Chapter 1
“Someone’s going to kill that woman,” Ruby McLaughlin predicted.
“Maybe not kill her,” I corrected, “but I’d say there’s a fair chance of her getting walloped.”
Tomorrow, August 1st, the village of Whispering Pines would hold a day-long Lammas festival. Tonight, being Lammas Eve, the village coven gathered as it did every year for a private celebration of one of our eight sabbats or holidays. At least, that had been the plan.
Ruby leaned close to me. “You need to remind everyone that they can’t just bring people to our gatherings.”
“This is stupid,” Isobel O’Connor insisted. She was visiting family in the village, a practicing Wiccan, and the prime reason for the coven’s current level of discontent. “Don’t you understand how potentially destructive this could be?”
“Shut it, lady,” someone in the group groaned.
“Why are you even here?” someone else asked.
Ruby elbowed me. “You’re the high priestess. Do something.”
She was right. I was technically in charge of this gathering and needed to smooth things over before our religious celebration turned into a street brawl. I took a step forward. When I paused to think of what to say, Ruby gave me a shove, propelling me toward Isobel at the center of the Meditation Circle. All eyes turned to me.
The thin, dishwater-blond, thirty-something woman pointed toward the sky. “This is Lammas Eve, yes, but there’s also a new moon.”
“That’s not why we’re here,” I murmured in a soothing tone. For the third time. “We’re here to follow a long-standing tradition. This is the night when farmers would gather to celebrate the first grain harvest of the season that would happen the next day. Many farmers still honor this tradition.”
“We’re also honoring Lugh,” Ruby reminded everyone. “The god of craftsmanship.”
Being a craft witch, Lugh was Ruby’s favorite deity and Lammas her favorite sabbat.
Isobel shook her head. “The moon is black.”
“What is she talking about?” one of the coven members asked.
Did he really not know? A scan across the crowd showed confusion on their faces. Many of our members chose to skip this gathering because, even though it was Lammas Eve, there was a new moon.
“There is danger in tonight’s darkness,” Isobel warned.
Just when they, well, most of them had started to accept me as high priestess. “I apologize. I assumed everyone was aware of tonight’s coinciding astrological event. Most everyone is familiar with a full blue moon, which is a thirteenth full moon within a calendar year. Not as many recognize the thirteenth new one, which is called a black moon.”
Isobel scanned the crowd. “Drawing on the power of a new moon is dangerous.”
“We never do that,” the same man pointed out. “The coven never gathers for new moons.”
He looked at me, clearly waiting for an explanation.
“The coven chose long ago to only gather on full moon nights. There’s no reason we couldn’t do so during new moons, but some believe that the power of the unseen moon, especially a black moon, is too strong and no rituals should be held. They, like me, opt instead for quiet, individual contemplation. I meditate and journal about what I want to attract or increase in my life over the next twenty-nine-and-a-half days.”
“Then why are you all gathered tonight?” Isobel asked.
This woman was going to set me back months in the coven’s eyes. “We’re here to celebrate Lammas, not the moon. If you’re uncomfortable gathering beneath a black moon, I’ll understand if you want to leave. Again, I apologize to any of you who weren’t aware.”
“Isn’t that your job?” Isobel hissed.
“Reeva guides us,” Ruby cut in, defending me. “Wicca is a primarily solitary religion. We gather for the community but manage our own practices. It’s up to us to know what’s going on in the sky.”
I met my best friend’s eyes and mouthed thank you. Then I told the group, “If you choose to meditate or journal either now or later, I believe that the power of a black moon is a perfect opportunity to set longer-term intentions rather than only those for the next cycle.”
Morgan Barlow, the coven’s former high priestess, stepped forward. “Consider that tomorrow not only marks the midpoint between the summer solstice and fall equinox but also the approximate midpoint of the tourist season. For business owners, tonight’s black moon is a very good time to review plans and goals for these remaining few months.”
I caught her eye and smiled.
Isobel, however, was still amped up. “You can pretty this up all you want, but you said it yourself. The power of the unseen moon is too strong. And this one is black.”
Rourke O’Connor looked mortified by the repeated outbursts of his cousin’s new wife. “You’re obviously not comfortable here, Isobel. Why don’t you go back to the cottage?”
Isobel stared daggers at him and crossed her arms tightly in reply.
“Will she leave?” Ruby whispered in my ear like a voiceover before a commercial break. “Or will she stay and continue to cause chaos?”
I smiled, just a little, and bumped my shoulder against hers. Based on the rumors about Isobel that were spreading through the village, she was very good at stirring up trouble.
“Supposedly,” I whispered back, “she came because she’s upset her husband is here.”
“Why doesn’t she grab him and leave then?”
“Exactly. Is her fear real, or is this just a show?”
Before Isobel had crashed the Meditation Circle gates, so to speak, the robed coven members had been scattered around the fire pit. They sat on the various pine log benches and tree stump stools and had been enjoying traditional Lammas food. There would be much more food in the commons tomorrow, but tonight everyone enjoyed a late-night snack of bread, cake, grapes, apples, and other crops that symbolized the season’s harvest. A handful had left after the black moon announcement, but those who stayed had returned to their seats and conversations.
“Beware the black moon,” Isobel spoke up again when concern over her warning had died down.
She was only here to cause chaos. I should ask her to leave.
As I took a moment to figure out a way to quietly escort her out—of a public place—Caden O’Connor, her husband, took Isobel’s arm and guided her to the edge of the Meditation Circle. “Honey, let’s let them do their thing.”
A shiver skittered up my spine, but not because I was cold. In fact, the air was dead still and sticky-humid tonight. Unusual for this far north in Wisconsin. Instead, the tremor came from the look Isobel shot at her husband. Caden was about to get an earful.
I watched as he spoke quietly to her and ran his hand up and down her arm, calming her. She seemed to decompress a bit but kept glaring at me.
“This is my fault.” April O’Connor stood next to me. “I brought Caden tonight against Isobel’s wishes. We actually had to sneak out of the cottage.”
“Is he Wiccan?” I asked.
“He’s exploring. Isobel has practiced for years and tells Caden he needs a spiritual aspect in his life. One thing she and I agree about.”
By the way she said one thing, there must be plenty of things she didn’t agree with Isobel about.
“It’s great that you’re both encouraging his spiritual life, April, but remember our rule about bringing non-coven members to gatherings.”
April stared down at the ground. “Sorry. If it was just Caden, you wouldn’t even know he was here. I didn’t expect her to show up.”
I observed the newlyweds on the other side of the clearing. Isobel now appeared to be chewing Caden out while he still tried to comfort her with arm strokes.
“Why don’t we bring her home?” Rourke slid in next to his wife.
Yes, please. And I didn’t have to be the bad witch.
April agreed. “She’s just doing her Isobel stuff again.”
As if on cue, Isobel pushed Caden’s hand away. “Stop petting me!”
Some of the witches who’d chosen to sit and meditate or journal jumped at her outburst.
I told Rourke, “I think you’re right. She should leave now.”
“I’ll tell them,” April volunteered. But before doing so, she asked, “Do you happen to have room for three more in your Friday class?”
My regular four o’clock Friday baking class at my shop, Hearth & Cauldron. I envisioned the sign-up sheet hanging on the bulletin board near the shop’s front door. “Last I checked, there were only two spots left.”
April’s shoulders dropped. “Oh, bummer. Caden thought that would be something fun for the three of us to do.” She glanced up at her husband. “You’ll be at work then.”
“It’s possible someone won’t show up,” I offered. “Or two of you can bake and one can observe. Or the third person can bake when we do the second attempt at the recipe.”
Her eyes lit up. “That could work. Hold those spots, please. You’ve got my card on file. Go ahead and charge it.”
Caden was Rourke’s cousin, but he and April spent a lot of time talking and laughing together. Unable to quash my curiosity, I noted, “April and Caden seem close.”
“They are,” Rourke confirmed. “They grew up in the same neighborhood and have been best friends since they were little. My parents moved us to the States from Ireland when I was thirteen. Dad wanted to be close to his brother so chose a small town nearby. When it came time for high school, my middle school merged with theirs, and Caden introduced me and April.”
I gave a firm nod. “Got it.”
A hand on my back made me turn. Jozef Lykke was the coven’s newest official member and my . . . boyfriend? Is that what he was? We’d spent a lot of time together since he moved to the village three weeks ago. It seemed silly at fifty-eight years of age to say I had a boyfriend.
Manfriend?
“What are we talking about?” he asked.
“My houseguest,” Rourke informed with an eye roll.
“She’s,” Jozef began, “interesting.”
Rourke sighed. “Yeah. Imagine having her living in your home for ten days.”
The three of us watched as Caden put a hand on Isobel’s back as they turned to follow April. Isobel swatted at him in a clear don’t touch me gesture. At least she didn’t holler this time.
Rourke shook his head. “We joke that Isobel must have put a spell on him because she’s not his type. He’s a beer, burgers, and bikes kind of guy and always preferred women who didn’t mind getting dirty.”
“And she,” Jozef guessed, “is more cabernet, chocolates, and candles?”
“Close. Substitute Xanax for chocolate.”
The two of them laughed and then shrank like scolded schoolboys when they saw the look I was giving them.
April caught Rourke’s attention and pointed at the exit.
“Sorry again about the drama, Reeva,” he said.
Isobel glared at me as they walked past. Caden trailed after her like a baby duck. April gave an apologetic smile. As soon as they were gone, a sense of peace settled over the coven. It always amazed me how one person could change a group’s dynamic.
“Are you okay?” Jozef asked, taking my hand.
“Oh, I’m fine.” Just edging closer to exhaustion. I was ready to go home and fall into bed.
“I’m going to mingle.” He kissed my cheek and went to join a cluster of witches.
I followed his lead, made my rounds, and apologized for the Isobel fiasco.
“It’s not your fault, Reeva,” most of them said.
Twenty minutes later, the group had thinned to half, and more appeared ready to leave.
Ruby came up to me, notebook in hand. “Think I’m going to call it a night.”
“I agree.” I tilted my head side to side, trying to release some of the tension that had settled in my neck. “Did you journal?”
“I made notes for my Lammas table tomorrow. Speaking of which, I’m going to need Keiko.”
My roommate/non-rent-paying boarder, Keiko Shen, divided her workdays between Hearth & Cauldron and Ruby’s craft shop, The Twisty Skein.
“We really should come up with a set schedule for her,” I mused. “She told me she feels like a Ping-Pong ball, bouncing back and forth between the shops.”
“Where is she? I’ll tell her about tomorrow. Then I’m going home.” Ruby scanned the group and froze. “Oh. What’s going on over there?”
She spun me to see Keiko and The Inn’s assistant manager, Emery Ellison, sitting side by side. The two were deep in conversation. Emery said something that made Keiko throw her head back and laugh.
“Young love?” Ruby wondered.
“Hmm, I don’t see any flirting going on. Then again, the world of teens and twenty-somethings can change in a heartbeat, and I’ve only just re-entered their realm.”
A few minutes later, I announced it was time to close the gathering. “I’m so glad you all came tonight. I thought about asking that we do a blessing for Jozef’s new restaurant, but with the disruption . . .”
Jozef, stirring the last of the wood in the fire pit so it could burn out, looked surprised at my announcement. “I hope you’ll all come for the ribbon cutting in the morning.”
“We can gather a few minutes early and do the blessing there,” one of the witches suggested, and the others agreed.
“A much better idea,” I acknowledged and then asked Keiko if she was ready to leave.
She pointed south, toward the commons, and mumbled, “I’m gonna hang out with Emery for a while. See ya . . . whenever.”
Those were as many words as Keiko had spoken to me all night. She had barely even looked at me.
Once the two disappeared down the dirt road, Briar Barlow urged, “Go ahead, Reeva. Say whatever it is you’re dying to say.”
Like water from a fire hose, words gushed out of me. “When she moved in, I promised I wouldn’t act like her mother. Lately, however, if I leave her alone, she gets mad. If I ask too many questions, she gets mad. If I don’t offer her something to eat when I’m cooking, she gets mad. If I do offer, she’s not hungry. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Having a nineteen-year-old boarder has become more of a challenge than I anticipated.”
“Instinct tells me,” new mother Morgan offered, “that she’d be okay with a little mothering now and then. Not that you asked for my opinion.”
I placed my palms together in thanks as Jozef joined the three of us. He was currently living in a tiny house tucked into the woods behind his restaurant. He said he liked being close to work for now and would move into someplace bigger during the off-season. This meant he needed to go south while I lived to the east. The Barlows turned their backs so we could say goodnight.
He lassoed his arms around me. “Thank you for thinking of my restaurant.” His voice rumbled in his broad chest, soothing some of my stress.
“The blessing was going to be a surprise.”
“It was still a surprise.” He kissed me. “Sleep well, smuk.”
The first time he called me that, I didn’t know how to react. He waited a beat and explained it was Danish for beautiful.
“Goodnight, Jozef,” Briar and Morgan sang out with giggles as he walked away.
Goofy witches.
The three of us fell into a companionable silence as we strolled through the dark night to their cottage, which was only a few hundred yards from mine. Only the stars gave us light, and most of them were obscured by the pine trees.
My stress levels weren’t only because of Isobel’s interruption tonight. For the past three weeks, I’d spent all my non-working hours helping Jozef set up his restaurant. I gave the normal and necessary attention to my shop and customers, but I’d barely spent any time at home. Now, just when I felt like I could breathe again, Keiko was giving me flak.
Ruby hadn’t been especially happy either. “We haven’t had dinner together since the Viking got here.”
Even my cat and owl, Dot and Sanny, were giving me attitude.
I promise, I silently vowed to the four of them, everything will get back to normal now.
Briar glanced at me as though having heard my thoughts. The look on her face said, Careful. This is Whispering Pines, you know.