Witch Clan: Matriarchs by John Stormm (best beach reads of all time TXT) 📖

comically as its head was split by a tiny sword from behind. Gregory smiled his fierce smile and flipped his blade in a cavalier salute and rejoined the fray against his marauding cousins. Not quite the faery prince a young girl could hope for, she couldn’t help but admire his panache. The Vough regained her feet and took up her weapon and stepped back a few paces and raised her staff to the heavens.

“I’ll call upon the Dark Power of Annwn to come hither and destroy you Sidhe interlopers,” the hag threatened.

Johnny stood his ground calmly with the wand hanging loosely in his hand, never taking those darkened eyes off the mad fae witch, and in a voice that sounded more like a rumble of distant thunder than the voice of a five year old boy he spoke.

“No. You won’t.”

Punctuating his sentence, the darkness of the night time woods went black on black. A blistering rush of searing frigid air blasted them and the remaining piskies to the ground as the tree branches overhead and the Vough shattered like glass as the ebon lightning crashed through the canopy. All was black and cold. The sobbing of a broken hearted little boy, somewhere in the darkness, was all that could be heard. The world was still, in expectation of what would come next.

Moon Dancing And Goodbyes

Lighting her way with her staff as she left the tower, Emma surmised that neither the children or the Vough had come down the forest trail she had traveled. She left in hurry, the monster now dead. It was likely that Leona had taken the quickest route for cover. She walked the straightest line to the woods edge and her suspicions were confirmed by the trampled underbrush that led into the forest interior. The children would likely be as easily tracked by the Vough and whatever minions she might have. Worried, she hastened her pace, being careful not to lose sight of their tracks. She didn't see any traces of the Vough passing this way, but she didn't expect she would. Any witch who lived here long, would know the land intimately.

Ahead in the distance, the sounds of a sobbing child chilled her blood. Had the Vough found the children? She picked up her pace as well as she could in the thick forest and uneven terrain and followed her ears. Whatever evil the Vough had unleashed, Emma was resolved to be her undoing and picked her way gingerly and quickly through the dark woods. No other sounds could be heard, but several hundred yards ahead a moonlit clearing appeared. Her eyes already adjusted to the dim light around, she approached with less caution. The shuddering sobs of her grandson caught her attention. The boy knelt in the dirt next to her granddaughter. Leona blinked up at her a moment and promptly fainted. Littered around the children were the bodies of mutilated piskies, some missing wings, limbs or heads. One lay sprawled on top of another that had a tiny steel sword piercing its chest. The one on top could be none other than Gregory the Peck as it stirred and looked up at her and smiled through the gore caked on his face.

Planting her staff in the soft forest loam, she examined her granddaughter. She was cold to the immediate touch, but an underlying warmth was spreading quickly to her limbs. It was likely she had the breath knocked out of her when the lightning struck nearby. A pink streak showed above her collar on her left side and a closer look shown that Leona had been pierced by one of those fighting thorns and the wound was either poisoned or infected. Emma cleaned the wound with some linen dabbed with a little witch hazel that she had scavenged from the vacated tower and bound it lightly to keep it clean. There was hardly any bruising and it didn’t appear to be bleeding much. Her mother’s clan medallion was still fastened tightly to Leona’s walking stick. She removed it and clasped it back around her neck.

All this time, Johnny never stopped his sobbing, though he was clearly trying to control it, but he never looked up at her. Pulling out some more wadded linen and a little splash of witch hazel. She gently cupped his chin and drew him to look up at her while she daubed at the blood and filth on his face and forehead. Watery, red rimmed, blue eyes looked up at her forlornly.

“I’m so sorry, Grandma,” he sobbed. “I was such a very bad boy and I got us in all this trouble. Please don’t leave me here. Leona can have my room and I’ll stay upstairs and be such a good boy. I promise. Witches’ honor.” He held his two grubby fingers under his eyes to confirm his words.

“I know my boy is sorry,” she said, hugging him. “But I think the trouble was looking for you, and not the other way around, Son. And I fixed your room for you, and Leona’s room for her. Why would either of you want the other’s room?”

“I like my room,” Leona said groggily, trying to sit up. “I really wish I was in it now.” Johnny reached over and hugged his cousin.

“Hey, your eyes,” Leona exclaimed. “They’re blue again.”

“Of course, they are, dear,” Emma said, puzzled. “What color were they before now?”

“Oh, Grandma,” Leona said in a rambling rush. “They were as black as the lightning here. No white. No blue, just deep dark blackness. It was so scary, all the things that happened. And that nasty old Vough hit him in the head with a huge board and I thought she killed him, and he got up and gave Gregory a sword and we got away and she chased us and... and did you really kill that monster with just a knife?” she asked, looking perplexed.

“My kids are back to me.” Emma laughed. “I had some help from some special sisters in killing Behir. He’s probably still falling down that abyss right now. Did you kids really take on the Vough and her minions all by yourselves, with those sticks?”

“Well, my stick was magick,” Leona replied. “’Cause it had your magick medallion attached to it. Evil faeries exploded into sparks and secret doors would open for me. And Johnny stole the Vough’s wand-thing and it lit up the whole place and he smacked her staff right out of her hand and Gregory had a magick sword and he was such a hero and he rescued me a couple times with it and helped fight off the minions. He’s the mightiest piskie of them all and Johnny called the black lightning and the whole world exploded and... and then you came and got us. We didn’t all die or anything, did we?”

“No, little witch,” she said. “We’re all very much alive. Though I’m afraid not everybody made it through.” She shook her head sadly.

“Auntie Vy?” Johnny asked, holding her close.

“Behir hit her with a tree and threw her into the river,” she said sadly. “She couldn’t save herself and I was too far away.”

“But you said some special sisters helped you tonight,” Leona puzzled. “If Elvyra was dead, how’d she help you? Or was there others?”

“Both, sweetie,” she said. “I couldn’t have beaten Behir without Sister Elvyra and Sister Moon and this wonderful knife our fae friends gave me.” She patted her sheathed witch blade under her apron.

“I got an awful lot to learn from you, Grandma,” Leona said wonderingly.

“So, you’ll be coming back every summer to learn?” she asked. “You know I can’t possibly teach it all to you before September.”

“Can I?” Leona asked with a grin. “And I want my own, upstairs room,” she insisted, glaring playfully at her cousin. Johnny was on his feet, dancing his little dance in the moonlit clearing and shaking his little fanny to a music only he could hear. The ladies laughed at his antics as he howled his joy to the moon.

“And I get to keep my rooo-OOOOOOMMMM!”

“Hey. Easy, does it, my little wolf boy,” Emma said. “We still have to find a way home. There’s a terrible flood between us and Elvyra’s house and it could be days before we can find a place to cross it. And if you keep making all that racket, who knows what else might find us out here?”

“Ooooh, not good,” he said sheepishly and sat down beside her.

“Elvyra, that is, Auntie Vy,--” Leona corrected herself.-- “said that Johnny was a little gate master. He got us in to see faeries before. Why can’t he take us back?”

“I think there’s a matter of where, and when he does that,” she said, looking thoughtfully at her grandson. “Do you think you can find a place for us to either crossover into our world or the Sidhe world, Son?” Johnny closed his eyes a moment as if he was deep in thought, opened them suddenly and pointed in the direction of the trail.

“That way,” he said, “in a little while from now.”

“You probably mean just before the dawn,” she said. Johnny nodded.

“Let’s get to it, kids,” she said, getting to her feet. “Your