Witchbloom - Book 1: The Ghosts of Moonlight Valley Read online

  Witchbloom - Book 1: The Ghosts of Moonlight Valley

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Witchbloom

  Book One – The Ghosts of Moonlight Valley

  Mercy Lino

  For Nimitz and Johnny D

  Chapter 1

  The young witch glided toward the mountain, fearful of the cave coming into view. Her long, black, purple streaked hair whipped into her face as a strong gust of wind flowed around her. The storm overhead roared, threatening rain and hurling unbearably loud thunderclaps all around her. The sun had gone down hours ago and the moon couldn't quite find it's way through the fat clouds overhead.

  As she glanced at her feet, she realized that she hadn't been walking, but levitating along the grassy cliff side path.

  As the cave entrance loomed toward her, a shiver ran up her spine. Darkness, darker than the night itself, crept around the edge of her vision. A nearly crippling loneliness clutched her heart as she stared into the opening. She wanted to go in so badly, to see what has drawn her here, but the fear of what she may find held her in place.

  A familiar tune found it's way to her from within. It's a song her mother hummed to her as a child. She took a deep breath, not feeling the cold air entering her lungs.

  “Mom!” she yelled. Her mouth was closed, the word coming from within. It sounded so foreign to her, bouncing out of the cave, off the mountains, and mixing with the thunder.

  As she attempted to step into the cave, her shoe is stopped by an invisible barrier. It seems to be the same kind that protects her town, only localized to this one spot. She pounded a small fist against it.

  “Let me in!” she pleaded.

  Her fist hit the barrier again as the inside of the cave lit up. An eerie purple light emanated from crystals sprouting from various places along the walls. Stinging tears streamed from her eyes as she scanned the interior. Ahead of her, seated on a straw bed, a woman turned her head away, spilling a shining mane of black hair over the shoulder of her silver robe.

  She pounded on the barrier, desperate to break through, but she could only observe. Sure that this was what she has been waiting for, the witch stared intently at the woman, trying to catch at least a glimpse of her face.

  The woman stood and moved to a small wood stove, tending to a tea kettle that had just begun to whistle. As she reached for the kettle, her hand brushed a ceramic mug. The witch watched as it slowly tumbled end over end to the rocky floor, shattering.

  The woman turned and bent to clean up the shards, revealing her face. It was nothing short of true beauty for the ages. Flawless porcelain skin covered an oval face. Above her cat-like hazel eyes, her brows are pinched together. Her full red lips were pursed. She was obviously upset, but whether it was about the cup or something else, the which didn't know. Suddenly, she looked up at the witch, recognition sparked in her eyes.

  Stacia Bloom, the young witch's mother, stood and ran toward the barrier. But with every step forward, she appeared farther away. Stacia reached for Zoe, the panic strained her perfect features.

  As Zoe reached out, her mother began to move up as well as away, and Zoe realized that she was no longer standing on the cliff side, but falling. Her breathing stopped as her stomach seemed to have been launched into her lungs, and her watery eyes locked onto the jagged rocks below. In her mind, she saw her body breaking on the rocks just as the waves did.

  “Zoe!” a voice called out.

  The falling slowed and became hazy.

  “Zoe, wake up!” It was her father's voice.

  The fear and confusion melted away as Zoe saw her messy room, her sheets, and her father's loving face.

  “Dad, I saw mom!” she said groggily. “She was warning me about something.”

  Leo softly took her hand and pushed an errant strand of purple hair behind her ear. Fully awake then, Zoe leaned her head on her father's shoulder.

  “Want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “No,” Zoe replied. “I just need to catch my breath.” Her demeanor changed as she looked up into his eyes. “But some pancakes would be nice,” she said sheepishly.

  “Anything you want, punkin,” he said with a smile, then stood. “You sounded more scared than usual. Are you sure you're okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said after a moment of silence. “It was just different than my other nightmares. She had even aged. Do you think it was a vision?”

  “I don't know, darling. You're the magic one. Maybe you should ask your gramps about it.”

  With a nod from Zoe, her father turned to leave.

  “With strawberry syrup?” she asked.

  With guidance from her father, Zoe had been doing her own laundry since she was ten, but she didn't mind. As usual, her hamper was full of dirty clothes (almost all of which had come from the Outside.) When her powers came in, she knew that she'd be using magic to solve the issue.

  Unfortunately, she didn't have time to put a load in. Her nightmare had ended minutes before her alarm would normally have gone off. She closed the closet door on the mostly empty hangars and turned her attention to a pile of old clothes that she intended to donate to the local thrift store. A pair of holey jeans, although not exactly fashionable (Zoe's small town had ideas very different from the Outside world,) they would suffice. A groan escaped her as she found the only wearable shirt in the pile, a white tee with glitter surrounding a jovial looking cat's face. To top off the ensemble, she chooses a black holiday robe, replete with a garishly pointed hat and a dreaded pair of of pointy shoes. Thankfully, irons weren't necessary in her town. Clothing was typically magically imbued with wrinkle free threading, and for anything that wasn't, a very simple unwrinkling spell could be used.

  With her outfit chosen and put on, she threw her printed pajamas somewhere in the vicinity of the hamper, took a deep breath, and mentally prepared for the day. Ignoring her mirror, she moved to two pictures hanging by the door.

  The first was taken at Reflecting Lake when Zoe was five. In it, she was smiling and holding one of eac
h of her parent's hands. Contrary to her usual tomboy nature, she was wearing a pink dress adorned with small golden butterflies. Her mother had encouraged dresses and Zoe liked them as well but when her mother disappeared, she stopped owning dresses altogether.

  The second picture is of her mother wearing her usual silver robe, performing a blessing on the garden in their back yard. She exuded regality, standing proudly with her arm and wand outstretched, a glowing smile.

  “Mom where are you? Why did you leave?” Zoe wondered aloud,”Will I ever see you again?”

  The question faded as she entered the kitchen and smelled the pancakes. The mystery of Stacia Bloom would continue.

  Chapter 2

  The morning was brisk, but no threat of precipitation loomed (according to the local weather broadcast, anyway.) A ray of sunshine broke through a few fluffy white clouds, bringing behind it a pure crystal blue sky, and finally touched down on a small town in Oregon. Between Portland and Eugene, east of Salem, lies Moonlight Valley. Otherwise invisible to everyone but the very special 203 residents (plus four on the way,) it looked like it belonged on a 50s era postcard. Aside from the various witches, warlocks, and other magical creatures, of course.

  It was day one of a Sabbat for the town called Samhain, a three day holiday that begins on October 31st. It is also known as The Witches New Year to the Wiccan community. The residents would wear black shoes and traditional black robes with an orange crescent moon emblazoned on the chest. Witches's shoes were pointed, warlock's shoes were pointed, and those that didn't wear shoes would wear ankle bracelets, rings, or other forms of jewelry.

  One such storefront was that of Pritchard's Pantry, named for it's owner, Pritchard Blackwood. He was always the first to open for the day, promptly at first light. In addition to groceries, Pritchard's had various hot beverages available along with fresh pastries that his wife would prepare. She was well known for her ability to supplement her cooking with magic, cutting her cooking times in half.

  The Elders would frequently stop in on their way to the Sacred Hall at the end of the Main Street as well as Verdelet, the town High Officer. On holidays he brings the Magistra special black roast coffee. It is always unsweetened, with two spoons of Nubian goat cream (sourced locally from Ottoman Farm.) Seven minutes later, like every other morning, Verdelet delivered this coffee to the town's interim Magistra Daria Rane.

  Shortly after Verdelet's departure from the store, a Goblin would order piping hot chocolate topped with whipped cream for himself. It had taken him years to finally try the delicious cream. It suits him fine.

  Pritchard Blackwood was generally a happy and hard working warlock. He would manually assemble the produce stand in front of his store, and place every fruit and vegetable just right. Any hint of bruising, rot, insects, or visual blemishes and he would send the fruit to the local farm for pig feed. The store generated just enough income to cover his expenses, have a small nest egg for emergencies, and keep his family comfortable. He had never focused on profits, choosing instead to ensure that all of his customers walked away happy.

  Pritchard nonchalantly waved of his wand, the glass store entrance unlocked and the “open” sign lit up. Arms wrapped around his waist from behind and he turned to kiss his wife on the forehead.

  “Ready for another day?” she asked.

  “Always,” he replied with a smile.

  Pritchard saw Mrs. Sapharnia, a nymph and teacher at Paragon Academy of Magic, approaching the doorway. He opened it for her and greeted her with a smile.

  “Ola!” she exclaimed happily, wearing a large smile. Pritchard was moving to pour her a cup of coffee before the door had even closed.

  “Medium, black, one lump?” he asked.

  “Oh, no thank you, Mr. Blackwood. I had time to make some at home,” she replied, still smiling. “But I do need some dill. My garden was completely frozen this morning, and I can't have eggs without dill!” She emphasized the last word with a pointed finger.

  “Ah,” Pritchard said with an empathetic frown. “Did you try a warming spell?”

  “I did, and I ended up burning them,” she said with a nervous laugh. Being a teacher, it was embarrassing to make mistakes with spells. Fortunately, Pritchard was not the judgmental type. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

  “Don't worry, it happens to the best of us.”

  Mrs. Sapharnia neglected to tell Pritchard about why she had been distracted when casting her spell. The night before, her husband, Thisbe, had attempted to make dinner without the aid of magic. The result was disastrous. The meat was beyond well done, the potatoes were under cooked, and the vegetables were more of a paste than anything recognizable. The whole ordeal had required Mrs. Sapharnia to contact Aldo, Zoe's grandfather, for an herbal remedy to calm her stomach.

  “1.25 please, Mrs. Sapharnia,” Pritchard says after bringing the dill to the checkout counter. Mrs. Sapharnia's eyebrows twitched upward slightly in surprise.

  “Pritchard, have you gone and increased your prices on me?”

  “No, never!” he said. “It just so happens that this is the best dill on the market, imported from our friends in Germany. If you liked your eggs before, they're really going to zing.” She eyed him with good natured suspicion, but he continued. “And for chicken, just this with a little butter and garlic will send you to the moon!”

  With a satisfied nod, she handed the currency over.

  “Don't forget the receipt please,” she requested. Mrs. Sapharnia had always been a thrifty shopper, marking every transaction in a small ledger. “Thank you, Mr. Blackwood. I'll tell you know they turn out at the festival tonight.”

  With a flashy smile and wave, she exited the store with an extra bounce in her step. She is excited about tonight's festivities as will be all the citizens. Tonight will bring more than just celebration.

  Chapter 3

  Zoe and Leo were walking along a well worn path through Hallowed Forest on their way to Aldo Winter's house. Aldo was Stacia's father, Zoe's grandfather. He had grown up in the Bloom house, and had raised his daughter there with his wife, Tempe. After Stacia had left for classes at an Outsider college, Tempe had become ill. No amount of magic could heal her, and she refused to go to the hospital in California. She had only been 55, but she had known that it was her time. Aldo was devastated having been married to Tempe since he was eighteen.

  He moved into a small cabin buried in the woods outside of town just after Stacia's marriage to Leo. Aldo wanted them to have a place of their own, but he also wanted solitude, and to continue his work on the illness that had claimed his wife. The year before, he had discovered a rare berry that, unless consumed properly, would poison the consumer. Although he hadn't yet found a cure, he made sure to notify the town, which promptly burned the berry producing plants.

  “Watch the path, dad,” Zoe warned. The path can twist but otherwise it's a fairly easy trek.

  Zoe loved walks with her father. It gave them time to catch up on each others busy lives, such as the current series of books she was reading, Zombie Fallout. Initially, Leo hadn't wanted Zoe reading about scary and adult situations, but she had assured him that zombies didn't scare her and she was mature enough to handle anything else. Ever since the first book, she was swept up in the Outsider zombie fascination, and forming a new bond with her non-magical father. He still preferred mystery novels, but enjoyed sharing conversations about zombie books with his daughter.

  “So Mike Talbot and his family are facing off against endless zombies, again,” Zoe continued. “But dad, he's so funny with B.T., I can't wait for you to read this series.”

  “Do they ever win?” Leo asked. He preferred happy, or at least not hopeless, endings. Unfortunately, zombie books ended badly as often as they ended well.

  “I'm not sure yet, but they always seem to get away. But this time there's a vampire.”

  “A good one, or a bad one?” he asked. Just like the Outside world, they had vampires, but theirs were real,
and not bound to a good or evil side.

  Zoe was about to answer when she saw Aldo's house not too much farther along the path that had caused her excitement to rise.

  It was one story, painted a creamy white, and had a porch that wrapped around it entirely. Four chairs, one a rocker, sat on the porch, faced toward the front. If she continued toward the back, she would see the kitchen windows overlooking his garden full of the various herbs that Aldo needed for his potions. Beyond the garden was a smaller house built for his live in maid, Marigold. It even featured a smaller garden for vegetables. Aldo had hired Marigold shortly after moving to his cabin, insisting that Stacia was too busy to be “cleaning up after an old man.” It also helped that she wasn't stomping through the house.

  Four steps up the porch, three to the door, and Zoe greeted the knocker.

  “Good morning, knocker.”

  It didn't respond, simply looking at her with it's very simple carved eyes, nose, and mouth. Knockers were not known for their hospitality. Or any behavior, for that matter, since they were just carved wood. Nothing needed to be said to a knocker. It simply announced who was in front of it.

  “Zoe Bloom and Leo Bloom, have arrived,” the knocker stated flatly.

  Marigold's fairy wings fluttered quietly as she opened the door to let them in.

  “Good holiday, Blooms!” she said.

  Her blond hair was straight and perfect, flowing over her ample (for a fairy) bosom, and down over her nearly as ample belly. A small locket, a courting gift from her husband and the only one she owned, lay between her breasts. Contrary to popular Outsider belief, Fairies were just as susceptible to over indulgence as any other creature. Hers was due to the loss of her husband, a goblin she had met about 200 years before in her twenties. At the time, Ireland forbid crossing magic between species, but their hearts couldn't be swayed, so they had moved from the forest to Moonlight Valley.

  Silver, her husband, had been an inventor, having even created many tools in current use by their farmers. He was also fanatic about mysterious places. After three years of convincing Marigold, plotting a safe route, finding an enchanted and foolproof navigation system, and building his own boat, he left to explore the Bermuda Triangle, never to be heard from again. The covens in Florida continued investigating and monitoring the area, but had never turned up any clues.