The lost coven, p.1
The Lost Coven, page 1
part #1 of The Lost Cove Darklings Series
The Lost Coven
The Lost Cove Darklings: Book 1
Bekah Harris
Published by Twisted Vine Press.
twistedvinepress.com
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Bekah Harris
bekahharris.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Also by Bekah Harris
Iron Crown Faerie Tales Series
The Thorn Princess
Heir of Iron Hearts
Game of Shadows
Reign of Darkness
The Glass Scepter
Queen of Ice and Snow
Native Guardian Series
The Spirit Breather
The Spirit Warrior
The Spirit Battle
The Spirit Reaping
Contents
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
Epilogue
Blood Tithe: Book 2 Sneak Peak
About the Author
Chapter 1
Felicity Hawthorne leaned forward in the uncomfortable desk, propping her head on her hand as she stared out the window. A fat robin hopped among the scattering of fall leaves, its bright chest melting together with the array of gold, orange, red, and brown foliage. The sky was a brilliant azure blue without a trace of clouds, so clear Felicity was sure she could probably see the ridges all the way to the state line.
It was a crime against humanity to be stuck in school on a day like this.
Sweet Lord, deliver me from algebra.
At the front of the room, Mr. Jarnigan droned on about the identity matrix while scrawling numbers on the board in his messy hen scratch. He needed to trim his mustache, and he kept biting the too-long hairs with his bottom teeth as he waited for one of the twenty-seven aloof teenagers to answer his questions—which had yet to happen.
What was the point in even listening to him now?
Felicity had bombed her midterm, so she was already failing Algebra 2, quite miserably in fact. It was something Nan was sure to remind her of as soon as she pulled her progress report from the mailbox that afternoon. Her parents wouldn’t care as much, not about math anyway. They had always been more concerned with her language and history grades, but Nan expected her to excel in everything. It was too bad, really. She hated disappointing her grandmother. Still, there was no hope for her math grade, so there was little use in pretending she gave a crap. She groaned, wishing to be anywhere but Prosperity High as the math lecture continued.
Outside the early October sun was peeking through the canopy of trees, and the temperature was a breezy 65 degrees. Colorful prisms of light danced across the window as the ever-present mountain breeze rattled the branches. Right now, Nan was probably climbing the steep slope behind their cabin to collect the many roots and barks she harvested in the fall. Later, she would use them to make tonics and teas that could ease anything from indigestion to widespread pain. Felicity lived for harvesting with Nan, though she wasn't superstitious like her grandmother. But when it came to exploring the mountains, school was always in Felicity’s way.
A tiny airplane engineered from a blue sticky note and a couple of staples flew in for a smooth landing on her desk. Felicity eyed the room, tracing the infantile act to the three morons in the middle row, who struggled, red-faced, to hold back their violent laughter. Cody Briggs, Tim Brown, and Seth Erwin had been harassing Felicity since the bra-popping extravaganza had commenced in sixth grade once her boobs started growing. Sadly, they hadn’t done much evolving since then—the boys, at least. Her boobs had developed quite nicely—which was part of the problem.
Judging by their breathless expressions of near hyperventilation, the Three Douchekateers had outdone themselves this time. Felicity shrugged. She’d play. Why not?
Felicity unfolded the plane and turned it over to reveal a vulgar illustration involving a well-endowed stick boy and a provocatively positioned, large-breasted girl figure wearing a pointed witch hat. Flattering. Underneath the artistic masterpiece was a single question:
“Wanna ride my broomstick?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
The note was yet another example of why Felicity avoided all forms of social media and rarely handed out her cell number, even if her parents would have allowed it. She had known the boys at Prosperity High since pre-school, and honestly, she would rather clean the locker room urinals with her tongue than date any of them.
Smiling sweetly, she refolded the airplane and placed it in the crease of her open textbook. Then, aware that they were waiting for a reaction, she closed her eyes and turned her palms up, moving her lips in a mock incantation. When it had gone on long enough, she opened her eyes, delighted to find them huddled together, whispering in panic. Catching their eyes, she leaned back in her chair, staring at them with the most wicked smile she could muster and held her index finger and thumb out to them, measuring a generous centimeter or two. They grew quiet under her scrutiny and broke apart, staring down at their desks.
“Gentlemen, is there a problem?” Mr. Jarnigan demanded. He was still biting his mustache.
“Um, no,” Seth said. He continued to stare down at his desk, his mop of blond curls falling into his eyes.
“My mistake,” Mr. Jarnigan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You see, I find it unsettling when you suddenly grow silent after talking through my entire lesson and tossing notes at Miss Hawthorne.”
Suddenly, all eyes were on Felicity. Her heart stuttered, and she could feel the heat rise to her cheeks. Luckily, she had worn her palest foundation that day. With any kind of luck, the blush wouldn’t be visible.
“Felicity, are they bothering you?” Mr. Jarnigan asked.
“Not if they know what’s good for them,” she answered. She held up her thumb and forefinger to them again.
The class broke into a series of excited whispers, and the three morons looked like they might be sick. All in all, Felicity felt her delivery had been flawless. Satisfied, she leaned back in her desk. Her ass cheeks had gone numb from the hard plastic, but she tried to appear relaxed.
“I see,” Mr. Jarnigan said. “Well, if it’s all right with everyone, I’d like to continue class. Would that be okay with you, gentlemen?”
All three of them nodded automatically. With a smirk, Mr. Jarnigan continued to explain the equation on the board. Felicity’s best friend, Raven Hensley, caught her eye from her assigned seat in the front corner of the room and gave her a sly smile. Felicity winked in response. Freaking out the mainstream was their favorite form of entertainment. But, as they both knew all too well, that’s how it was when you were a misfit: an outcast.
Felicity glanced at the clock, each second ticking away with agonizing slowness. Would the bell ever ring? Suppressing a groan, she turned back to the window. She was watching the sunlight dance in colorful prisms against the glass when a movement beside the ancient oak tree caught her eye. It was just a flash of something—no, of someone—but she had seen it, if only for a second.
Dark hair.
Black clothes.
Pale skin.
Someone had been standing behind the massive trunk and leaned out a bit to peek up at the window. Felicity blinked, searching for what it could have been. Or whom. There was no one there now, but the tree was so large, it was possible whoever she saw was hidden behind its trunk. She stared intently, waiting to catch a glimpse of the person she had seen, but everything was still. Had she really seen anything at all? Was it some sort of energy that had materialized for only a moment before disappearing again? Felicity laughed at herself. Clearly, she was taking Nan’s old ghost stories way too seriously.
But still . . . she could have sworn she saw something.
She leaned closer to the window, hoping to increase her line of sight by changing her angle. Suddenly, the second period bell blared through her ears, sending her jolting to her feet. Taking a steadying breath, Felicity closed her book and slid it into her bag as the classroom cleared. She felt shaky, like she was recovering from a surge of adrenaline.
You’re losing it, dumbass. Get it together.
Raven was waiting for her outside the door. Shaking off whatever it was she had—or hadn’t—seen, Felicity swung her backpack over her shoulder, casting one last look out the window before heading towa
“You should’ve shown Jarnigan the dick pic they drew,” Raven said once they were pushing through the halls.
“Nah, I’d rather let them think I cast a spell to make their little dinky winkies shrivel up and fall off,” she said. “It’s much more entertaining than getting them suspended. Bet they won’t come near me for at least a week.”
Raven shrugged, fluffing her wild, wine-colored curls with her hand. “You’re probably right,” she whispered. “Check it out.”
She pointed at Seth, Tim, and Cody, who had stopped at their lockers. Seth pulled his girlfriend, Libby, closer to him, as if Felicity and Raven might hex them both on the spot. Libby, who had never liked Felicity—for whatever reason—glowered at them from heavily lined eyes. It wasn’t Felicity’s fault Seth flirted with her in the most disgusting way possible. Ignoring Libby’s death glare, Felicity gave them all a playful wave, and Raven licked her cherry red lips and blew them a kiss. They kept walking, not bothering to watch for a response, though she heard one of them whisper “witch bitch” as they passed.
“You’d think people around here would be more in tune with their mountain roots,” Raven said. “I mean, your Nan just knows a lot about plants and herbal remedies when it comes right down to it. It’s not like you’re even Wiccan or anything.”
“I know,” Felicity said. “I mean, Nan’s Methodist. She goes to church every Sunday. I don’t recall planting by the Farmer’s Almanac and selling natural remedies ever being deemed a religion. They all whisper behind our backs in public, but the second they have some ailment the doctors can’t treat, they’re practically knocking our door down and throwing their money in our faces.”
“Now, your parents, on the other hand,” Raven began, “I could totally believe they’re witches.”
Felicity shrugged. She couldn’t argue. Raven was fascinated with her parents, from their Hollywood looks to their Scottish accents. From an outside perspective, Felicity understood why people stared at Lochlan and Lyric Hawthorne. They were both breathtaking. Fair skin. Amazing green eyes. Her mom wore her hair in long golden waves that all the girls envied, and her dad was a silver fox with a strong jaw. They both kept in good shape with fencing—which was a weird sport anywhere, but especially in East Tennessee, where football and hiking reigned supreme. They ran the family’s storefront downtown, and Felicity knew exactly what Raven meant by her statement. Her parents stood out like runway models against a backdrop of ordinary. But to Felicity, they were just her mom and dad. Beautiful, yes, but, like a lot of parents, they were overprotective worrywarts who kept a close watch on her every move.
“You’re so lucky, though,” Raven said. “Being a foster kid sucks. I’d give my left ovary for your parents to adopt me and teach me all their ancient ways.”
“If your mom would sign over her parental rights, they would,” Felicity said. “No ovary required. In a heartbeat.”
It was true. Her mom and dad had been discussing it with Nan since they caught Felicity sneaking extra rolls from the dinner table to bring to Raven at school in fifth grade. It was the first time her mom had realized Raven was being neglected. Not long after that, Felicity’s best friend had been taken away from her mother and placed with another family. It became a painful cycle after that. Raven’s mother would disappear for a while and then show up and pass all her drug tests and get Raven back only to relapse again, leaving Raven with yet another foster family.
Meth and opioids were deadlier than guns in Appalachia, and Felicity had a feeling that one day, Raven’s mother would be yet another life claimed.
Felicity and her parents had talked about taking Raven into their home on a permanent basis, but ultimately, her mom and dad had decided the uncertainty and inconsistency would be too heartbreaking to bear. Felicity had disagreed, and it had always been a source of tension between them.
“The Rices aren’t bad, though, right?” Felicity asked. This last placement seemed to be a good one. “I mean, you’d tell me if you weren’t okay, wouldn’t you?”
The Rices owned a popular antique store downtown, and they were both members of the Prosperity Glen Historical Society. Joe was a deacon at the local Baptist Church, and Amy taught third grade. They had never had any children of their own, and they had a great house in the historic district. It was the nicest place Raven had ever stayed.
Raven nodded. “They’re okay. They’re taking me on a cruise this summer. If—and I emphasize if—Mom doesn’t sober up and screw it all up before it can happen. I guess I’m just waiting for my life to be blown all to hell again.”
Raven laughed bitterly, the sound of it sinking sharp claws into Felicity’s heart. If she could sacrifice her own left ovary to make Raven’s life easier, she wouldn’t even have to think about it.
“Where are you cruising to?” Felicity asked.
Raven listed several possibilities, including Bermuda and Cancun, before her words merged like a blur, swimming in a dull echo through Felicity’s mind until they faded altogether.
What the hell?
Felicity scanned the hall. All the noise had suddenly gone out of the entire space, as if she had lost the ability to hear. A high-pitched squeal like the feedback from a microphone blared in her ears, causing her to cringe, until that sound, too, faded away.
Felicity cleared her throat, felt the tickle of it, but it made zero sound.
What was wrong with her? Was she losing her hearing? Her mind?
Her eyes darted from person to person, hoping to hear something, anything. Frantically, Felicity searched the hallway for some sign that someone else had been affected. But Raven’s mouth was still moving, as she prattled silently away. Students slammed locker doors, dropped books, zipped backpacks, and hurried through the halls. Couples made out against walls, and teachers sipped coffee as they complained about their classes with bleak expressions. Felicity knew the drill. She heard it every day, but in that moment, there was no sound to accompany the familiar sights.
The fine hairs on the nape of her neck rose with an electric tingle. She stopped abruptly, causing Raven to run into her. Then, feeling as if someone were watching her, Felicity turned around. At the end of the hall, just outside the main office, was a tall guy—someone she’d never seen before.
Unlike anyone she’d ever seen before.
Though she couldn’t hear the exhale, Felicity felt the air leave her lungs in a shaky breath.
Lean and pale, his ashen skin popped like some gothic dream against spiky hair as black and glossy as a crow’s feather. He wore some sort of velvet vest with a white ruffled shirt, like some reject from a Cosplay convention. His pants were adorned with unnecessary buckles and disappeared into calf-high combat boots that made her wonder if he had just stepped out of a steampunk novel. Sharp cheekbones protruded from his face, and his dark eyes settled on Felicity, as if she were the only person in the hall. As if they could devour her as long as neither of them broke the connection.
Her heart picked up its pace, hammering a sharp staccato in her chest.
The figure that had moved beside the oak tree swam through her memory. Was this who she had seen? She couldn’t be certain since she had only caught a glimpse of him, but she felt positive they were one in the same.
“Who is that?” Felicity asked, though she couldn’t hear her own voice. She tapped Raven on the shoulder and repeated the question.
Raven’s brows were wrinkled as her mouth moved. Then, just as quickly as the sensation had come on, the normal buzz of the hallway blared in Felicity’s ears once more, causing her to jump.
