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Hayle Coven Inheritance

I’m an international, multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in my head. As a singer, songwriter, independent filmmaker and improv teacher and performer, my life has always been about creating and sharing what I create with others. Now that my dream to write for a living is a reality, with over a hundred titles in happy publication and no end in sight, I live in beautiful Prince Edward Island, Canada, with my giant cats, pug overlord and overlady and my Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn. The Challenge “Jagger Santos,” Coradine said, voice singsong and trying to be endearing while I gagged a little over her cutsie attempt to be coy. So gross. “This is the one I was telling you about.” He didn’t look at her, his hunger for the fight apparent. “Ethie Hayle,” he said, deep voice full of daggers. “I’ve been looking forward to this.” I could have said no. Just turned on my heel and left, walked away, got the hell out of there. Should have. It was one thing to fight my own coven for “fun” occasionally. A way to let off steam, to expend some of my pent up anger in a reasonably safe way that ensured if they didn’t like me, they at least stayed out of my way. But a witch from another territory? The Santos coven wasn’t exactly on GreatGram’s favorite list, either. This could only end badly. Ethie Hayle has spent her whole life sheltered by the coven, her powerful family and the fear that an unknown enemy could, at any moment, leap out of the veil and hurt her. Talk about smothering when all she wants is to have the freedoms her oh-so-special brother, Gabriel, seems to take for granted. But when a strange woman appears and offers her a gift, Ethie discovers the concerns her mother and great-grandmother have harbored aren’t all that ridiculous after all and that there are powers in the Universe she can’t imagine…

Patti Larsen · Kỳ huyễn
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Chapter 7: Who's Asking?

We both held still a long time, me gaping and trying to sort out what to do or say and she just staring with a faint smile on her lined face. Her thick, black hair had been pulled back, a kerchief rolled and tied around the front, though impossible to hide the strips of white in all that curly darkness. Her t-shirt had a rude gesture on it, a fist with the middle finger extended, making me snort ever so slightly out of amused surprise.

She grinned in response to my reaction, waving one hand before sliding off the bonnet, her boots making a thudding sound on the pavement. She felt old to me, almost ancient, but there was a lightness to her, to her movements and her step as she cocked her head to one side that made my brain hurt trying to justify the duality.

"Ethie Hayle," she said, voice a little rusty. "How was your walk?"

How did she know my name? She wasn't a witch, though she didn't feel like just a sorcerer, either, something off about her. And while I might have been angry with my family, they were my family. No matter what I said, I was Hayle enough and my loyalty ingrained in my blood enough immediate suspicion she might be a threat to the coven stiffened my back.

"Who's asking?" I did my best to use GreatGram's no-nonsense tone. For some reason, that just made the woman laugh.

Something swooped from the sky, making me flinch, settling on her shoulder. It wasn't until the sleek, black crow cawed at me before flipping his wings to smooth them out that I relaxed a little, hating she'd seen my nerves. She whispered softly to him, stroking his head which he bent to her so she could smooth his feathers, a small patch of white of his own over his right brow.

"How like Ethpeal you sound." So I got the tone right. Good for me. And this woman obviously knew GreatGram, so that helped me lose some of my fear, too. Still, if that was the case, what was she doing out here instead of coming inside and visiting? Or calling GreatGram out to see her? Something was definitely off. "You're a Hayle through and through, or so they say."

"Who are 'they'?" I should have just turned around and went home, told GreatGram about the encounter and forgot about my rebellion. But this was the first real interaction I'd had with someone outside the coven in a long time and I wasn't ready to retreat just yet. Besides, she wasn't threatening and didn't feel dangerous. Just weird. Weird, well, that I could handle.

Besides, I was a Hayle witch. Not like she had much of a chance against me if it came to a fight.

"Henry and I have been dying to meet you." She stroked the crow's head again and he clattered his beak together as if in answer. "Just dying." She cackled then, a grating sound that raised the hairs on the backs of my arms.

"If you have business with the coven," I said, deciding official was the best way to go, "I'm sure Ethpeal and Mom would be happy to talk to you. At the house." I gestured behind me, toward the barrier to our territory.

The woman made no move to respond. If anything, she acted like I hadn't spoken. "Ethpeal has been a fool," she said, voice going from gravelly and thick to soft, kind, even. And I felt myself soften just slightly. "But with you the most foolish of all. She's been going about your training all wrong."

I shook off the odd sensation that urged me to pay attention, that wanted me to like this woman. Was it sorcery? But no, there was no way she could influence me. I was just tired and looking for someone to care and for whatever reason, this strange woman seemed to know which of my many buttons to push.

"And you have that kind of knowledge how?" I crossed my arms over my chest, raising one eyebrow, channeling Mom, now. Sarcasm was her favorite and I'd learned to love it, too.

The woman shrugged, petting her crow and smiling at me. "I just wanted you to know you have someone on your side. And that the Hayle coven isn't the be all and end all."

Before I could muster up any kind of reply, she reached into the pocket of her skirt and threw something in my direction. It arched through the air, seemed to hold in place a moment in the moonlight as if suspended, winking a glitter of polished metal. And then it fell, tinkling to the ground, bouncing on the pavement and skittering to my feet. I glanced down at it, recognizing the shape as a large, gold locket on a thick chain before looking up to the sound of a door slamming. She was already in the car, the engine roaring to life, the old boat of an antique spinning around and driving away on squealing tires while I stood there, trembling and trying to decide if this was a dream or some sort of strange encounter that would make sense three years from now.

She was long gone, the sound of her engine backfiring in the distance, before I looked down again. The gold locket seemed to sparkle again though I'd returned my vision to normal sight. It was in my hand, my fingers brushing over the asphalt when I scooped it into my hand, but the instant it settled in my palm I shivered. Not because there was anything wrong with it, or magical or anything. To the contrary. It looked like some kind of antique, like the old woman herself, her car. But it repulsed me, the feeling of it empty and normal, so normal I could barely stand it.

I pivoted on one sock, the fabric catching on sharp bits of asphalt and pulling the seam askew. Didn't matter, I wasn't paying attention. I needed to get this thing as far from me as I could. I threw it as hard as I could into the woods at the side of the road, hearing it impact a branch or two before striking the ground. The crickets had fallen silent, waking again as I stood there, breathless and trying to decide what to do, their soothing song slumping my shoulders and making me tired.

All the anger drained from me, I turned and headed back into my territory, heart heavy, knowing I was going to be the sucker, the bigger person, that is, and apologize or something stupid just so they would let me back in.

Hayle, a sharp, feminine voice so familiar I immediately stopped in my tracks, a bare stride inside our territory.

Coradine. What did she want? The daughter of one of the newer families in the coven, she didn't like me. Never had, never would. And the feeling was mutual.

The old site, she sent. Challenge accepted?

A witch battle. We were forbidden from them, of course. Which never stopped us, least of all me. And in the mood I was in...?

I was already on the move, all the anger and need to do something, anything, surging back into my chest in a wave of roaring demon fire.

On my way, I sent, stumbling as I jerked at my sock to straighten it, uncaring my footwear left me in a ridiculous position. Because wet feet or not, I had some energy to expend and this was the perfect opportunity.

A fight. Illegal, stupid and exactly what I needed.

***