Solstice web, p.1
Solstice Web, page 1
SOLSTICE WEB
MOONSHADOW BAY
BOOK 10
YASMINE GALENORN
A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication
Published by Yasmine Galenorn
PO Box 2037, Kirkland WA 98083-2037
SOLSTICE WEB
A Moonshadow Bay Novel
Copyright © 2023 by Yasmine Galenorn
First Electronic Printing: 2023 Nightqueen Enterprises LLC
First Print Edition: 2023 Nightqueen Enterprises
WEB OF DANGER
A Moonshadow Bay Novella
Second Electronic Printing: 2023 Nightqueen Enterprises LLC
First Print Edition: 2023 Nightqueen Enterprises LLC
Cover Art & Design: Ravven
Art Copyright: Yasmine Galenorn
Editor: Elizabeth Flynn
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED No part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any format, be it print or electronic or audio, without permission. Please prevent piracy by purchasing only authorized versions of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, or places is entirely coincidental and not to be construed as representative or an endorsement of any living/ existing group, person, place, or business.
A Nightqueen Enterprises LLC Publication
Published in the United States of America
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Welcome to Solstice Web
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
Web of Danger
Playlist
Biography
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Welcome back to January Jaxon’s world—the world of Moonshadow Bay.
Thanks to my usual crew: Samwise, my husband, Andria and Jennifer—without their help, I’d be swamped. To the women who have helped me find my way in indie, you’re all great, and thank you to everyone. To my wonderful cover artist, Ravven, for the beautiful work she’s done. Thanks to my best friend Carol Shannon, one of the most remarkable and magickal women I know.
Also, my love to my furbles, who keep me happy. My heart is over the rainbow with my Rainbow Girls, and here in the present with our current babies. My most reverent devotion to Mielikki, Tapio, Ukko, Rauni, and Brighid, my spiritual guardians and guides. My love and reverence to Herne, and Cernunnos, and to the Fae, who still rule the wild places of this world. And a nod to the Wild Hunt, which runs deep in my magick, as well as in my fiction.
You can find me through my website at Galenorn.com and be sure to sign up for my newsletter to keep updated on all my latest releases and to access the VIP section of my website, which has all sorts of perks on it! You gain extra content by joining my Patreon, and can find my advice on writing, discussions about the books, and general ramblings on my YouTube Channel and my blog. If you liked this book, I’d be grateful if you’d leave a review—it helps more than you can think.
Brightest Blessings,
~The Painted Panther~
~Yasmine Galenorn~
WELCOME TO SOLSTICE WEB
It’s December, two years since I returned to Moonshadow Bay, and I’m about to marry Killian on the Winter Solstice. In the past two years, I’ve fought ghosts and urban legends, and each time I’ve come out triumphant. Now, with the curse on the women of my family lifted, I can look forward to a long life doing what I love most, with the people I love best. And our work at Conjure Ink has been thankfully quiet.
But a new threat arises to threaten not only the town, but the region.
The Covenant of Chaos has been growing in strength, and one of their most dangerous agents—Mills McFarland—moves to town. The Court Magika charges the Crystal Cauldon with protecting Moonshadow Bay from him. But we find ourselves facing yet another problem that could prove deadly when one of our members falls under Mills’s spell. Now we must not only find a way to protect the town, but rescue our friend and coven-mate from the Covenant of Chaos. All in the days leading up to my wedding!
Reading Order for the Moonshadow Bay Series:
Book 1: Starlight Web
Book 2: Midnight Web
Book 3: Conjure Web
Book 4: Harvest Web
Book 5: Shadow Web
Book 6: Weaver’s Web
Book 7: Crystal Web
Book 8: Witch’s Web
Book 9: Cursed Web
Book 10: Solstice Web
Book 11: Dreamer’s Web (forthcoming)
CHAPTER ONE
I couldn’t believe my eyes. I turned to one side, then to the other, shaking my head. I’d never felt so beautiful in my life as I did now.
“Do you like it?” Mandy asked. She had a cat-who-ate-the-canary look on her face.
“Like it? I love it. If I didn’t love Killian so damned much, I’d marry the dress,” I said.
Mandy was head of the local Renaissance Faire Society, and she was also a brilliant seamstress. I’d been at my wit’s end, trying to find the right wedding dress, when my grandmother, Rowan, suggested that I ask Mandy if she could make me something.
With less than a month to go, Mandy had done the impossible. She had created a dress that I never dreamed I could find. And today was the last fitting. Tears in my eyes—joyful ones—I stared at my reflection.
The dress wasn’t a ren-faire dress, but Mandy’s sewing skills had birthed the perfect dress. It wasn’t what I had thought I’d want, let alone love, but it met every box on the list.
With a sweetheart neckline, the strapless corset bodice fitted snugly to my waist, then flared out in pleated panels. The court train was modest—trailing about eighteen inches behind me. The dress kissed the floor with an extra inch to spare in the front.
The design was deceptively simple, but what gave it the power punch was the rich black velvet of the gown. The bodice laced up the back, and the front was dappled with white lace appliques of flowers and vines that extended in several places down the front of the skirt. The decorative design covered the left side of the dress and then circled the lower third of the skirt and train around the back in a semi-circle.
Mandy carried over the velvet capelet to match. We wanted to have the wedding outdoors if it was clear enough. But clear or not, I didn’t want to freeze my ass off standing in the snow. The capelet extended to my elbows, and I’d be wearing black opera-length fingerless gloves beaded with tiny white seed pearls. I wasn’t going to wear a veil—I didn’t like the meaning of it, for one thing, but I’d be wearing a wreath of red roses, ferns, and baby’s breath to match my bouquet. A little retro? Yes, but I loved the pairing, and that was all that mattered.
“You’ve outdone yourself. Everything fits like…well, like it was made for me. Both the dress and the capelet.” I held my hand against the material and the white gold of my engagement ring shimmered. The black velvet set off the glacial blue of the center diamond. “It’s perfect.”
“I’m so glad you like it. Everything feels comfortable?”
I nodded. “Yes. Made to order! I’m so relieved that I’m not getting married in a murder-dress.” I hadn’t realized how much the prospect had been weighing on my mind. The vintage dress I had bought in July was lovely, but the original bride had been murdered in it and her ghost had come with the dress. I had solved her murder and freed her spirit, but after I realized that the dress had been through a tragic crime, wearing it to my wedding seemed to be asking for trouble.
“If there’s nothing else, let’s get you undressed and I’ll have my assistant pack it up for you.” She removed the capelet and then unzipped the back—I’d asked her to skip all the tiny buttons and lacing and install a hidden zipper instead. While it didn’t seem as romantic, it made the dress much easier to slip on, and I wanted to be able to wear the gown again to some formal occasions, like the balls given by the Royal Order of the Wand and Sword.
I reluctantly stepped out of the dress and began to change into my street clothes as she handed the dress off to her assistant. I zipped up my knee-length circle skirt and pulled on my V-neck sweater, then sat down to put on my knee-high leather boots. When I was dressed, I came out of the changing room that was one of the bedrooms in Mandy’s house, and crossed to her desk. The dress was hanging on a rack, covered in a waterproof zipped bag that would protect it from water damage, cat fur, and almost anything else I could imagine.
I sat on the opposite side of her desk and pulled out my wallet. “I’m ready to settle up.” I’d paid half in advance, and was paying the balance today. As she took my card and ran it through her app on her phone, I glanced over in the corner. There, staring at Mandy with a loving expression, was an older woman. I caught the ghost’s eye and smiled. She gasped and hurried over to me. It was then that I noticed the resemblance between Mandy and the woman.
Please, would you tell my granddaughter that I love her? And that her mother’s sorry—so sorry about what she did?
I hesitated. I had no clue what Mandy would think if I relayed the message. If I began talking to the air, Mandy would know that either someone was around or she’d think I was nuts. But she gave me the perfect opening.
“I’m sorry about your grandmother. I heard about the plane crash and didn’t realize sh
“Thank you. It was a shock. Nonnie was on her way to visit me.” I paused, then said, “Do you get to see your grandparents much?” I tucked the invoice in my purse.
“One of my grandmas—the one who’s still alive—lives in Texas. I haven’t seen her for a while. We aren’t that close. My other grandma died last year. She raised me after my mother killed herself.” Mandy worried her lip, her voice husky. “I miss her so much. She took care of me. She was the one who taught me how to sew.”
It was always hard to know whether to tell someone about a ghost, but I glanced over at Grandma Ghost and she gave me a gentle nod as she walked up behind Mandy and placed her hands on Mandy’s shoulders.
“I feel her with me a lot,” Mandy said. “Like…right now I’d swear she’s nearby. I know that sounds silly. Maybe it’s just that I miss her so much.” She reached for a tissue and blew her nose.
“Actually, it doesn’t sound silly at all. I’m witchblood and I specialize in ghosts, you might say. Your grandmother is standing right behind you and she asked me to give you a message.” I waited. If she said she didn’t want to hear it, I wouldn’t press the message.
Mandy froze, staring at me. “You can see her? You can talk to her?”
“I can.” Turning to the ghost, I asked, “What’s your name?”
Lanora. Tell her that I’m always happy when I see her wearing the pearls I left her.
“Mandy, your grandmother’s name is Lanora, right? She wants you to know that she’s always happy to see you wearing the pearls she left you.” I knew I was spot-on when Mandy’s hesitation broadened into a huge smile.
“That’s Nan! I always feel her near me when I wear those pearls. Can you ask her some questions for me?” She sounded so hopeful, I couldn’t say no.
“What would you like to know?”
“Does she…has she found my mother? I never knew why she killed herself and I’ve always thought it was because of me.”
The pain in her voice hit me right between the eyes. Along with the chronic migraines I had developed thanks to a condition called energy reflux syndrome—ERS—my empathic skills had increased and it made it problematic to be around people who were highly upset. Their pain could trigger a migraine.
Energy reflux syndrome only afflicted certain members of the witchblood, and I was unlucky enough to be one of them. Given I had mostly been prevented from using or learning about my magic when I was younger, the energy had backed up and bingo, overloaded my magical circuits—so to speak—and they went haywire. That led to me developing ERS. There was no cure, though I could manage it. But it had changed my life in too many ways.
I turned to the ghost. “Have you talked to her mother? Mandy really needs to know why her mother left her.”
“Abandoned,” Mandy said, but I chose to ignore it.
After a moment, Nan’s voice came through loud and clear. Yes, I’ve talked to Beverly. She was a very troubled woman, and there are circumstances surrounding Mandy’s birth that Mandy doesn’t know about. I’d rather she not know about it.
“All right, I agree. Tell me.”
Her mother was viciously attacked one night by a group of men, and one of them ended up impregnating her. The cops never did find out the names of those who assaulted her, but there were at least five men and they took turns. When she didn’t come home on time, I was worried so I went out looking for her. I couldn’t raise her on her cell phone. She had been at a friend’s house and when she headed home, that’s when the men caught her.
I flinched, bracing myself. The story had gone very dark, very quickly.
I found her bike, and I called the police. They raised a search party and a pair of search-and-rescue volunteers discovered her in a nearby park, left beneath some bushes. She was severely injured. At the hospital they gave her the morning-after pill, but it didn’t work. Beverly didn’t know she was pregnant until she was too far along for an abortion. She thought she was gaining weight because she was eating a lot, and she didn’t have many other symptoms.
I was trying to figure out a way to ask her questions without Mandy overhearing. “Weren’t there other signs?”
You mean, what about her period? Beverly had never had a regular cycle, and she thought that the trauma had stopped it. She was eighteen. By the time she figured out something was going on and I took her in, it was too late. So she had to have the child and she refused to give her up for adoption. She thought she could manage motherhood, but it wasn’t long before Mandy proved to be too much. Every time Beverly looked at her, the child was a reminder of the assault. It was too much. She spiraled into drug and alcohol abuse. I took care of Mandy from the time she was a little girl and I always knew I’d end up raising her.
I sighed. The tragedy of the story overwhelmed me and I rubbed my temples. “What would you like me to tell your granddaughter?” I asked, hoping for something that I could relay that wouldn’t leave Mandy shouldering a buttload of guilt.
Nan thought for a moment, then said, Tell her that her mother loved her as best she could. That she was haunted by too many demons and it wasn’t her fault and it wasn’t Mandy’s fault. Tell her that Beverly thought she was doing the best thing for Mandy by removing herself from the picture. She was a very sick young woman and we tried everything we could to help her. There are some tragedies that you don’t come back from.
That would be enough, I thought. It would at least give Mandy the knowledge that she hadn’t driven her mother to suicide. Although, in an inadvertent way, she had. Her very presence had. But it sounded like Beverly had been broken so deeply by those men that there was nothing that would have prevented her suicide.
I turned to Mandy and explained the best as I could. “Your mother was very ill, mentally. She had PTSD, and she couldn’t face her future—and she didn’t want to ruin your future. So she took her own life. But your mother loved you, and she knew how much your grandmother loved you. She trusted your grandmother to watch over you. And your grandma did the best she could under the circumstances. That’s all I can tell you.” I never used to lie to clients, but now the energy was too much for me. So I fibbed. “Your grandmother’s vanished for now, but she’ll be around, watching over you.”
After a moment, Mandy smiled. She looked as though a weight had lifted off her shoulders. “Thank you. I needed to hear all of that. As long as I didn’t cause my mother’s suicide, as long as I know that she loved me it’s okay. Sometimes people do what they have to do and nothing in the world can help. I’m glad my grandma is around, though, and maybe I can learn to sense her presence. I tend to feel her. When I smell lavender perfume, I think she’s near.”
I could smell it too. “I think the lavender perfume is a sign she’s around. Now, I should take my wedding dress and go. Thank you so much for the wonderful job.”
“Wear it in good health, and with joy.” She saw me to the door.
As I stepped outside and headed to my car, Lanora appeared by my side.
Thank you for not destroying her hopes.
“Listen, at some point she’s going to go digging for information and she’ll encounter the whole truth. If it’s in the police records, she’ll be able to access it. Think carefully about what you try to keep from her. You might want to tell her before she discovers it on her own.” With a wave, I slid into my car, put the dress in the backseat, and eased out of the parking spot.
CHAPTER TWO
By the time I got home, it was nearly four. I was now working three days a week in an attempt to keep my stress levels down. I went in Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and took Friday through Monday off.
Because my doctor had insisted that I flex my magical muscles every day that I wasn’t laid out with a migraine, I had taken up reading tarot and various other things on the side. The Broom & Besom—the local magical shop—had generously offered me space to read there. So on the Fridays that I felt up to it, I spent a few hours at the shop, reading for customers.
