

“Placed? I don’t know what—”

“It has to be permanent, an alteration of some kind.” Then suddenly he was on his feet, approaching her, standing in front of her.

“Get up,” he said quietly.

And she did so, almost feeling as though there was no choice. “I don’t know—” he suddenly placed two fingers in front of her lips.

“Ssshh,” he replied with determination. “Madison, there is something physical tethering you to Jayelle. Something that she is still using.”

“She can’t,” she muttered, feeling a strange horror filling her. “She’s gone.”

“No, I’m afraid she’s not. And she’s looking for a body, a body she can house her disconnected spirit in.”

Her eyes widened in dread at his pronouncement. “The snow moon,” she’d always said. “It has the power of transformation.”

“I feel as if she has put something on you. A cut would heal. It would have to be more permanent.”

She drew her breath in with a gasp. They were all laughing. It was more like a party with food and wine. Jovially, Jayelle had taken it out of her pocket — small circles, two overlapping circles.

“We’ll be sisters,” as she heated its metal with the flame of a black candle.

“It has to be on the torso, nearer the heart to bind fully,” he murmured.

She looked up into his piercing eyes shakily. “I’m not sure.”

“Show me,” he compelled her almost hypnotically.

With shaking fingers, she unbuttoned her sweater, then lowered it, turning around. She felt his fingertips brush the small brand on her lower back. “I see. This was hidden from me,” he said, almost to himself.

“It’s permanent.”

“Well, nothing is permanent. We’ll just have to adapt it to our benefit.”

*

When Madison’s eyes opened, the night had fallen outside. Lucas was in front of the fireplace, stoking a fire that had not been there when she’d fallen asleep.

She sat up as the intensity of her dream rushed back into her mind. “Lucas,” she said impulsively as he straightened, then slowly turned around to face her. There was a panic in her chest, and it burned. The small brand on her back had become inflamed.

“Is it—” He held up a single finger in front of his lips to silence her.

“Eyes,” he murmured, and she looked around in panic.

Slowly, he moved to her, extending his hand. Disorientation was flooding through her mind as though she simply couldn’t think at all. She took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet, yanking her into an unexpected embrace in his arms.

“Follow my lead,” she heard him distantly in her mind, and then suddenly he held her close and was kissing her. Instinctively, she tried to pull away, but his arms were like steel. Again, in her mind, “Follow along, Madison. Trust me.”

So, she decided, and she let go, allowing and returning his passionate kisses.

He pushed her back to the sofa until they were both sitting. Then he was kissing her more, but on her neck, his hands going up under her sweater until he was brushing her bare flesh.

So odd, it felt languorous as though energy was flowing everywhere he touched and within her, stemming the fear and panic like an anesthesia.

Then, suddenly, he pulled her sweater directly over her head. She felt the chill surround her, but didn’t mind as his mouth was on her flesh and his hands running along her back.

And then he kissed her once more, then spun her around unexpectedly so that her back was to him. Without warning, she felt it —something hot, so hot, connecting with her skin, then burning her right atop the tiny brand.

It startled her, and she cried out, not exactly in pain, because it didn’t hurt as one might expect. But a great wash of pain did pass through her, on the inside, as though within some cord had painfully snapped.

“Easy,” he whispered to her, holding her still tightly with one hand. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “That will leave a scar.”

She was breathing heavily in his arms that were wrapped around her tightly, still pulling her against him. “It’s broken, Madison. She has nothing left to anchor you with.”

*

It stung. She showered off with the coldest water she could stand.

“It will help your energy,” he told her, which, given the temperature outside, in the lower twenties, was quite a hardship.

“I don’t understand.”

“It was a brand of sorts, small but not insignificant. I imagine she did the same to the others.”

She struggled to remember. Everything in her mind felt like an odd shamble of images. “I-I can’t be sure. Something’s happened to my mind.”

He was softly dabbing the spot on her back with a warm towel. “Don’t fight it. It seems Jayelle has quite the gift for suggestion.”

She looked at him oddly. “Suggestion? What does that even mean?”

“Placing of false memories. She would use her energy to plant strong suggestions in your mind when you were particularly vulnerable, and a false memory would be forged and reinforced with your belief in it. It can be quite damaging.”

She took a quick breath, still feeling such waves of confusion. She was holding her sweater up in front of her as he ministered to the fresh wound that he had ostensibly created to diminish the effect of an old one.

“How did you do this?” Odd that Madison hadn’t thought to ask before, but then again, maybe she didn’t really want to know.

He stopped attending to her new wound, softly commenting. “I could bandage this, but I think it’s best to leave it uncovered for now.” And then he paused for a moment, adding, “My ring has an alchemical symbol on it. I heated it near a flame, then used it to alter the symbol on your back.”

“Why didn’t it burn your hand?”

“I used my energy to contain the heat as well as contain its impact on you.” He flexed his hand a bit. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t entirely successful.” Then he glanced at her, “You should shower. Try not to let the water directly hit the burn and keep the temperature as cool as you can.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m pretty tired.”

“It’s important. It will help clear some of the bad energy you still have clinging to you.”

*

He’d given her a gray sweatshirt with a picture of a snowy colored wolf on the front. Of course, all her clothes were still at the apartment near the marina.

As she pulled it on, then her jeans, she was comforted by the fact that it felt warm and freshly laundered. Her mind still felt in a tumult as though everything that she’d once known as real and concrete had somehow been stripped away from her.

A shakiness passed through her as she found a hair dryer on the cabinet and began to dry her wet hair. Her brush was in her purse, so she used her fingers to try to detangle her thick, shoulder-length, black hair. As she smudged the foggy mirror, she suddenly froze.

The figure stood behind her — red hair and brandy-colored eyes staring back accusingly at her.

“How could you do this, sister? Aid this defiler?”

She swung around sharply, finding in truth that she was alone in the room. But it didn’t feel that way. Moments before, she was certain Jayelle had indeed been standing right behind to her.

*

It was panic, raw fear racing through her as she literally ran up the stairs to intercept Lucas in the kitchen, where he was evidently surveying dinner possibilities.

“She was here,” Madison spat out uncontrollably. Immediately, he put his hands on her arms.

“Calm down,” he said, entirely too passively.

“Did you hear me? I saw her here.”

He was reacting oddly, breathing deeply while staring at her intently. Then, slowly, he closed his eyes as if focusing. “You’ve lost energy from this. It’s essential you be calm.”

She could feel it, overwhelming panic still pounding through her. “But how did she get here? What is she?”

His eyes opened, and he focused on her calmly. “Disembodied entity now, looking for a place to set up shop.”

“You mean me?”

“Yes, that seems as though it might have always been the goal. She’d worn out her own shell with her dark magics. So, she wants a new one. But we’ve already taken great strides in preventing that from happening. We just have to wait her out for a few more days, Madison.”

“How can we do that?” Her voice was shaking. She could hear it as she spoke. How could someone she had recently viewed as a sister have become a threat to her so quickly?

“Don’t try to puzzle everything out. Just anchor yourself to this moment.”

“How exactly do we do that?”

And then his mouth quirked peculiarly, in an almost whimsical way she didn’t remember seeing before. “Well, maybe we order a pizza. I’m famished, and it’s difficult to strategize on an empty stomach.”

“Pizza?” She repeated, feeling completely confused.

“Don’t you like pizza?”

“Sure, why not?”

*

He watched her carefully, though he did try to appear as if he wasn’t doing so. “This isn’t who she is. Something has taken hold of her.”

Edira Angleterre had looked at him with eyes that reminded him so much of Madison’s, exuding a palpable fear for her daughter.

“I’m not sure what I can do now. Madison has the right to join any coven she wishes and follow whatever path she chooses. Free will is sacred, as you know, Mrs. Angleterre. Unless, of course, they cross a line and do harm to innocents.”

They were in his uncle’s den. It was a small wood-frame house in New Orleans, right next to City Park. His Uncle Samuel had introduced him to Madison’s mother, then had made himself scarce as they talked.

“I see,” she said shakily. “But if that happens and this creature drags Madison with her into such damning territory, what happens to my daughter?”

He took in a deep breath. “Well, let’s hope she doesn’t.”

*

He noticed she wasn’t eating much, and though granted, it wasn’t the most wonderful takeout pizza in the world, it was consumable.

“Not any good?” He asked, and her dark eyes returned to him from a place faraway and not a pleasant place from the look on her face.

“I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin. Do you have any wine or something like that here?”

“You shouldn’t consume alcohol tonight. There could be ceremonies later.”

She looked at him with confusion. “We would always drink in the coven when there were spells or ceremonies. Jayelle made it seem like a party.”

He nodded slowly, getting a clearer picture of how things were conducted. “Yes, well, that made you vulnerable to her. No doubt she used your incapacitated senses to control and possibly drain you.”

“Drain me?”

“Of energy, Madison. It’s clear she’s taken much from you.” Eat, you’re going to need your strength. No doubt it will be a difficult night.”

She looked at him with fear in her eyes, and it disturbed him greatly. What a difficult thing when the foundation of your belief system is being torn away.

It is a painful process, particularly when that foundation is built on falsehood. He reached out a hand and put it on her arm. She did look surprised. “I am committed to helping you, Madison. You’ve already made great strides.”

“It seems,” she said hesitantly, “that I’ve been a fool in all of this.” He could tell that this was a difficult admission for her.

“You’ve been used and taken advantage of. Now it’s time to regain control of your life.”

“How do we do that?” It was barely a whisper.

“Why, fight with everything we have.”

*

He wasn’t certain this would work, nor was he certain he could save Madison Angleterre. He wasn’t even sure she was committed to being saved.

But all he knew was that he was committed to trying. He could feel her eyes on him, watching intently as they rearranged the furniture in the den, clearing a large space in the middle of the room.

“Why are you sure she’ll come tonight?” she asked softly. There was a slight tremble in her voice that Lucas knew was fear.

“I don’t, just a hunch.”

“But the Snow Moon is tomorrow.”

“Yes, but the energy begins tonight, and that’s what she needs, its energy.”

“You think she wants to possess me.”

“I do,” he said sharply, eying the space to see if it was adequate for his purposes.

And then she said something he did not expect. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry my stupidity dragged you into this.”

He stopped, looking at her pale face and large eyes, reminding him a bit of a lost child. “We all make mistakes, Madison. That is how we grow. We learn, then we help others to learn.”

“Is that what you’re doing?”

“I am keeping a promise I made to your mother. The learning part we’ll deal with once this is over.”

“So, you think we’ll pull through this?”

“I think we have a good chance,” he said a bit more cheerfully than he felt. “What we’ll do is give it our all. That is what I need from you. Can you do that?”

She nodded slowly, eying him with an expression he couldn’t help but find intriguing. “Yes, Lucas, I can promise you I will give this fight every ounce of strength I have.”

And with that, he smiled, feeling genuinely more optimistic about facing whatever was to come.

“What do we do first?”

“We build a protected circle and once we’re inside, we seal it and wait.”

She nodded, saying with determination, “All right. I’m ready.”

Copyright © 2024 by Evelyn Klebert

A Murder in the Village and Other Mystical Tales of the Ouachita Mountains

At the foothills of the Ouachita Mountains, into their ancient heart, and even perhaps into nearby unexplored dimensions, slip into a series of supernatural short stories.

A clash of shapeshifters on sacred grounds, a compromised witch desperately fleeing a witch hunter, and a ghost in search of his murderer are only a few of the tales that dot this paranormal landscape.

Take a mystical diversion that could very well land you in a realm, at the least unexpected and at the most horrifying. But what is clear is that no one, ever, will emerge as they were before.