Prologue 

 

The beautiful young woman strolled through the bar and sat on the rough leather stool with its fair share of black grunge left on it. She let her thick red curls flow down her exposed back before pulling it to the side and draping it over her lithe shoulder, letting all the gawking men get a glimpse of what was underneath her sleek forest green halter top.

“What will you be having?” The bartender asked as he set a coaster down in front of her.

“Gin and Tonic,” she replied in a flirtatious tone. 

He was not the one she was after, but she wanted to appear available for when the one she was waiting for showed up. The bartender looked her over and licked his lips before pulling out the bottle of gin from beneath the counter and pouring it into a glass with ice. He topped it off with tonic water and added a lime to the rim, slowly sliding it over to her. 

“Thanks,” she said, flirtatiously smiling up at him.

“Can I get you anything else?” He was implying something more, such as himself served up in the back room. 

“I’m fine,” she said with a wink before turning around to face the room. 

The bartender waited a moment before moving on to another customer. She scoped out the collection of people inside. A handful of fishermen and a few other day laborers were in for a drink after a hard day’s work. One or two were attractive, but most of the others were older than she was looking for. 

She had come to Bellingham almost two weeks ago and started her search, scouring several bars and event halls looking for the right target. She was looking for a robust and attractive man with some book smarts. A week ago, she found the perfect mark. A tall man named Jeff who worked as a city planner. His short-cut chocolate brown hair and deep green eyes instantly attracted the woman. After spotting him at the bar, she returned each night to learn his habits. He was a regular there, coming in every evening after work to have a few beers before heading home for the night. After being sure that he was the one she wanted, she dressed herself up and came to the bar ready to lure him to her hotel room. 

She waited, eager but nervous. She had only done this once before, four years ago. It was exhilarating and a fun break from her everyday life. For a few days, she could pretend that she was someone else. She thrived on the thrill. 

Out of her peripheral vision, she noticed she had caught the eye of another man. He was older. She put him around fifty or so with his greying hair and growing wrinkles. His eyes roamed over her body as if it were a dessert that needed to be consumed. A shiver ran up her spine, and she turned away from him, not wanting to lead him on. She sipped her drink and looked at the clock. The man should be getting off of work about now. He would be there soon, and it would be time for her to work her charms on him.

She polished off her drink before walking to the restroom to freshen up her makeup. She looked in the dirty mirror and applied her brick-red lipstick as she heard the door open. She glanced over and saw the creepy man from the far side of the bar. Her body froze.

“This is the ladies’ room,” she said sternly, wanting to steer him back the way he came.

“It is?” he replied as if dumbfounded, an obvious rouse. 

She turned to look him in the eye, wanting to project as much confidence as she could muster. 

“It is, and it's best that you head back out the way you came.”

“I will,” he said with a cocky smile. “I just happened to see you out there, and what my luck to have stumbled upon you here.”

“You mean, after you followed me in?” she stared at him hard.

“Oh, nothing like that. I just got mixed up…but while I’m here, perhaps a lady like yourself is looking for a good time? One I would be happy to help you with.”

“No, sorry. I’m not interested. Now leave,” she said more forcefully. 

“Okay, okay. I get the hint,” he raised his hands defensively, yet his voice still unsettled her.

He turned back to the door. The woman's body began to relax with the threat seemingly leaving. That was until she heard the click of a lock. Her eyes widened, and she watched him turn back to face her. There was no more playfulness in his eyes, just a lustful evil that raked down her body. 

“Last chance before I scream,” she hissed at him.

“The band is starting up. It might be hard for them to hear you, sweetheart. We both know what you came here for. Why don’t you just accept that it will be with me, and we can both leave here  happy.”

He took a step towards her. She dropped her lipstick, throwing her hand up at him. The man who had been standing a good ten feet away from her flew into the door, knocking the air out of his lungs, but he stayed on his feet. He looked at her stunned before turning angry. He stormed at her again; this time, when she threw her hand at him, he jumped to the side, and only his shoulder was struck. He pulled a metal pipe out of his waistband and brandished it against the fearful woman. 

She screamed, but as he noted, the band had begun playing. A steady, loud beat reverberated off the walls, muting her sounds outside of the restroom. He neared her, and she tossed her hand once more. The man flew into the sink and fell to the ground.

“You bitch. I was going to make it good for you, but now I will have to make you pay for this.” 

He pulled himself back up as she ran for the door, continuing to scream out for help. She unlocked the door and began to pull it open when she felt a hard crack in her skull. She fell hard to the ground, squinting her eyes in pain, finding everything a blur. She took in a few deep breaths, trying to gain some composure. Grabbing ahold of the handle to the door, she began pulling herself up, only to be hit again and again. 

Her body was riddled with pain, and her mind spun when she felt her pants being undone and yanked down her legs. She tried with everything she had to push her assailant off of her, but with one final hit to the face, her world turned dark, and she felt her life slipping through her fingers. The last thought she had was of her three-year-old daughter, Juniper. With her last living breath, she mustered one last chant to the world.

Le m’ anail mu dheireadh, bidh mi a’ cur thugad mo phàiste, mo chumhachd agus mo neart gu lèir. Great Selene, ar màthair agus ar dìonadair, cùm sùil air an Juniper agam.

As her prayers to the great Selene to protect her daughter were cast into the universe, she felt the last flicker of her light dwindle and leave her body.

 

 

Chapter 1

 

Nineteen Years Later

 

~ Juniper ~

 

I walked through the meadow full of vibrant wildflowers. A mix of floral scents filled my nostrils and brought me a sense of calm and peace. I held my hand out, gliding it across the tops of the plants around me. I glanced to my right and found what I was looking for. I leaned down to inspect the small, beautiful magenta flowers before me. I picked a few stalks of the catchfly flower and added them to the handkerchief inside the satchel that hung around my waist. They had a sticky sap I did not want to clean out of the leather pouch later if it could be prevented. With the increased number of children as of late, we had used our supply and needed to replenish. It worked wonders in promoting a good milk supply. I was happy to volunteer to travel out to the meadow in search of the flowers. After taking my time, I collected a good allotment we would dry upon my return and store until needed. 

I strolled back through the thick, lush forest, following the thin trail back to the settlement, stopping once or twice to observe the birds nesting in the nearby trees. I whistled back their tune as if I could speak to them, though they only returned the gestures in my imagination. While I was out, I decided to check the creek beds for algae. Aunt Iris had a fantastic spell she concocted using the slimy green substance that kept your skin as smooth as a baby’s. I scraped up a few handfuls worth and slid it into a jar before continuing on my way once more. 

“Juniper, where have you been?”

I had just broken off of the trail, coming into the main part of our village, when I heard my best friend Meadow call out to me from across the lush green grass that filled the center of the settlement, a collection of houses and buildings that belonged to the Whisper Creek Coven, my home. 

“Hey, Meadow,” I replied, smiling at her and picking up my pace so I would not need to shout at her. “I went out to the north meadow to collect some catchfly.”

“You should have let me know! I would have gone with you.”

“I peeked in your house, but your ma had you busy scrubbing the pots again.”

“Ugh, every day! I spend more time cleaning her pots than any other chore.”

“So I take it business is good?”

“Yeah, the online sales have been going crazy! And the demand in town has picked up too,” she said.

I laughed at her unamused expression as I started to lead us further into the settlement. 

“We all pitch in. She has a great thing going,” I tried to encourage her.

“But why do I have to be the dishwasher?”

I laughed at her again and let her complain to me as we walked past the cottages that composed our village. I always felt like our little community looked straight out of a fairy tale in one of my childhood books. A simple little village built entirely out of stone and dark timber. Each structure nestled into the tall trees that made up the surrounding forest. Every house had its own garden out front that was fenced in and accessible through a small wooden gate. The center of our settlement was covered with a sea of deep green grass with little purple flowers scattered throughout. A large fire pit we used for celebrations and gatherings sat centrally flanked only by a few log benches and picnic-style tables. A small stream flowed over colorful, rounded pebbles to the east of the fire pit, bringing a harmonic, peaceful sound to the area. A little wooden bridge was built over it, connecting the two shores. 

Our people were strongly connected to the earth as we were elemental witches. Here, we could connect to each element and harness its energy. Six families comprised our coven. After fleeing the old country, our great-great-grandmothers all flocked to the northern wildernesses of Washington. They had been chased out by religious groups in the area, having been accused of devil magic, something I didn’t even think existed. They knew as soon as they found this land that this was where we were meant to be. They used everything they had to buy the surrounding twelve thousand acres over a century ago, building their first homes by hand little by little. Each generation added to those original homes, updating and maintaining them along the way. Those buildings still stood and have become home to the family matriarchs, as well as a gathering place for each family and their collection of trinkets and heirlooms. Over time, with our population growing, additional houses were built. Families would build smaller cottages close to their ancestral homes. 

Today there are just over ninety of us, all women, as witches are only born female. Due to this, the women of my coven must take a journey into the human world when they wish to become with child. They cast fertility spells upon themselves and searched for a strong man to impregnate them, disappearing before any attachments could be made or that anything beyond a one-night stand had happened. It was not hard to find willing men. Sex seemed to be the only thing on their mind. There were strict rules never to bring one of them back here. This was our safe haven from the outside world, and the elders did not want to bring any bad energy into our space. 

We walked up to our family home on the far side of the compound and went inside. The warm air circulating through the room and the strong smell of herbs was like a comforting embrace, welcoming us home. I lived in the main house of our family with my Gran, along with some of my mother’s cousins and my Great Aunt Violet. She was the eldest matriarch in the coven and leader of the elders. Most of my cousins lived in separate homes with their mothers or had little cottages where they lived with their children. Had my mother not been murdered when I was only three, I would still be living in our tiny home that sat tucked back into the forest. I have often considered moving there to have some independence, but it would not be approved by the rest of the coven. No one lived alone. 

“Ah, Juniper, I’m glad you're back. Were you able to find some catchfly?” my grandmother asked me. 

“I did, and I also got some algae while I was out,” I said as I set my satchel on the wooden counter in the center of the kitchen and pulled out its contents.

“That’s my girl,” she said softly, comfortingly. 

Meadow and I sat at two stools on the far side of the counter and watched my grandmother walk over and inspect the ingredients I had foraged before preparing them to dry. She bunched the catchfly into small bundles and tied them together with some twine before disappearing into the pantry, where we hung herbs to dry. She returned, added the algae to a jar of liquid, and tucked it into a cabinet. Once everything was stored away, she resumed her original task, kneading dough for bread she was preparing for dinner. I looked over the herbs she had out, noting thyme and rosemary.

“I have some big news!” Meadow nearly shouted. 

Both my grandma and I looked over at her excited expression. She seemed as if she would burst if she did not spill the beans soon. 

“What is it?” I asked her with a grin. 

It was hard not to smile when Meadow was around. Her excited personality filled any room with light and happiness. 

“Wren is asking the elders if she can travel!”

My grandmother stopped kneading the dough and asked her, “Is she wanting a child?”

“Yes! It would be my first niece!”

“That’s wonderful news,” my Gran smiled, the fine lines of her wrinkles creasing her eyes. 

“What about Willow?” I asked about her eldest sister. 

She was twenty-eight, two years older than Wren.

“She doesn’t care. I don’t think she will ever want children.”

“Each of us gets to make that choice, Juniper,” my Gran added.

I rolled my eyes at the added lesson my Gran felt I needed. I had always wanted a child, but it was encouraged to wait until you were older, at least twenty-five, though a few had their children younger. They wanted us to be fully versed in our skills before venturing outside the settlement. The elders had wards in place to protect us and to keep our gifts hidden from the rest of the world. They feared that we would be driven off of our land once again. We were still allowed to go to town every so often, but it usually had to be under the supervision of one of the older generations. I enjoyed going with Heather, Meadow’s mother, when she dropped off her shipments. She would allow us to go shopping and even catch a movie from time to time. 

Most of the coven shied away from technology, but it was slowly becoming more tolerated. Heather was one of the leading advocates for it, showing the elders how we can use it to profit from their tinctures. She had set up an online company and had a bustling business that most of the coven helped out with now. I liked to think my mother would have been similar to her if she were still alive. My Gran told me stories from when she was young. She was known for constantly pushing the boundaries. 

“When is she asking them?” I directed back to Meadow.

“Tomorrow night.” 

“That’s so exciting for her. Does she know where she wants to go?”

“She was thinking Bellingham.”

“Not that city,” My Gran said as she quickly turned away.

Even though she tried to hide it, I still caught her concern. Ever since my mother’s death, she has been wary of larger towns and cities, none more so than Bellingham. 

“Magnolia, Bellingham is a safe city,” Meadow said, already knowing where her fear stemmed from. Would she address an elder by first name only?

Everyone knew of my mother’s demise. She was raped and killed in the bathroom of some dive bar. She had gone to find another suitor. My Gran told me how excited she was to give me a sister with whom I could share my life. 

After her death, most were scared to leave our protected lands for a long time. There was even a gap in births. As time went on, though, the urge to have children became too strong, and the women of our coven began going in pairs. After a decade, things finally started to return to normal, and the women who wished to find a suitor would take the journey on their own. They all realized that the process itself was a journey only the individual could pursue. When you traveled in pairs, the other often had too much input or thoughts that interfered, taking away from the experience. 

“You may say so, but it will always be the place my daughter was murdered. I will take it up with the elders,” she said determinedly as she returned to her kneading. 

Her fists pushed the gooey dough roughly. I had never seen her so outwardly angry.