The Ghost and the Witches' Coven Read online

  The Ghost and the Witches’ Coven

  (Haunting Danielle, Book 26)

  A Novel

  By Bobbi Holmes

  Cover Design: Elizabeth Mackey

  * * *

  Copyright © 2020 Bobbi Holmes

  Robeth Publishing, LLC

  All Rights Reserved.

  * * *

  This novel is a work of fiction.

  Any resemblance to places or actual persons,

  living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  www.robeth.com

  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

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  The Ghost and the Mountain Man

  Haunting Danielle Newsletter

  Haunting Danielle Series

  Bobbi Holmes

  Unlocked Hearts Series

  The Coulson Series

  Also by Bobbi Ann Johnson Holmes

  One

  Scotland 1618

  Calloused bare feet carried Blair Tolmach across the wet field, away from the lush woodland, with its abundance of oak, downy birch, wych elm, holly, hazel, and other treasures of nature her mother, Gavenia, taught her to respect. Many of which provided valuable ingredients for Gavenia’s magical potions.

  Having completed her morning chores, the young girl raced home. The hem of her long tattered wool skirt flapped along her ankles, yet she managed to avoid tripping. Overhead, the Scottish mist grayed the afternoon sky. To her right she glimpsed the sheep of her neighbors’, lazily grazing. Yet her focus remained on the humble cottage in the distance she shared with her mother. Careful not to drop the basket she carried and risk spilling the herbs she had spent the morning collecting in the woodland, Blair clutched tightly to the basket’s handle.

  Those in the village called women like her mother a wise woman, a cunning woman, or a witch. Gavenia called herself midwife and healer. While respected among her neighbors, Gavenia had impressed upon her daughter caution in representing her powers or intent. When a local healer ran afoul of her neighbors, they might accuse her of witchcraft. An accusation alone could mean torture and death.

  When Blair was old enough to understand the danger her mother faced by helping others, she wished her mother had not been born with her gifts. Yet she also understood those special gifts made Gavenia the woman she was, and Blair dearly loved her mother.

  She had also loved her father—Gavenia’s late husband—who died from the fever the previous winter. Even his wife’s potions could not save him. Blair sorely missed her father. A fisherman, she remembered him as being tall and sturdy as an oak, with flaming red hair. He had loved to sing and carve magical animals from the whalebones he brought home with him from his fishing trips. Her mother wore one around her neck—a hawk, a white hawk—fastened to a thin leather cord. But her father would no longer be carving from whalebones, singing songs, or sharing their cottage.

  Just weeks after his death, their landlord, Laird Douglas Blackwood, informed her mother that she no longer needed to pay rent for the cottage. Instead, she could move into Blackwood Hall and work in his kitchen. Gavenia possessed many talents and attributes. Not only was she considered one of the fairest women in the village and a talented healer, she was also known as an exceptional cook.

  When Blair asked her mother why she turned down the laird’s offer, Gavenia muttered, “’Tis not my cooking he wants, lassie.” Whatever the reason for declining the proposal, it relieved Blair. Both the laird and his wife terrified the young girl. Just last spring the wife had accused a local beggar woman of witchcraft, resulting in the woman’s death. Blair did not know if the beggar had been a witch or not, but she heard that while they tortured the woman for a confession, she had died before giving one—and before accusing others. According to some local villagers, they believed a witch’s spell had killed the beggar woman, placed on her by someone who did not want to face the same accusation.

  When Blair reached her cottage a few minutes later, she spied a horse tied up along the front rail. She recognized the animal immediately. It belonged to Laird Blackwood. She had never seen him at her cottage before and wondered why he was here. Glancing from the horse to the open kitchen window, she spied the laird standing inside with her mother. Not wanting to make her presence known, she crept up to the house and crouched below the window, still holding onto the basket. She listened.

  “Laird, ah tell ya, ah cannae be accepting yer generous offer,” Blair heard her mother say.

  “It’s nae an offer. It’s an order. Ya wull move up tae yer freish quarters by nightfall th’morra. Thare wull be duties expected o’ yer daughter, o’ course. Ah notice she’s grow’n up tae be faire a bonny lassie.”

  “Mah laird—’n’ if ah refuse?” Gavenia’s trembling voice asked.

  Terrified, Blair continued to listen. The laird expected her mother and her to move up to Blackwood Hall by nightfall tomorrow. He had even promised their cottage to someone else. When her mother asked what would happen if she refused, he called her a willful woman and then pointed out it was a sure sign of one consorting with the devil. Blackwood questioned what evil practices Gavenia had taught Blair.

  The frightened child listened as her mother’s resolve vanished, and she heard Gavenia agree to move up to Blackwood Hall. Tears slid down Blair’s face as she continued to huddle under the window. Although tender in years, Blair understood Blackwood’s implied threat against her had ultimately swayed her mother. She knew children were not safe from the accusation of witchcraft and could face torture and execution, as did an adult.

  A moment later she heard the slamming of the cottage door, and several minutes later, the sound of hoofs trotted down the road, presumably carrying Laird Blackwood to his next destination. Instead of standing up and going into the cottage, Blair remained frozen to the spot on the damp ground. She expected to hear her mother crying, but instead she heard the slamming of pots and pans, as if someone was tearing apart the kitchen. Hesitantly, she stood up and looked into the cottage. She watched as her mother hurried around in the room, gathering up items and setting them on the kitchen table. Still clutching her basket, Blair turned and headed for the cottage entrance.

  “We’re gaun awa’, lassie,” Gavenia said breathlessly the moment Blair walked into the kitchen, basket in hand.

  “Ah heard, Mama,” Blair whispered. “Ah was ooutdoors by th’ windae. Ah heard whit Laird Blackwood said.”

  Gavenia stopped dashing around the kitchen and studied her daughter a moment. Silently she took the basket from Blair’s grasp, set it on the table, and drew the girl into her arms for a comforting hug. “We ur aff tae mah cousin’s,” Gavenia whispered. “It’s a lang journe
y, bit we wull be safe thare. We’ll travel thro’ th’ woodland. We mist lea noo, tae be far fae ’ere afore he kens we hae gaen.”

  Blair felt relief knowing they were not moving to Blackwood Hall. But she also understood the dangers of fleeing. Yet she trusted her mother and understood Gavenia felt safer going through the woodland, a vast wilderness she knew well and a place they could easily lose themselves in while surviving off the land as they traveled to her mother’s cousin for refuge.

  Gavenia told her daughter what they needed to take, knowing it would limit them on what they carried. Since they owned only one horse, they would ride double or take turns riding. Gavenia wanted to get as far away from Lord Blackwood as soon as possible. Riding double and carrying less while traveling such a distance seemed the most reasonable plan.

  “It’s probaly fur th’ best,” Gavenia said when Blair expressed sadness at having to leave so much behind. “Shuid Laird Blackwood come by th’morra efter we’ve gaen ’n’ see oor belongings stacked as if we intend tae tak’ thaim tae Blackwood loaby th’morra forenicht, he won’t suspect we hae gaen.”

  Gavenia released hold of her daughter, and the two began gathering up what they planned to take, while stacking all they intended to leave by the door. They were almost finished when a young boy name Jamie pounded on the cottage door.

  “It’s Mama!” Jamie shouted when Gavenia opened the door. She knew immediately why the young boy wanted her. His mother was expecting a baby, yet it wasn’t due for several more weeks. “Ye hae tae come!”

  Gavenia and Blair exchanged worried glances before Gavenia looked down at the boy and told him to hurry back to his mama and that she would be there shortly. She left him standing on the front porch and closed the door behind her as she turned and faced Blair.

  Knowing her mother would never abandon a woman in need, Blair asked what they were going to do now. Gavenia assured her daughter they would leave as soon as she finished with the woman. They would meet at their secret place and be far from Laird Blackwood before he discovered they had gone. She went on to tell Blair what she needed to gather for their escape.

  Gavenia started to turn away from her daughter, yet paused a moment and removed the leather cord with the white hawk carving from her neck. She turned to her daughter and carefully secured the necklace on the young girl.

  “Wi’ this, ken yer papa is keekin ower ye ’til ah come tae ye,” Gavenia whispered to her daughter before kissing her forehead. “Ah love ye, bairn.”

  Reverently, Blair reached up, her fingertips brushing the delicate carving. She looked back to her mama and whispered, “Hurry, Mama. Ah love ye.”

  When Gavenia opened the door a few minutes later, it surprised her to find Jamie still lingering on the front porch. Leaving her young daughter behind to prepare for their escape and wait in the nearby woodlands, Gavenia hurriedly followed the boy. They reached his home within twenty minutes. Waiting outside was the boy’s anxious father and ten siblings; they ranged from ages two to sixteen. The husband stayed outside with his children while Gavenia rushed in the cottage to her patient. The moment she found the woman in bed burning with a fever, she knew something was drastically wrong.

  Within minutes of Gavenia’s arrival, the baby came. Yet it was stillborn. Minutes after the delivery, the weary and delirious woman looked up into Gavenia’s eyes and moved her lips to say something. Yet, before she uttered any words, her eyes closed, and her spirit drifted away, leaving the children outside motherless.

  Moments after Gavenia left the family to grieve, Jamie informed his father what he had overheard outside the Tolmach cottage while waiting for the midwife. After hearing his son’s story, the man was convinced Gavenia was a witch and had just murdered his wife and daughter. He immediately went to Laird Blackwood and repeated the tale. He knew Laird Blackwood would do something; hadn’t that witch told her daughter she intended to flee from the laird?

  The laird’s men captured Gavenia before she ever entered the woodland. She might have escaped had she not first stopped along a desolate section of road to weep for the dead woman and her stillborn child.

  Blair waited for her mother, and when she didn’t come, she began to worry. After nightfall she left her belongings and horse at the secret spot in the woodland and made her way to the village.

  Blair escaped the laird, yet primarily because he focused his attention on punishing the woman who intended to run away from him. Had he considered the additional pain he could inflict on Gavenia by searching for and bringing in the ten-year-old girl with a charge of witchcraft, he would not have done so.

  Truth be told, Blackwood was a little in love with the fair Gavenia, and while that might not prevent him from persecuting her for witchcraft, it kept him from charging the daughter.

  The details of her mother’s incarceration, torture, trial, and eventual execution were for a week or more kept from Blair, although she did witness the ultimate conclusion of her mother’s witch trial when they burned her at the stake in front of the entire village.

  Two

  Four Hundred Years Later

  Late Tuesday evening, the last day of July, Walt pressed send on his computer’s email program and marveled that his manuscript would reach his agent’s computer within minutes. In his first lifetime, an author or the author’s secretary would need to type a copy of the manuscript on paper—copy machines had not yet been invented—and mail it through the postal service, which could take days or weeks to reach its destination.

  Celebrations were in order, yet it was too late for champagne. Danielle was already in the shower, getting ready for bed, and when she was done, it was his turn. Walt stood up from his desk, stretched, and went to turn down the bed before taking his shower.

  The next morning the couple decided on a low-key celebration for Walt’s second submission to his editor. They walked down to Pier Café for breakfast. When they returned home, they each grabbed a book and headed to the back patio to read. Clouds dotted the sky and the afternoon temperatures hovered in the mid-sixties. When they heard the mailman arrive, they both went inside. Walt settled on the sofa with his book while Danielle went to retrieve the day’s mail. When she joined Walt in the living room several minutes later, she had already unwrapped a package that had arrived in the mail, and carried it proudly, tilting it from side to side to get Walt’s attention.

  He looked up from his book and silently watched Danielle break into a lively jig. In her hand she carried a broom. Not a typical broom one might buy at the hardware store, but one that looked homespun. Its handle appeared to have been cut directly from one of a tree’s smaller branches and polished before attaching a bundle of twigs to one end.

  “What is that?” Walt asked, closing his book and setting it on his lap.

  “Isn’t it obvious? It’s a broom.”

  “Yes, I see that. But what are you doing with it? Certainly, you don’t intend to have Joanne use that thing?”

  Danielle laughed. “Of course not, silly.” She held the broom out for him to inspect and asked, “What does it make you think of?”

  Walt shrugged. “A broom?”

  Danielle rolled her eyes. “A witch. It looks like a witch’s broom!” She moved the broom to her backside and pretended to sit on it while grinning at Walt.

  “You’re planning to join that local witches’ coven?” Walt teased.

  Danielle groaned dramatically and stood up straighter, now holding the broom by her side. “I’m talking about Halloween.”

  “Halloween? That’s three months away. You’re already working on your costume?” Walt asked.

  Danielle rolled her eyes again. “The broom isn’t for me.”

  “Well, I’m not dressing up like a witch. And stop rolling your eyes.”

  “It’s for the haunted house. I saw it online. It was on sale, and I figured, not too early to plan for the haunted house and collect some new decorations.”

  “Whoa! Who said anything about doing another haunted house t
his year? I thought we decided not to do another one?” Walt asked.

  Danielle looked down at the broom and shrugged. “I thought we just hadn’t made a commitment to do another one again. I don’t recall us saying we absolutely wouldn’t do a haunted house this Halloween.”

  “I don’t know why you would want to, considering all the trouble we had last year.”

  Danielle let out a sigh. “There were fun moments.” She looked at the broom again. “Doesn’t this thing make you think of witches and Halloween?” She looked up to Walt and asked, “Do you know why they say witches flew brooms?”

  “Because they couldn’t afford a car?”

  Ignoring Walt’s answer, she held up the broom and said, “From what I read, witches used a broom something like this, but smaller, called a besom. I think they used it to brush away evil spirits or something.”

  “And what does that have to do with flying?” Walt asked.

  “One article I read said they rubbed oil on the broom to make it fly.”

  “You could always ask Heather. Maybe one of her oils will work.” Walt snorted.

  “I don’t think Heather has those kinds of oils,” Danielle said with mock disappointment. “But it’s too bad. I’d love to take this thing for a spin.”