Witch's Nocturne, Moonsongs Episode 2

Witch's Nocturne, Moonsongs Episode 2: Pt. 5 - A Dangerous Companion

Later that night, Marshal and I were back in our pedestrian little town, sitting at my simple dining room table, sipping plain black coffee, and pondering the infinitely complex ball of shit my life had morphed into.

Okay, there were some awesome, double-stuffed cookies to nosh on, too. But that small extravagance certainly wasn’t providing any clear solutions.

We had one week to come up with a plan to stop a bunch of angry witches from killing my town. All over some vendetta they had against my family. Although I hadn’t refused the extra two hundred bucks when Sarah handed it to me, I would’ve helped her even without the money.

I was a Moonsong now, by blood and spirit. My family had triggered all of this, so it was my fight, too.

And Sarah’s idea for saving the day did have some merit. The spell was complex, and could only be performed during a Blood Moon, which occurred once a year. They’d also need several witches to pull it off. She believed there were other members of the coven who were reluctant to follow through with such an extreme act. They just weren’t as headstrong as Sarah—that I didn’t have a hard time believing. They were also afraid of the coven’s new leader.

According to Sarah, the coven had originally been a group of outcasts, people on the fringe of society who had no interest in mingling with others. Since Felicia’s murder, they’d worked to be more mainstream, and open. I could certainly see how having your leader burned might promote a little more peaceful coexistence.

This new lady had taken over a few months ago, and wanted things to go back to the older ways. She believed the coven could only survive if they were feared, maybe even revered, by normal people. For her, avenging the death of the witch Grandpa had killed was the first step. That’s when Sarah bailed from the coven, and she thought others wanted to as well.

We could stop the madness, Sarah reasoned, with a little good old fashion diplomacy, and some backup from the feared Moonsong hunter. If we couldn’t talk them out of killing off my town, we’d go to a more physical approach. Which involved me, and was something I actually thought I could handle … with the help of a sidearm and my tomahawk, of course.

Eventually, I had agreed. We might just be able to stop all of this.

Back in my kitchen, staring at the brown dregs of coffee drifting in the bottom of my third cup, I wasn’t so sure.

“How the hell am I going to put a stop to this?” I asked, letting my head thud to the table. A question more for myself than Marshal.

He responded all the same. “The more we see, the more I think your grandfather was right. You’re meant to do this kind of thing. I mean someone has to, right? How many other tragedies have been caused by forces we don’t know about? My parents used to talk about the Jonestown mass suicide in the late seventies—like nine hundred people died. Who’s to say that wasn’t instigated by a spell or something?”

I shrugged, not overly encouraged by his pep talk, even if I did think he was right. He passed me the last cookie from the package. I took it.

“We’ll just have to figure it out as we go,” he said, his voice calm and assured, like we were discussing who would load the dishwasher after dinner.

“So you are coming with me.” I said, a little ashamed at the comfort I felt with the thought.

Marshal gave a dry mock-laugh.

“Nope. I told you, I’ve got CME training in Mason Springs that day. I won’t be back until late.”

“I thought you were joking about that. You can’t take off work to save our town? Seriously?”