The Witches of Hant Hollow: Jonathan's Curse
Author: D.F. Jones
Date: 2000-01-01 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Romance; Paranormal; Witches; Young Adult; Fiction; Paranormal Romance
Description: Wickedly thrilling fast-paced tale of a family of witches power struggles over light and dark magic, and how one mortal man gets caught in the crosshairs of the feud causing upheaval in not only Jasmine's love life but rife within the American Mage Alliance. Will Jasmine save Jonathan at the risk of losing the one she love most?
Rights: Copyright 2018 D. F. Jones. All rights reserved (#2786942518644275).

The Witches of Hant Hollow

D. F. Jones

Jones Media

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Also by D. F. Jones

Prologue

Present Day

Jasmine peered into her dressing table mirror and froze into a state of trance. Her mind’s eye watched Jonathan step out of the cabin. Suddenly yanked up into the midnight air, he flew over treetops and neighborhood homes. She connected with his rush of emotions heightened by fear of crashing to the ground.

Not a car or truck in sight on the lonely country roads.

The woods of Hant Hollow rapidly became apparent as she watched him lower over a small clearing that revealed the Doanhart mansion’s asymmetrical design and gambrel roof with arched windows illuminating a golden glow on the black and white facade.

He tried to run as soon as his feet hit the ground, but someone grabbed him, digging fingernails into his upper arm, drawing blood. He fought to no avail.

The massive front porch with elaborate classical elements loomed and distorted in Jasmine’s view as she watched Jonathan stumble up the steps. His eyes widened as the red double door opened of its own accord.

Bile rose from her stomach, but the knot in her throat pushed it back down.

An unclear voice, neither male or female, laughed at Jonathan. “Sick? Angry? Hurt? Go ahead and tell me what you really think.”

An invisible force pushed Jonathan inside making him fall on the foyer’s marble floor.

Pushing up on his hands and knees, Jonathan released a deep breath and screamed, “I hate you for stealing my life, for killing my wife, and for manipulating me into doing something you wanted so desperately. But your plans backfired, didn’t they? Do you really want to know what I think? I want to wrap my fingers around your scrawny neck and choke you to death.”

The sinister laughter echoed in the empty house. “Who said my plans backfired?”

A hooded figure came into Jasmine’s view, gripped Jonathan under the arm, and dragged him up the mahogany spiral staircase with an ornate balustrade. On the stairwell landing, portraits of women, centuries old, came to life nodding and whispering to each other as if they knew a secret Jasmine didn’t, yet.

Hundreds of candles flickered and floated in the air on the third-floor ballroom. The walls and bookshelves contained antiquities, oddities, and sculptures. The sculptures seemed almost lifelike with terror-filled eyes.

The hooded figure put Jonathan in an ancient Egyptian throne made of ebony and inlaid with gold and precious stones. Glowing ropes mysteriously bound his wrists and ankles securely to the chair.

Jasmine glanced away for only a second when she heard Jonathan shout, “You! It was you this whole time?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jonathan noticed her, and she screamed.

She shouted, but no vocal sounds came from her lips. The hooded figure spelled her.

Jasmine needed supernatural help. She summoned the Mouijah Stones.

Chapter 1

1915 Rockvale, Tennessee

Jonathan tethered his two-horse team to the hitching post and went up the stairs to the general store to pick up supplies and staples for the farm.

He glanced to his right and saw a stunning woman standing next to the fabric bin. Her copper curls hung loosely over her shoulders. She turned slightly lifting her gaze to meet him.

He tipped his Stetson. “Ma’am, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. My name’s Jonathan Rogers.”

She smiled and lifted her chin. “Everyone in town has surely been hospitable since our arrival. I’m Mae.” She extended a gloved hand, and he looked down and for a second thought about kissing it but instead placed his hands over hers and held it a mite too long.

She politely withdrew and raised a brow. “My father is the new bank president. Perhaps, you’ve heard of him? Anthony Morgan? You should stop by and open an account.”

Jonathan chuckled while rubbing the rim of his hat. “I mean no disrespect, but I don’t trust bankers with my money.”

Mae’s mouth gaped open; then she frowned. With a distinct Southern accent, she huffed, “I’ll be sure to pass along the information to my father.” She turned her back to Jonathan and picked up a bolt of fabric.

He liked Mae straight away but left her to her business while he attended to his shopping list. Once he completed his task, he purposely ignored Mae as he walked toward the door, carrying several boxes of goods.

Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed Mae stared at him with both hands on her hips in apparent vexation as he left the store. He chuckled again and made a mental note to attend the Saturday night dance just in case Mae might be there.

After loading the buckboard, he took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his face with a red and white bandanna. He heard boys shouting and cursing up a storm behind the store.

He ran around back and found three teenage boys throwing rocks and dirt at a young woman.

Jonathan shouted, “Stop it right now, or I’ll haul every blasted one of you to Sheriff Watson.” He stepped in front of the frightened woman, and she cowered behind him.

One of the boys yelled, “She’s a witch. Her grannie put a curse on my daddy’s backside, and he broke out with blisters full of pus.”

Jonathan narrowed his eyes and said, “Get while the getting’s good, boys. Last chance.” He pulled out his Colt and fired a round in the air. The boys took off like white lightning and disappeared down the back alley.

He knelt before the crying woman and dried her tears with his fingertips. “It’s okay. The boys are gone. By the way, my name’s Jonathan, and you must be one of the Doanharts.” He noticed the clumps of dirt on her dress and the swelling of her right eye. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to give you a ride home.”

“Those boys are mean. Oh, I’m Jasmine—Jasmine Doanhart.” Her green catlike eyes widened as she pressed her lips tight with a slight quiver in her chin.

Jonathan tried dusting off her dark blue gored skirt. “Yup, they’re mean all right. I’m afraid you’re going to have quite a shiner on your right eye. So, how about that ride?”

With a look of fear, she shook her head no. “My grandmother wouldn’t like that at all.”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you a ride on my way home, and drop you off just before Hant Hollow. Is this your basket of apples?” He swiftly picked up the shiny red apples scattered on the ground and placed them back into the brown wicker basket.

Jonathan had never been to the Doanhart’s house, and for that matter, the people venturing there at night never recalled the location.

“Yes, I was taking the apples and cider to sell at the store when the boys cornered me. They broke the cider bottles and threw rocks at me shouting, ‘Witch.’”

Jonathan pushed his hat slightly off his forehead. “I don’t believe in witches. People make up things they can’t quite put their finger on.”

“Why are you so kind to me?”

“That’s how my daddy raised me.”

“Oh, okay. If you’re sure it won’t be too much trouble, I’d love that ride.” Jasmine reached for the basket as he helped her into the buckboard.

“I’ve been craving Dutch apple pie so how about I buy the apples from you?”

Jasmine smiled and nodded. “Oh, thank you. But I can’t take your money. How about we trade the apples for the ride?”

Jonathan threw his head back and laughed. “You got yourself a deal.”

On the road to Hant Hollow, the horse’s hooves clip-clopped in a steady rhythm with the jingle jangle of the harness over the occasional whinny and neigh.

He chatted with Jasmine about the new horror film Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde with James Cruze opening at the town’s nickelodeon. “Have you seen the spooky posters and decorations added to the outside of the building?”

“Oh, no, my grandmother doesn’t allow us to attend any of the pictures. I’d love to see one though.”

“You’ve never been to any films? They’re wonderful.”

She gripped the side of the buckboard as it rolled over the grooves on the dirt road. With a frown, she said, “The people in town shun us. They call us names and cross to the other side of the street when one of my family members approaches. And what happened today isn’t the first time one of us has been attacked in town. But they’ll sneak to our house in the dead of night for a healing herb when one of theirs is sick or fetch us to help with the delivery of one of their brats.”

“That’s horrible. Most of the people in town were kind to my father, and still are to me, but after my dad died, I sold our house and bought a small farm in the country not far from Hant Hollow.” He didn’t mention his weasel of a cousin stealing the family business from him.

“How did your dad die? Oh, I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have asked that question.”

He didn’t want to broach that topic until he found out what happened to his father. He kept investigating even though the town doctor ruled his death as a heart attack.

His dad’s cousin, Dale, had been trying to gain control of the family mill and the property that went with it. Dale had something to do with his dad’s death—Jonathan felt it in his gut, and one day he’d prove it. One day he’d get the mill back. He didn’t want the house. Too many memories, and too many ghosts.

On the edge of Hant Hollow, Jonathan pulled on the reins. “Whoa, Ida. Whoa, Dick.” He turned and placed his right arm on the back of the buckboard’s seat. “That’s a story for another day.”

Jasmine burst into laughter. “Your horses’ names are Ida and Dick?”

He chuckled. “Yep. I didn’t name them. The quarter horses belonged to my father.” He pulled on the brake and the horses whinnied and shook their heads. He hopped down and walked around the wagon to help Jasmine.

She held onto his hand and jumped to the ground. “Enjoy the apples, and thanks for sticking up for me.”

“No thanks needed. You head along now, and be sure to watch out for those knuckle-headed boys.” He paused for a second then asked, “Hey, you want to go to the movie with me?”

Jasmine blushed and briefly glanced to the ground before locking those incredible green eyes with his. His stomach flipped.

She reached up on tiptoe and kissed Jonathan’s cheek. “I appreciate the offer, but I have to decline. Although, you’re like a knight in one of the Grimm stories.”

He took off his hat and placed it on his chest. “Milady.” He climbed back into the buckboard and snapped the reins. “Get along. Let’s go home.” He watched Jasmine disappear into the thicket of Hant Hollow as the horses moved forward along the road.

Shaking his head, he mused over Jasmine.

The Doanharts had never given him any problems. Besides, gossip thrived in a small town, and he never gave the witches rumors any credence.

On the ride home, Jonathan’s thoughts returned to his dad’s death. The foreman of the mill had worked for their family for twenty-odd years, and he arranged to get a copy of the office key for Jonathan.

He muttered to himself, “I’ll leave early on Saturday night and make a stop by the mill before going to the dance. Just maybe, Dale left something behind that will implicate him.”

The day his dad died was like any other day in their small town. Except over breakfast, Thomas mentioned he’d met with an attorney to draw up documents naming Jonathan as a full partner. Jonathan worked for his father since he graduated high school. The larger-than-life man had been the epitome of good health and in the prime of his life. A heart attack seemed unlikely.

Dale had lost his shares to the family business in a poker game years ago, and he never forgave Thomas for claiming the debt. Then Dale produced a new will naming him the sole heir to Rogers Mill. Jonathan searched for the deed, but it had mysteriously vanished.

It seemed too coincidental to Jonathan.

Turning the team down the farm road, Jonathan shook off his thoughts about his family and whistled the latest Ziegfeld tune, “Hello, Frisco.”

The clouds disappeared, and the sun beat down on his face.

Things seemed to be looking up for a change.

He met two beautiful women today.

* * *

Mae watched Jonathan leave the store without even a sideways glance in her direction. Since she’d moved to the town of Rockvale, Mae had plenty of attention from male suitors, but Jonathan Rogers captured her attention by just ignoring her.

Easy on the eyes too.

He wore a long sleeve white shirt rolled up to his elbows. The cut of the shirt complemented his well-defined physique. The mere thought of Jonathan made her cheeks flush.

Mr. Hubern, the storekeeper, approached Mae. “My wife’s feeling poorly today, but I’m sure she’ll meet with you in the next few days on making new dresses and such. I’d be happy to wrap up the bolts of fabric?”

She handed him the silk and linen. “I’d love to meet with your wife. I hear she’s an excellent seamstress. Please charge those to my father and have your wife call on me when she’s feeling better. Oh, one more thing, will the new Sears and Roebuck’s arrive soon?”

Mr. Hubern placed the fabric bolts behind the counter, took out a ledger, and began to write down the charges. “I ‘spect it’ll come sometime next week. I’ll send a message through the hoot and holler as soon as I get it.”

She’d heard of the town’s hoot and holler system always opened to two or more parties in point to point communication like Southern Bell in Atlanta. “Wonderful.” She paused before leaving and leaned against the counter. “Uh, Mr. Hubern, do you know Jonathan Rogers?”

“Yes, ma’am. Jonathan’s a fine fellow. Sad business though. His father owned the sawmill in town. Rumor has it there was some bad blood with his father’s cousin, Dale. Poor Jonathan found his daddy deader than a doornail late one night a little over a year ago. Doc Smith said it was a heart attack, but the rumor circulating is Dale had something to do with it. With no proof, the Rogers family feud cost Jonathan the mill. Half the town is still mad over it.”

Mae’s hand went to her mouth. She’d heard of Dale Rogers because her father had met with him on several occasions. “Oh my, that’s awful.”

“Are you all right, Miss Morgan? My wife tells me all the time to keep my trap shut and stop sticking my nose in everybody’s business, but everybody’s business sooner or later ends up at the store.” Hubern shrugged, then turned the ledger around for Mae to sign.

She swayed against the counter. “I’m a little light-headed.”

Mr. Hubern stepped over to the soda fountain and poured her a glass of lemonade. “Why don’t you take a seat and have a drink of lemonade?”

Mae sipped the drink. “Thank you, but I’ll be okay once I get outside. It’s stifling hot in the store. How do you stand it?” She bent over to sign the bill.

He laughed. “Aw, I’m used to it. I’ve been working in the store most of my life.”

She handed him the empty glass. “Well, tell Missus Hubern that I hope she feels better real soon. Good day, Mr. Hubern.”

“Good day to you.”

Outside in the blazing sun, Mae opened her parasol and walked along the flagstone sidewalk. Her thoughts turned to Jonathan. She wondered if he might come to the Saturday night dance, and pictured herself in his big strong arms.

She blushed from the heat of desire licking improper thoughts in her mind of the well-built farmer.

Oh, Mae Morgan, it isn’t proper for a lady to have such sinful thoughts about a man.

She giggled.

Shaking her head, she opened the bank door and went inside looking for her father. She glanced to his office, and two men dressed in suits sat in front of his cherry desk. He looked up and smiled, and she returned a silent greeting.

Mae glanced at the Seth Thomas clock hanging on the back wall, and under it sat a lush potted palm plant. She beamed with pride at her father’s ability to bring in a new Protectograph check writer sitting on the teller’s counter alongside a Webster pencil sharpener.

She noticed a tall, thin man dressed in elegant Edwardian style leaning against a walnut conference table looking at her as if she wore only knickers. She glanced away from his impertinent stare.

Several newspapers lay out on a side table next to two straight back chairs. Mae picked one up, and the headline read, Lusitania Sunk by Submarine, 1300 Dead.

Mae averted her eyes. The threat of war loomed over America. She placed the newspaper back on the table.

The tall gentleman stepped over and slightly bowed. “Hello, Miss Morgan. I’m Dale Rogers, an associate of your father. He’s in a meeting. Would you like to sit and wait with me?”

“My father speaks highly of you, but if he’s busy, it’s nothing that can’t wait until dinner.” He reached for her hand, and she took a step back.

He asked, “Do you like the house? Have you settled in?”

“I have a few things left to unpack, but the house is beautiful. Now, who did you say were the prior owners? They took such good care of the place.”

“My cousin, Thomas, and his son, Jonathan.”

Mae’s heart started racing. She lived in Jonathan’s house. “Why did they sell?”

“Oh, my cousin died suddenly. His son decided to sell the house and purchased a place out in the country.”

“And his mother? What happened to her?”

“She died in childbirth when Jonathan was small. Why are you so interested?”

“Older houses have such character, and I believe that comes from the people who lived there.”

“So, you believe in ghosts?”

She tilted her head to the side. “I believe in the Holy Ghost so it seems to me there would be other ghosts too.”

“You’re a delight. Would you like for me to give Anthony a message?”

“Not really. I’ll see Dad at dinner. Good day, sir.” Before she turned, Dale grabbed her hand, bent over, and placed a kiss on it.

The nerve of the man.

If he weren't a business associate, she’d smack his smarmy face. She withdrew her hand and quickly left the bank.

She sensed more to the Rogers family drama than Dale let on, and she intended to find out what.

Chapter 2

Jasmine ran into the hollow and quickly shapeshifted into a calico cat. She clawed her way up to the top of the cedar tree and watched Jonathan drive away in his wagon. His kindness and gallantry touched her heart.

Jasmine could’ve used magic to stop the boys, but Grandmother Iris had forbidden spellcasting in town.

She stayed in the tree until Jonathan disappeared from her sight; then she made her way home. Jasmine shifted back into her human form and stopped briefly to catch her breath.

The boys hated her, and she didn’t even know them. They wanted to kill her. She read their thoughts. They might have succeeded if Jonathan hadn’t intervened.

What would her grandmother do to the boys if she found out?

Iris didn’t take kindly to mortals hurting her family after the murders of Aunt Silver and Cousin Aster.

Jasmine walked along the path. To the left of the house, Iris worked in the herb and vegetable garden wearing a wide-brim hat, long sleeve shirt and a wide skirt hitting at the ankles. Jasmine didn’t know the exact age of her grandmother, but she didn’t look a day past twenty-one, a timeless beauty with light auburn hair, cobalt blue eyes and full lips. Her peachy skin held no imperfections.

Jasmine’s mother, Isidore, Aunt Peony, and Aunt Silver had different fathers. Heck, she’d never met her dad. The Witches of Hant Hollow thought loving and living with a mate meant weakness.

She’d only seen them with males during the Solstice Festivals, holiday parties, and the occasional ball. Except for Lavender, her best friend, and first cousin. She loved men, wizards, werewolves, and vampires. She didn’t discriminate.

Thinking of Lavender made her smile.

Jasmine’s eyes widened as Iris made an incision in her forefinger with a paring knife, then walked the garden rows allowing droplets of blood to splat into the earth.

Why was she using blood?

Jasmine made a mental note to research the use of blood in the garden during her spell, potions, and charm study time in their library. All types of books filled their library including books on light and dark magic.

She glanced down and tried dusting off her clothes once more, then ran up the porch stairs into the front foyer nearly knocking her mother down.

Isidore held her face. “What happened?”

She fell into her mother’s arms and hugged her tightly. “Oh, townies again. This time a group of teenage boys tried to stone me to death, but this kind man named Jonathan saved me. He stood between the boys and me. He protected me with his life.”

“A little comfrey root will fix you right up.” Isidore let out a deep sigh and caressed Jasmine’s cheek before pulling her into the bright yellow kitchen. “You know you aren’t allowed to make friends with the mortals. We can’t trust them under any circumstance. One day, they’re nice to your face, and the next day, they’re stoning you or worse.” She pressed the herbal paste on Jasmine’s eye and held it there with a cold washcloth. “Hold the compress while I make you a treat.”

Lavender stepped into the kitchen and gasped. “Jasmine, who did this to you? Let me know, and they’ll wish they’d never been born.”

Jasmine grinned. “Oh, I’ll be okay. It isn’t the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.” She repeated the story of the attack and meeting Jonathan. She omitted that he’d given her a ride home.

Lavender twirled her long white-blond hair and secured it in place with magic. “Jonathan is incredibly good-looking. Well done, Jasmine.”

Isidore frowned. “Let’s not encourage her, please. You know mortals are off limits. We have much to do, and so little time left to do it in. The summer festival is only a couple of weeks away.”

“But mortals are so much fun to play with.”

Isidore shook her head. “You are incorrigible.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

Jasmine held the cloth against her eye as she shifted her position in the chair. She loved the kitchen. It was one of her favorite places in the house whether they cooked food or prepared potions.

The kitchen had bright yellow walls, tall cedar cabinets, and a large stone fireplace the length of the back wall that was big enough to roast a pig or contain several large black kettle pots. Twelve-foot arched bay windows let in loads of natural lighting in the day, and stars and moonlight streamed in at night.

Isidore sat a plate of tea cakes and a pitcher of milk on the table. “After you finish your treats, I need you to start washing the vegetables to prepare for canning. Iris is hiring servants for the celebration, but she wants to use our recipes.”

Lavender rolled her eyes. “Why can’t we just use magic? It’s much faster, and it tastes the same.”

“Magic has a time and place but expends much energy. You may not enjoy the practice of spellcasting later if you spend your energy on menial tasks now.” She turned to Jasmine while wiping her hands off with a dish towel. “You’ve been named the fortune teller for the summer festival.”

Jasmine’s face lit up. “I can’t believe it. Really?” She had a gift in foretelling the future and only used tarot cards and tea leaves as props for the mortals.

Her mom nodded and smiled.

Lavender said, “Aunt Esiey, tell us about the old ones.”

“You’re stalling, precious. But if you promise to help me the rest of the afternoon, I’ll tell you the story, again.”

“Promise.”

Isidore continued washing the vegetables without looking up. “Once upon a time, there was a group of influential and talented women descended from the Celtics. The women fought against the underworld of darkness with the divine powers from the Goddess of Light. Our leader, Dreena, the Lady of Light, passed down the knowledge and gifts from one generation to another. The Doanharts trained with the best of the ancient ones and that’s why our library is full of books and documents. Some of the sacred scrolls predate the Babylonian area.”

Jasmine removed the compress. “I met Dreena last year. She doesn’t age either, and she’s incredibly beautiful. I hear she’s coming to the celebration.”

Isidore brought the vegetables over to the fireplace and scraped them into the boiling pot. “Yes, and she’s staying with us. So, that’s why we must finish canning and gathering the food stores. The house will be full of guests.”

Jasmine went over to the well and drew a pail of water, then placed it on the wood-burning stove to boil.

Lavender said, “Come on, Aunt Esiey, finish the story. You’re getting to the good part.”

“Well, let me see, where was I? Oh yes, in the beginning, the mortals living in our community held our wise women and our powers sacred. Until one day, a group of men arrived wearing long black robes, black caps, and they had long beards. The men proclaimed to the community that the wise women’s magic came from the devil. The men called the women, witches, and made the people scared of the women they’d known all their lives. The men blamed the wise women for every sickness and misfortune in the community.”

The mantel over the fireplace held jars of herbs and spices. Isidore chose carefully from each jar, sprinkling the contents into the kettle as she continued the story. “Many of the gifted women, that had saved many lives in the community, were tortured and killed while the other wise women took the sacred documents and fled to the four corners of the world to escape the wrath of the black-robed men. Those men are why we’re called witches. Personally, I wear the witch name as a badge of honor to those that sacrificed their lives so that we could live.”

Jasmine stirred one of the black kettle pots. “But our magic comes from the light, not the darkness.”

Isidore glanced up and said, “Well, yes and no. That’s when the two factions of our people formed. The first group of wise women remains faithful to Dreena, the reigning Lady of Light, and the second group follows Urslina, who formed a separate group of witches using the dark arts. To this day, the Lady of Light and the Queen of the Dark Night are constantly at odds. We come together during the winter and summer solstice celebrations to reconcile.”

Jasmine said, “But both sides want to control the magic.”

Isidore slowly stirred the pot, scraping the sides. “Yes, that is unfortunate. Just remember, once a witch calls upon Urslina and the dark powers, they rarely return to the light. Don’t open the door to evil unless you want it to come in. Iris teaches us from the Book of Light, but she practices the dark arts, and its power remains within her.”

Jasmine shuddered. “No doubt. She scares me to death sometimes.”

“Me too, and her foul moods are ghastly.”

“Girls, you’re disrespectful.”

Lavender shrugged. “Well, it’s the truth.”

“I believe Iris had a chance of returning to the light once. I think she loved Jonathan’s father. Thomas almost succeeded in destroying the darkness within her, but unfortunately, in the end, he only made the darkness grow.”

“My Jonathan?” Jasmine asked in shock.

Lavender laughed and playfully shoved Jasmine. Mimicking Jasmine’s voice, she said, “My Jonathan?”

Jasmine zapped Lavender in the behind, and she yelped.

Jasmine asked, “How? What did he do?”

“He married Jonathan’s mother.”

Jasmine said, “Well, then, let’s not tell Iris about me meeting him today.”

Isidore smiled. “It’s probably wise. Why don’t you and Lavender go on to the library and start studying the Book of Spells? You never know when Iris will give you a test.”

“I thought we were canning vegetables.”

“We are, but I have to parboil them a couple of times and then allow the vegetables to cool. I’ll call you when I need help.”

“All right. There’s something I want to look up anyway.”

Isidore nodded, and then Jasmine and Lavender raced down the wide hallway.

At the door of the library, Lavender looked both ways and whispered, “Don’t tell. I’m meeting Brody in the glen. He’s trekking the terrain for the layout of the festival. I do love a man in the Mage Alliance uniform.” She popped out of sight.

Jasmine shook her head and entered the library. She loved the smell of old books. Each book released a different scent and the chemicals within the pages carried messages to her brain. She’d read most of them.

Jasmine.

Her ears pricked at the sound of her name.

Jasmine.

She turned and followed the sound to the oldest section of the library where the forbidden hand-written books on delicate papyrus, rolled scrolls, and ancient leather-bound books filled the top tier of the bookshelves.

She glanced over her shoulder and wiggled her finger to lock the library door and then floated to the second landing. Her fingers scanned across the books searching for the one calling out to her.

Jasmine.

The hair on the nape of her neck rose. Light shimmered through the windows catching the dust particles dancing in the air.

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sound of her name.

Jasmine.

Holding her hand's palms up, she said, “Come to me and let me see the book that beckons me.” She peeked through one eye, then opened the other. No book appeared, but behind the scrolls, a golden light glimmered.

Iris would kill her if she caught Jasmine sifting through the archaic texts. The ancient manuscripts were the oldest in the library and forbidden to all, except Iris.

As the scrolls parted, what looked like an antique jewelry box with mother-of-pearl inlay opened to her.

Pick up the golden jeweled stone.

Her fingers trembled as she pulled the box to the edge of the wooden shelf and opened the lid. She found two round golden sun discs each encrusted with large ruby stone similar in shape and size engraved with what appeared to be hieroglyphics. But they weren’t Egyptian. She’d studied Egyptian hieroglyphics, and her grandmother owned several ancient Egyptian pieces.

Part of her told Jasmine to put the box back, but her curiosity got the better of her.

She picked up the disc and faded from the library into a room bathed in warm sunlight. The incandesce filled the dense air.

No sky. No ground.

“I am the Goddess of Light, and you’re holding one of the Mouijah Stones.”

Jasmine wanted to throw herself at the feet of the light, but nothing existed except the sound of her voice. So, she bowed her head and lowered her eyes.

“You don’t need to fear me. I’m here to warn you of an encompassing darkness. One that will try to claim your soul. But you will not let it. I’m here to help you. I have always been here. I understand you feel strange, but it will pass. Light and Darkness have coexisted for many millennia. You cannot have one without the other. The Lord Darkness, you call death, comes for each being. But you do not have to give him your soul.”

Jasmine rocked back and forth in a weightless state. She worried for a second she might vomit on the Goddess. Headiness and heaviness nearly took her, but somehow, she managed to stay alert.

Tongue-tied, Jasmine wanted to ask questions, but what?

“Are you flesh or spirit?’ It sounded better in her mind than when she asked the question.

“I am both. I understand you’re overwhelmed. Open your ears that you may hear. There are two discs. One is to call me, and the other is to call The Lord Darkness. When you need guidance, I am here. No one will ever know of our conversations, especially not your grandmother. But remember, if you ever call on the Lord Darkness, he will expect payment. He will expect a soul.”

She nodded. “I-I’m not quite sure what to ask except, why me?”

“You have a generous heart, and you seek to help and not harm.”

She frowned. “How did the discs end up in our library?”

“Your grandmother stole them for Urslina. She was called to keep them safe, but she is changing, and I no longer trust her.”

“How am I to help? What do you want from me?”

“You will know how to help and what I want when the time is right.”

The light faded and once again Jasmine stood in library holding the sun disc. She placed it back in the box and the box melted into the scrolls.

Did she want the responsibility of caring for the Mouijah Stones?

She spoke softly. “I will try and honor you, Goddess of Light.”

Her chest tightened as the realization struck her that she’d been called to offset her grandmother’s darkness.

An invisible line drawn in the sand with two witches living in the same house wielding the enormous powers of the Light and Dark magic.

Chapter 3

At full capacity, Rogers Mill employed two dozen workers. Most loyal to Jonathan’s father, Thomas. Bud had been with the company the longest, and he’d managed to snag one of the new office keys.

Saturday night, Jonathan parked in between the logging trucks. He didn’t expect anyone to be on the premises but wanted to be safe rather than sorry. He crept along the cedar tree line to the side entrance of the shop. He pulled the borrowed key out of his pocket and wiggled it into the lock, and the door opened. He glanced over his shoulder before entering the office.

Jonathan spent most of his childhood running around the grounds and office. He worked summers during school, and after he graduated, he’d trained for every position. His dad told him that working every job would make him a better boss.

Inside the main office, nothing changed, but Dale had renovated Thomas’s office. No old framed illustrations of the state maps decorated the room. His mother’s framed photo no longer sat on the desk, and no pictures of him and his father hung on the walls.

Jonathan resisted the urge to pummel the walls with holes. Destroying the property wouldn’t get the mill back. He must prove Dale killed his dad or that he forged the will or Jonathan needed to find the deed to Rogers Mill.

Patience was not Jonathan’s virtue.

He lit one lantern and started going through Dale’s desk. An hour later, he’d nearly given up hope when he found a locked safe installed behind a framed piece of art of two bears dancing.

Jonathan tried several combinations, and then entered the day of his dad’s death. Left zero. Right four. Left ten. Right thirteen. The door hissed and released.

Jonathan’s fingers trembled. In order, he pulled out each item, until he found the original deed handed down to his father by his grandfather, James. In the large envelope, he found a letter. The letter was written by Thomas and notarized by the bank president’s predecessor. Tiny pricks like needles rose on his arms.

He placed the deed in his coat, then put the empty envelope back in the safe and closed the safe door. Outside, he heard people shouting.

Jonathan looked for a way out.

Nothing.

He remembered the attic. He hopped on a desk beneath the square in the ceiling and pushed the attic door to the side then pulled himself up. He barely slid the attic door in place when the office door opened.

Dale shouted, “I arranged for you to take over the bank so I could pick off the farms nearing collapse. Land, Morgan. The land is what makes men rich.”

“You and I have a deal. Partners, fifty-fifty. How did you get rid of Thomas?”

“Never you mind.”

Jonathan watched through a crack in the ceiling as Dale enter the combination of the safe, the door opened, and he placed another envelope inside. Dale had no doubt stolen another farm. He shook with anger.

“What about the boy?”

“Jonathan? He’s too stupid to figure out that I swindled him out of his dad’s business and it’s too late now. I filed the documents with the State. Rogers Mills legally belongs to me.”

“You better hope he doesn’t wise up. There’s a thing called statute of limitations.”

Dale opened the office door and waved for Mr. Morgan to go through. “I bought the house from Jonathan on the square.”

Morgan’s voice faded. “Does that ease your conscience and make you sleep well at night? And hey, you promised to marry my daughter. Don’t forget that part of the bargain.”

Dale laughed out loud. “That’s what will help me sleep well at night, the sweetest part of our deal—Mae.”

Jonathan’s jaw clenched tight when he heard the door shut. He eased out of the attic and replaced the cover.

Peeking out of the office windows, Jonathan watched Morgan drive away and then Dale.

His racing pulse made his ears ring. He left the room with the original deed to the Mill. He’d talk with Will at the dance. Admittedly, the District Attorney Will Lamb would know a way to help him get the rights to the mill.

He glanced at his clothes now dirty from climbing into the attic. He had just enough time to go home and change before he went to the dance.

Thirty minutes later, Jonathan, dressed in his finest summer suit, drove his Model T into town through the crowded square bustling with activity. People laughed and talked while walking down the flagstone sidewalks lit by gas street lamps.

He drove past the bank, the library, and Doc Smith’s office and parked at The Fox Hunt, his local lodge. Men met at the lodge to drink, play cards, and discuss any local news, statewide, or on occasion, the broader political landmine of the United States along with the escalating tensions across the Atlantic.

Jonathan stuck his head inside The Fox Hunt to tell the barkeep he left his vehicle parked in the open lot while he attended the dance. “Hey, Earl, looks like business is pretty slow tonight.”

Earl stood behind the counter wiping out just-washed beer mugs. “Yeah, the boys are all gussied up to take a gander at the new dame in town.”

Jonathan placed his forearms on the counter. “That so? I guess my work’s cut out for me. But then again, I might be back sooner than you think.” He winked and called out over his shoulder, “See ya later, Earl the Pearl.”

He took a shortcut in front of the general store and noticed Hubern sitting on the porch. “Good evening. How’s the missus?”

“She’s a mite better today.” He gave Jonathan a wide grin. “We’re going to have a baby.”

“Congratulations. That’s great news.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a father, but I guess the good Lord knows what he’s doing. I ‘spect you’re going to the dance to see Miss Mae. She asked about you the other day.”

“Yeah? Did she now?” Jonathan put his right foot on the bottom step and rested his forearm on his knee.

Hubern rocked the chair back and forth making the wood plank floor squeak. “She asked if I knew you, and I told her you were a fine fellow, and well, that’s the truth, ain’t it?”

He chuckled. “You’re a sport for putting in a good word for me. So, I guess I’ll head on over to the dance. Be sure to give Margaret my best.”

Mae had asked about him. Hmm.

His anger has subsided somewhat, but the mention of Mae made him want to protect her more than he wanted to date her. Sweet and beautiful and probably spoiled rotten, but she still didn’t deserve what her father had in store for her. Married to his father’s cousin, Dale, a man the same age as her father. Bah.

A butterscotch glow illuminated from the windows of the town hall as he approached the steps. People milled around out front while others walked to the entrance.

The Ladies Auxiliary Club held a countywide dance once a month, and folks from miles around came to eat, drink, and dance. The ladies provided a feast fit for a king, and the proceeds usually went to the hospital, the local school, or the library.

The Saturday night dance also provided the ladies of town a chance to show off their sense of fashion and emulate a high society style of the larger cities in the South.

The recently built two-story Georgian-style Town Hall housed the offices of local government, council meetings, local theater, music recitals as well as the dance.

Every month, the ladies selected a different theme, and this month’s dance celebrated Magnolias in May. Magnolia blooms and vines decorated the entire hall. White linen cloths covered the tables along with fine china and silver, and crystal vases were full of fragrant May flowers serving as the centerpieces for each table.

The Morris Brothers Quartet performed with the local orchestra playing favorites of the day while couples danced.

Jonathan tapped his toe to the music while he searched the crowded room for Mae. He spotted her dancing with his much older cousin, Dale, and clenched his fists.

Someone smacked him on the back, and he whirled around to find his best friend, Will Lamb.

“Et tu, Bruté?”

Jonathan chuckled. “My cousin needs to be shot and for more reasons than one. That man’s old enough to be her father.”

“She’s pretty as a picture and hasn’t had a second to breathe since she got here. Have you seen the spread? Boy, oh, boy, I’m going to eat until I pop.” Will loved food, and his girth showed it.

“Hey, I need to talk to you in private.” In the corner, surrounded by a bevy of gentlemen stood two rare jewels, not from around this neck of the woods. He straightened his tie. “But maybe we can chat later. Who the heck are they?”

“I overheard the two young ladies are visiting family from out of town.”

He placed his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Don’t leave before I talk to you. It’s important. But right now, I think I found a dance partner.”

Will threw up his hands and shouted, “What’s more important than your best friend?”

Jonathan sauntered across the room toward the new lovelies. He eyed the raven-haired beauty with eyes that sparkled like emeralds. The young lady stepped away from her suitors as Jonathan approached. Her female companion continued to soak up the attention of the other men.

He made a grand sweeping gesture by bowing in front of her. “May I have this dance?”

The lovely woman lowered her eyelashes, then looked in his eyes. “I would love to dance.”

Jonathan knew most of the young men, and they knew him.

Back in high school, he’d been the football captain, and he’d been known to box for fun as well as winning a few extra silver dollars in the process. While a few jaws clenched, no one challenged him.

He offered her his arm and said, “My name’s Jonathan. What’s yours?”

“I’m Dagny.”

The rise and fall of the waltz ended as they stepped onto the dance floor, and a new song, “Ballin’ the Jack” began to play.

He asked, “Do you know this dance?”

“I sure do.”

The lively tune and the fun dance steps had Jonathan and Dagny laughing their heads off. Mae stood by the food table with Dale, and she looked madder than a wet hen.

At the end of the song, the orchestra leader announced a short break.

Jonathan walked Dagny back to the lads waiting their turn to dance. He bowed and kissed the back of her gloved hand. “You’re a fantastic dancer, but I don’t want to monopolize your time. Thank you for the dance.”

Dagny gave him a small curtsy. “The pleasure has been all mine.”

With a raised brow, he turned to the young men. “Play nice, fellas.”

Jonathan walked away and heard Dagny laughing in the background.

He walked toward Mae Morgan as she chatted with Doc Smith’s wife, Lizzie. If she didn’t want anything to do with him, he’d return to the lovely Dagny for another dance before finding Will then he’d call it a night.

Mae’s eyes widened as he approached. He nodded to her and turned to Lizzie. “I didn’t see Doc tonight. Is he out on calls?”

“Several of the Sprat family have come down with influenza. He wants to make sure they stay home. He’s trying to educate them on cleanliness as well as the dangers of spreading the sickness to everyone in town.”

“He’s a saint, Lizzie. Hey, would you mind terribly if I stole Miss Morgan for a minute or two?”

Laughing, Lizzie pressed her hand to her chest. “I have missed you. You need to come to town more often.” She turned to Mae while holding onto his forearm. “Watch him, Mae. He’ll steal your heart.”

He locked eyes with Mae, and his pulse raced. “Would you like to step onto the terrace for some air?”

“I would like to cool off a bit. Lizzie, please let’s get together soon. I want to hear more on the Ladies Auxiliary.”

He offered his arm, but she refused it, then turned and marched through the double glass doors, practically stomping along the way.

He snickered.

Mae stared out at the night sky. With her back to him, she said, “The girl you were dancing with is stunning. Do you think she’ll mind you’re out here with me?”

He turned her gently to face him and lifted her chin with his hand. He looked at her slightly parted lips and noticed her rapid pulse from the faint thin line of the vein along her kissable neckline. “I wanted to dance with you, but noticed you had a full dance card. So, I figured I’d dance with someone else.” He chuckled again.

She jerked away from him and narrowed her eyes. “Do I amuse you? I have to dance and be charming to all of the males in this god-awful town because my father asked me to.”

“So, what’s so god-awful about our little town?”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “After living in Atlanta, moving out here to the boondocks is like stepping back in time. I mean no disrespect, of course.”

He leaned against the stone balustrade with his arms crossed over his chest. “Of course not. See, we country folk have no idea about uppity big town manners and all, so, you’ll just have to enlighten me.”

Mae’s face softened as her dress swished back and forth on the terrace floor. Desire reflected in her eyes, and she bit her bottom lip. “I didn’t mean to disrespect the town or upset you. But my father decided to move here without even discussing it with me. I have friends in Atlanta.”

“Friends, huh? Did you leave someone special in Atlanta?” He inwardly groaned as she bit her bottom lip. “Don’t bite your lip.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “You’re fresh. Didn’t your mother teach you manners? It’s not polite to discuss those things.”

He shoved his right hand in his suit pocket. “My mom died when I was young, so I’m afraid my manners are lacking. If you give the town a chance, you may grow to like it.”

The band played, “I’m Always Chasing Rainbows.” He reached over and held her hand, rubbing his thumb across her delicate skin. “Let’s forget about manners. Dance with me.”

“Hmm. Are you going to be nice?”

He laughed. “Very nice.”

“All right then.” She nodded, and he led her onto the dance floor.

Holding Mae in his arms, staring into her sky-blue eyes, felt right.

She giggled. “I have to admit it. I believe you’re probably the best dancer in town.”

“That’s not saying much. I’d like to see you again. Let’s go on a picnic after church tomorrow.”

She leaned her face on his shoulder and sighed. “I’d like nothing better, but I have a prior engagement tomorrow. My father has invited your cousin over for lunch. He wants to develop new business with him.”

The song ended, and he ushered her to a quiet corner away from the crowd. “I’ll give you a piece of advice. Don’t trust my cousin. I won’t get into the details, but please keep your distance.”

“I wish I had a say in the matter, but I live under my father’s rules. See, my mother died too. He’s all I have in the world.”

“I know you don’t know me from Adam, but I’m warning you about Dale. He has no scruples.”

“To be honest, he gives me the creeps.”

He held her hands in his for a moment. “Hey, do you want to go for a walk now? There’s a garden below that leads to a pond. The moon is full, and I want you to myself.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Maybe we could meet in the park one day next week?”

He brushed a silky copper curl behind her ear. “I won’t be coming into town until next Friday. Will that work for you?”

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