A Late Summer Bloom Read online

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2014 Cherrie Mack

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-720-8

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: Laurie Temple

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to all the girls, who through life’s obstacles and heartache, learn to become strong, independent women.

  For Keith, Rachel and Maxwell.

  To my editor, Laurie Temple, thank you for polishing my voice with your expertise.

  A LATE SUMMER BLOOM

  Witches of the Bayou, 1

  Cherrie Mack

  Copyright © 2014

  Chapter One

  Cecily Jareau, a powerful witch of thirty years, gazed up at the inky black sky and sighed. With the aid of the full moon, she carefully walked along the marked pathway in the woods outside Cottonwood Landing. Uncomfortably round at nine months pregnant, her eyes remained focused, her heart yearning for James, the father of her baby. Once her baby was shown a safe passage into the world, she would take him, leave the coven and never return. But Percy, the leader of her coven, talked incessantly about the rules of the royal family.

  Percy reached out for her hand, helping her navigate the area of rocks and pebbles. “Cecily, I’ve heard the talk amongst the others. You must know if this is your tenth pregnancy. If it is so, salvation could be at hand. Why do you keep this hidden from us? We have no desire to steal away your child, only to be sure the child is raised within the boundaries of the coven.”

  “My child will be born male, Percy. The fate of the coven can rest with the baby of another poor witch whose tenth pregnancy births a female.”

  He pulled her to a stop and glared at her. “Are you telling me—you went to a human doctor to find out the sex of this baby? That is sacrilege—against our ways. There are consequences for such an action.”

  Returning his scowl, she shook out of his grip. “Keep your crown on. I did no such thing.” She wagged her finger in his face, resting the other hand on her swollen belly. “But... I will tell you this. The minute this baby is born, I will denounce my royal witch-hood and leave Cottonwood Landing at once. I’m done being a pawn. I’m tired of trying to save the human race. I wanna do what I wanna do.”

  His shocked expression had her turning on her heel to continue on the path. She scrunched up her face, preparing for the onslaught of his wrath. The truth was she had no idea of the sex of her baby. If praying would make her baby male, there would be no question as to its gender. Was this her tenth pregnancy? She was the only one who knew that answer. And the answer was, yes.

  “Cecily!” Percy scolded. “You must listen to me. You are a Jareau. If your baby is female she will be the first tenth power to be born into the twenty-first century. There will be no denying her destiny. Her power will be absolute. It is our responsibility to guide and hone these powers in order to prevent world domination from the warlocks. The time of war is close at hand. We must prepare.”

  “I don’t care Percy.” Her flippant attitude masked her fear. My baby will be male, making this conversation useless.”

  “Hoping does not make it so. You need to plan. Carefully.”

  She stopped, slowly turning to chastise him. “How about you plan? You worry. You prepare for the war! I want happiness with my child. I want a normal, dare I say, human life. I never asked to be born into the royals, I don’t want my witch-hood. I want my freedom.”

  He shook his head. “No. You cannot. This is against the gods. I will not have it.”

  She narrowed her eyes, then trudged along in the direction of the cave. Unable to be silent, she shouted her dismay, “Are you telling me you will not honor my request to be dispelled?” Halting her steps, she stared at him. “Because I’m not above calling a council, Percy—you’re not judge and jury of my life.”

  He gasped in shock. “What you speak of is blasphemous.”

  “Yeah? Well a witch’s world is not all sunshine and roses.”

  Cecily stomped away, walking the rest of the way in silence. The stillness, interrupted by Percy's ragged breathing, was her only distraction. As he hobbled along after her, she hummed, pretending her world was perfect while on the inside, she trembled.

  Up ahead, a traveler waited. He would stand vigil outside the sacred cave until the time of her child’s birth and spread the news of its arrival. When all was said and done, she’d take her child and go to James to live a clean, human life. A life she hoped did not include magic, death, and talk of imminent war. It is what she always yearned for. And she had no intention of walking away from her dream.

  When they arrived at the mouth of the cave, Percy gave her one final warning. “My belief in the coven runs deep. The moral fiber of our community must never be compromised. You were born with the gift of witch-hood, a royal witch at that. Mere humans cannot comprehend our powers and it is imperative they are kept in the dark. We have saved countless lives from the likes of evil humans whose souls were absorbed by a warlock. And we continue to do so. If it weren’t for our travelers, Hitler, Stalin, Idi Amin, and countless other malevolent men would have continued their reign of terror. If you have a son, it is imperative he learn our ways. He could become a very talented witch or perhaps he will become a traveler, a fine warrior of witches.”

  As Cecily leaned her butt against a boulder, she snorted. “A traveler? They’re nothing but glorified witches who crave power. They’re scapegoats for the council. You wanna know why our travelers are joining us? Most are joining for revenge because a warlock has destroyed someone they loved. They don’t join for the cause, or for the royals, or for the superiority of our race. They join because they each have something to gain. And my son? He will hold a prestigious position … in the human world.”

  Percy shook his head, speaking as though he’d given up. “These men protect humankind and police the supernatural. If you are blessed with a son, you must teach him our ways. We are shrinking in numbers.”

  She leaned back and stroked her stomach. “I won’t have any child of mine fight your stupid war. We will live in peace and harmony.”

  “And what of the father of your child? Has he no say?”

  “He’s no concern of yours.”

  “Does he know you plan on raising the child human?”

  “He’s dead. So he doesn’t give a shit.”

  Percy approached her. Although not much older than she, the father-figure to the royals shuddered with anger, his jaw rigid as he spoke through clenched teeth. “We all want peace, my dear, but there is no denying the evil that roams this earth. Natas has stirred and is gathering at this very moment. If your child is female, he will want to possess her by her twentieth year when her powers come of age. And if he succeeds, we all die—even your precious humans.” He turned and left her, disappearing into the moonlight.

  As the night sounds grew louder, Cecily became weary recalling Percy’s warning. She had spent a lifetime in the coven, hiding her powers and casting spells to remain hidden from warlocks and humans alike. The life of a witch meant to remain in the shadows. Those who chose to come out were considered magicians, psychic mediums, or gypsy and carnival acts. They were spat on and laughed at by the human population. No. She’d had enough. Cecil
y wanted out. She gave enough of herself. And pretending the father of her baby was dead was a necessity. James was not involved with the coven, nor should he be dragged into their war.

  Cecily heard the sound of twigs snapping. The traveler had arrived in the form of a white wolf. The guardian stepped out of the darkness and into the moonlight. Mesmerized by its sheer beauty and massive size, she stared at it, feeling no fear. It was then she knew this traveler was familiar. When the wolf shifted into his humanlike form in front of her eyes, he explained and Cecily softly wept. When he finished, she cried out in anguish and betrayal. She cried for her broken dreams and the life she planned for her unborn child.

  James, the love of her life, the man she couldn’t live without, was a traveler. In a moment of complete clarity, she understood. She knew the child she carried was female. James was Jacques, a traveler who pursued the instrument of ultimate power, their very own daughter. She had been deceived and used. When Jacques approached her and reached out for her hand, she yanked it out of his grasp.

  He faced the entrance to the cave. With his arms raised he said the incantation to open its portal. Cecily walked over the threshold and never looked back. She chanted over and over the deeper and farther she went into the blackness of its depths. The words were ancient and powerful, a spell she weaved and weaved and weaved until the layers ran deep and jagged and winding, like the cave itself.

  Chapter Two

  Nineteen Years Later

  Fourteen-year-old Joyal Beaumont stood in the east wing of Cottonwood Landing. The whispers of excited children could be heard coming down the regal halls of the ancient home. There were plenty of children to be found here. Cottonwood Landing housed the five royal families and offered a safe haven for those who needed a respite from the human world. Joyal Beaumont belonged to one such family. And she disliked having to stay here. She missed her siblings and her home. And like so many young witches her age, she was a curious adventure-seeker who yearned to hone her craft. But instead, she was stuck here. Inside. Going on three weeks now.

  While the elders joined together for their spiritual conference, Joyal volunteered to entertain the younger children. It was something to do in an otherwise boring place. No one was practicing magic and it annoyed her. But her desire to be with the younger children won out over keeping company with kids her own age. Clapping her hands, her authoritative voice gathered them in a cluster. When they looked to her for direction, she stood straight and waited patiently for them to quiet down.

  Little Sally Clemens raised her hand. Joyal, basking in her role as leader, pointed to her and giggled. Sally stepped forward. “What is your special gift, Miss Joyal?”

  “Hmm. Sally, I’m only fourteen. I won’t know my special power until I’m at least nineteen or twenty. Every witch is born with a special power, aside from all the other magic we can do. But it doesn’t surface until we come of age. It’s what the elders call our true calling.”

  Malcolm raised his hand, “Have you ever seen a warlock?”

  Joyal shivered at the thought of coming face to face with a warlock. “Now, Malcolm, surely you must know the answer to that. Our parents teach us from a very early age that once you encounter a warlock, very few survive. They are horrible, ugly creatures. Their skin is gray and wrinkly, their ears pointy like their teeth, and they have red eyes—so red they can burn a hole right through to your bones. And I heard, when they suck the soul from your body, the pain is so terrible you want to die very quickly. No one I know has ever seen one, except of course—” Joyal looked around as if spilling a big secret. The children leaned in, and she whispered, “The travelers.” An audible gasp could be heard from the children. They all oohed, and Cassandra raised her hand. “Have you ever met a traveler, Miss Joyal?”

  She thought for a moment. It was her dream to meet a traveler. “No. I can’t say I have. For sure. But did you know travelers can shift into other life forms? They can be bears or birds or insects even but not for very long. That’s what I heard anyway. They are said to be the most ferocious fighters of all time.”

  Cassandra added, “My mom says a witch to the tenth power can beat any traveler in a battle.”

  Joyal giggled. “Your mommy’s right. She can. She’s like the human world’s Wonder Woman.”

  They giggled, each girl pretending to be a witch to the tenth power and the boys, travelers. When an argument erupted between Cassandra and a little boy named Tommy, Joyal moved to the middle of the group. “Hey. Hey. Calm down. What’s all the arguing about?”

  Tommy muttered, “Why can’t a boy be a witch to the tenth power?”

  Cassandra chimed in. “Yeah? And why can’t a girl be a traveler?”

  Joyal scratched her head. “Hmm. Well, it’s simple, really. Your moms and dads explained that only females can have babies right?” Some nodded their heads while others shouted their answers. Joyal took a deep breath and sighed. “Okay … okay. Babies are very important to the covens. Female witches are supposed to try to get pregnant at least ten times in their lifetime. If she is successful and her tenth baby is a female, that child has what’s called the tenth power. This is a very big deal in our coven. There are very few tenth powers and so far, none this century. No one knows why, but for our kind, it’s not so easy to have babies. That’s what the elders say anyway. Now, enough questions, who wants to play hide and go seek?”

  The children jumped up and down, screaming with excitement. Joyal placed her hands on her hips and set the rules. “The game will be played in the east wing only. If you go beyond it, you will be disqualified.”

  She looked around. Although she was not yet acclimated to the vast amount of rooms and sections of Cottonwood Landing, she had a good sense of direction. Counting twenty-two children, Joyal knew she had her work cut out for her.

  “Okay, I will count to fifty.” Joyal mimicked a scary voice, “And when I’m done I will come for each of you and lock you in my—prison.” When the children scampered away, she closed her eyes and began to count. “One—two—three.” A few seconds later, Joyal said “Fifty. Ready or not, here I come.” Opening her eyes, she smiled and went looking for the children.

  Twelve of the children were easy to find, practically hiding in plain sight. Six more were hiding in closets and under beds. Three more were found clumped together in an old dumbwaiter at the end of the hall. Joyal gathered them together. They were all there but one. Tommy was still hiding.

  Percy walked into the ball room. “Joyal, we are done with our meeting. The children can come to the kitchen for ice cream.” The stampede for the exit made her laugh aloud.

  “You certainly know how to clear a room, sir.”

  He winked at her. “You may have ice cream, too. Just because you’re a teenager doesn’t mean you’re too old for the creamy deliciousness of vanilla bean ice cream.”

  “Mmm. Sounds good. I’ll be along. Tommy’s still hiding.”

  She noticed him look around at the now empty east wing and hesitate. He nodded his head in agreement. “Very good. Don’t be long.”

  Joyal watched him walk away. Maybe it’s not so bad here after all. She just wished she could find a little excitement. Shrugging her shoulders, she went in search of Tommy. She stopped and rechecked the hiding spots she had already looked. The dumbwaiter was pretty clever. She walked toward the end of the hall. To the right was a door to the old library. She had looked inside previously, but decided to check the area again.

  Inside she scanned the generous amount of books. This library could compete with any human library, and Joyal made a mental note to explore in here more often. She pulled books off the shelf in the hopes of revealing a secret wall and laughed at the predictability of her actions. Crreeaak. She stopped and paid attention to the eerie sound, as if someone was leaning on a loose floorboard. Tiptoeing over to the window, she caught her toe on the old throw carpet. She noticed her mishap revealed what looked to be an old handle.

  Leaning down, Joyal pulled a corne
r of the carpet up. A trap door lay beneath the charcoal blue, oriental carpet. When she heard the excited giggle of a young child, her head spun. It came from the direction of the window. Dropping the rug, Joyal crept over to the windows. The oversized gold tassel moved as the giggling continued in little spurts. “Oh, well. I guess I’ll have to go eat all that ice cream by myself,” she said.

  When Tommy emerged from behind the drapes, she put her hand in the air. “That, my man, was a great spot to hide. High five.” The little boy slapped her hand and ran out of the library in search of his ice cream.

  Joyal looked toward the door but her mind was on the trap door in the floor. Eh—why not. No one will know. Joyal pulled the carpet back and grabbed the old, rusted handle. When she yanked it open, cobwebs could be seen filling the gap between the floor and the small staircase leading down. Taking one last look around the library, Joyal descended the steps.

  ****

  Percy watched Tommy lick the ice cream from his top lip while kicking his legs. Percy’s eyes felt heavy from worry. Although it would be near impossible to breach the gates of Cottonwood Landing, he felt the evil closing in. Witches were dying, their souls held hostage at the hands of the warlocks. There were more every day, and he was clueless as to how to stop it. He needed the prophecy to be fulfilled. The coven needed their witch to the tenth power. But Cecily Jareau was long gone and not for the first time, Percy questioned if her claim that her child was the evil spawn of Natas was true, or a lie meant to buy her freedom. No one knew if Giselle Jareau was a good witch or a bad one. Only time would tell. And time seemed to be running out.

  Rubbing his tired eyes, he watched Tommy clean his ice cream bowl with his finger, then clean his finger with his mouth. It was a small reprieve from the constant worry as he chuckled at the little boy. “There is plenty more Tommy. You don’t have to lick the bowl.”