The Witch War of Fiddlehead Creek Read online

  A black feathered head thrust itself through the hole in the window, bringing its carrion stench with it. Its flaking, pointed beak snapped and pecked at the air as it tried to pull itself into the living room. Deegie raised the fire tongs, but Nix got there first and vaporized it with a powerful bolt from a wand she held in her fist. Feathers and stinking black gore splattered the window.

  Deegie lowered the fire tongs. “Nice shot, Nix,” she said, and she reminded herself to never again tease a witch for using a wand.

  Something burst through the broken window upstairs; Deegie heard the rest of the glass fall into the tub. She offered Bast a quick apology, kissed the top of his head, then thrust him into the pantry and closed the door. He would be safe there for a while. The other women helped her shove the couch in front of the broken window and the three of them pounded up the stairs to fend off more of the feathered intruders.

  A commotion on the landing brought them to a halt. A bird-creature was being torn to gory shreds by something diaphanous and gray. It swirled, dervish-like, around the remains of the intruder. Deegie saw gold and green eyes, so many of them. Pointed ears and long tails took shape and disappeared again. Lisbet’s cats had joined the battle.

  “What the hell is that?” Nix raised her wand again and prepared to fire.

  “Stop!” Deegie grabbed Nix’s wand arm. “They’re ghost cats, they won’t hurt you. I’ll explain later. Let’s find something to block that window with!”

  Outside, the men circled the house, never losing sight of each other while they kept an eye out for the bird-things. A flashbulb-like blast of blue lit up the interior of the house as one of the women took out another flying horror. Zach held the fire poker like a baseball bat, ready to knock any approaching bird-thing out of the park. A dark cluster of them made a dry rustling sound, and their hooked talons ticked against the shingles. One of them sheared away from the hellish flock and circled through the purple gloom above. Falling like a stone, it dropped onto Zach’s head.

  “Shit!” Zach dropped the fire poker and grabbed for the ghastly thing. He ripped away a handful of black feathers. The bird-thing ripped and pecked at his scalp. Blood and sweat ran down his forehead. He swiped at the flapping nightmare again. Its hard beak gouged a hole in his wrist.

  “Shit!” Zach screamed again. “Gilbert! Kill this damn thing!”

  Something bright and hot flashed over his head. Gobs of sizzling bird guts slid down his neck, and the stench of burning feathers fouled the air. Gilbert’s fire bolt had found its mark.

  “I said kill it, not blow my head off!” Zach wiped clotted gore away from his mouth and eyes, and then puked extravagantly into the snow. When he raised his head, another avian monstrosity swooped out of the shadows. The foul beak clattered and snapped as it dove. He reached down and found the fire poker without looking, swung it, and connected. The mortally wounded bird plummeted into a snowbank in a shower of blood and feathers.

  THE WITCH WAR OF FIDDLEHEAD CREEK

  The Complicated Life of Deegie Tibbs

  Book 2

  C. L. Hernandez

  DEDICATION

  For Olivia Marie, my greatest blessing

  ***

  A WINLOCK PRESS BOOK

  PUBLISHED AT SMASHWORDS

  ISBN: 978-1-61868-709-8

  ISBN (eBook): 978-1-61868-710-4

  THE WITCH WAR OF FIDDLEHEAD CREEK

  The Complicated Life of Deegie Tibbs

  Book 2

  © 2015 by C.L. Hernandez

  All Rights Reserved

  Edited by Monique Happy Editorial Services

  Cover art by Conzpiracy Digital Arts

  This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author and publisher.

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  Please visit C.L. Hernandez’s website

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  BONUS CHAPTER: DEEGIE’S RECIPES!

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  BONUS CHAPTER: DEEGIE’S RECIPES

  WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF DEEGIE TIBBS!

  OTHER BOOKS YOU’LL LOVE FROM WINLOCK PRESS

  PROLOGUE

  Roland chased the vague form of Tiger Spirit through the soot-blackened maze of corridors and tunnels until the mighty beast could run no more. He hovered, flickering in and out of shape behind the steaming boulders at the end of a long-unused storage alcove. Only his eyes, slit-pupiled and blazing amber, remained sharply delineated. Roland still heard the faint racket of the foot soldiers echoing through the vast caverns of the Underworld. His men were deeply involved in the reappearance of the demon Chul, finally home after a long imprisonment on the Earthly Plane; none of them had followed him. He gave a final glance around, and then, with careful footsteps, he approached the weak and ragged Spirit Animal.

  “Hello, old friend.” Roland knelt a few yards from Tiger Spirit, extended a hand, and made gentle beckoning gestures. “You’re safe here. Let me help you.”

  Weakened as he was by the battle with Chul, Tiger still managed a deafening warning bellow, and he slashed at the air with a mighty paw. Roland saw no hint of recognition in the glowing lanterns of Tiger’s eyes. He backed away, breaking eye contact and keeping his motions cautious and unhurried. Tiger Spirit was in shreds, weakened to the point of vanishing forever, but still deadly. Roland lowered his voice and tried again.

  “It’s been a long time since I saw you last. I remember the night I conjured you from the spirit world as a guardian for my daughter.”

  Tiger flickered orange and black, and his answering growl made the smoking ground shiver under Roland’s feet.

  “Back then you knew me as Roland Tibbs, but down here I am called Klaa. And my daughter is Deegie.”

  At the sound of his mistress’s name, Tiger Spirit collapsed on the pebbled ground and disappeared. Only his eyes remained visible, and they were glassy and huge. Ragged, high-pitched growls, sounding eerily like human sobbing, tore from the noble spirit animal and echoed down the deserted chambers.

  “You do know me,” Roland said. “Now you remember, don’t you?”

  Spirit animals are not capable of speech, but Roland knew Tiger understood. “Easy now,” he said, and he went to the creature’s side again and sat beside him. He placed his hands on Tiger’s head, carefully, one at a time, and then closed his eyes. “Be still. I will help you.”

  Roland went silent and still, his fingers buried in Tiger’s thick, unseen pelt. His body began to tremble, minutely at first, then increasing as he transferred energy from his body into that of the huge feline Spirit Guardian. Tiger’s agonized growls quieted and finally ceased. A purring sound, deep and rumbling, echoed off the stone walls of the Underworld chambe
r as the great beast absorbed Roland’s life-saving gift.

  “There you are,” Roland said after the transfer was complete. His forehead sparkled with the sweat of his efforts; in the dim red light of the Underworld it looked like blood. “Just rest now. You will recover. You’re safe here. It’s not where you’re supposed to be, I know, but no further harm will come to you.”

  Roland could not communicate with Tiger Spirit, not verbally anyway. Back when he had lived on the Earthly Plane, he had been one of the most powerful Dark Witches in the world. Although his human life had been snuffed out by an assassin and his immortal soul banished to the Underworld, he had retained those powers and he utilized one of them now. Returning his hands to Tiger’s sleek head, Roland delved into the spirit animal’s mind and searched his memories.

  Images of Deegie came to him and played out in his own mind, stuttering, jittery, and out of focus. It was like watching a home movie that had been stored in an attic for decades. Deegie’s face was blurry and indistinct, but Roland could still see that she had become a very beautiful woman. The images came faster now: Deegie behind the counter in a curio shop of some sort, working an old-fashioned cash register; the close, cluttered interior of an elderly Volkswagen; a jar of shriveled human fingers; then Deegie again, opening the very portal through which Tiger Spirit and the demon Chul were thrust. Distracted and dismayed, Roland broke the connection. He had not expected this, but at the same time, he wasn’t surprised; Deegie had always been rebellious.

  Oh shit, what has she done? Roland shrouded his face with his hands. I should never have taught her those dark spells, not even the harmless ones. And those damn books! She must have found them and read every single one!

  The books were Roland’s own, an entire shelf full of magical grimoires that had always been strictly off-limits to his precocious young daughter. He should have thrown them away; he should have burned them. His courier, Hack, provided him with updates every month after delivering her monthly inheritance money. Until now, Roland had been convinced that his only daughter was safe and healthy. By opening a portal to the Underworld, an act expressly forbidden to all but the most experienced of Dark Witches, Deegie had put herself in mortal danger. The assassin who had torn Roland’s family apart and left young Deegie an orphan was an old man now, but as far as Roland knew, he was still alive. If he found out what Deegie had done, he would be only too glad to renew his search for the last remaining member of the Tibbs family. And now Deegie was without her guardian.

  CHAPTER ONE

  January sunshine filtered through the bay window of the living room in the old house on Fox Lane. Deegie Tibbs stood in that square of golden warmth, watching the drip and gleam of the icicles hanging from the eaves. The TV droned on behind her, the morning news finally switching topics. Deegie scolded herself for turning it on in the first place; there was always something to stress out about when one watched the news. She swiped at the condensation on the window and dried her wet palm on her skirt. After a final glance at the forested hill behind her house, she closed the curtains. Something stalked that dense pine forest, something with teeth and claws and murderous intent. The last thing she wanted was to see it peering through her window.

  The folks at KXLY-TV were calling it a bear now; yesterday they were convinced it was a large feral dog. Witnesses stated they had seen a hulking, shaggy, four-legged something. Enormous, misshapen paw prints were found in the snow, the tracks looping and circling in random patterns before disappearing back into the woods. Worst of all were the missing pets. Deegie could not bear to think about this part for long. Losing a beloved animal companion was as agonizing as losing a human family member. Impulsively, she went to the couch and scooped up Bast, the black kitten she’d rescued from a dumpster, and she cuddled him in her arms. Bast looked up at her quizzically, as if he was wondering what she had done with the sunlight he’d been enjoying.

  Snuggling with Bast naturally brought on thoughts of Tiger, her lost guardian spirit animal. She missed him more than ever now and hoped he hadn’t suffered when he was dragged into the Underworld. She yearned for one of his surprise visits and ached to hear his grunted feline greetings. Life without him was still strange, and she felt vulnerable and exposed. She dreamed of him nearly every night.

  “Don’t worry, Bast,” she said, as if the kitten could understand her. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Ready to go to work?” Deegie sniffled and brought a hand to her throat. Either she had a nose full of kitten hair, or she was coming down with something. She put Bast in his carrier, snapped off the TV, and picked up her coat and purse. After standing in the open doorway and cautiously surveying her surroundings, she hurried across the snowy yard to her car, clambered in and headed down the icy street. Moley was meeting her today before work to deliver her monthly inheritance money. Weird, smelly, hunched-over Moley was the last thing she wanted to see, but money was always a welcome sight. Mr. Hack, she corrected herself, his name is Mr. Hack, not Moley. It was hard not to think of him as Moley, though. He looked just like a human/mole hybrid.

  ***

  The line at the corner store was long, and Zach Altman’s patience was growing short. Must be a new cashier, he thought, watching the harried young blonde woman at the register. Jeez, hurry it up a little, lady! I’d like to pay for my gas and raisin Danish before the next election, if possible!

  As if the line weren’t bad enough, Zach’s brother, Gilbert, was relieving his own frustration by surreptitiously sending out invisible pulses of energy to move, rattle, and knock over random items in the crowded convenience store. With a brisk snap of his fingers, he set a cardboard beer promo into motion. It swayed back and forth on the strings that suspended it from the ceiling. Then Gilbert nodded his head at the plastic bins of beef jerky sitting on the counter next to the register. The dried strips of meat began dancing and whirling in their see-through cubicles. Snap! went Gilbert’s fingers again, and a row of bagged popcorn fell gracefully, one after the other, from their display. A synchronized swimming team couldn’t have done better.

  “What, we havin’ an earthquake or somethin’ now on top of everything else?” a fat man in sweatpants asked as his eyes tracked the swaying beer sign.

  “It’s just the heater kicking on, I’m sure,” Zach said. “See the vents up there?”

  The fat man glared at him wordlessly and went back to gazing at the snack cakes.

  Zach heard gasps and surprised exclamations coming from the head of the line now; the dancing jerky strips had been noticed as well.

  Snap! A bag of jellybeans slid off its peg and fell to the floor. It scribed a perfect circle on the worn linoleum, then split itself open and spilled multi-colored candies in all directions.

  “Gilbert, knock it off!” Zach hissed under his breath.

  Gilbert smirked. “Just trying to keep myself entertained.”

  Zach cringed. If it hadn’t been for his empty gas tank, he would have ditched the raisin Danish and hustled his mischievous brother out of there. Being the only Normal One in a family of witches certainly had its trying moments.

  The fat man cupped a hand around his mouth and hollered at the cashier. “Hey! Hurry it up, will ya?”

  “Hey look, there’s Deegie.” Gilbert nudged his older brother and pointed toward the window.

  Zach looked. Yep, that was Deegie all right; he’d recognize that unruly black hair anywhere. She stood in front of the post office across the street, her hands full of mail, having a discussion of some sort with an odd-looking man in a black hat and sunglasses.

  “Who the hell is that?” Gilbert narrowed his eyes as he peered at Deegie and the stranger.

  “Hell, I dunno. Some old guy.”

  “That was a rhetorical question,” Gilbert snorted derisively. “That means it doesn’t require an answer.”

  “I know that, Gilbert!”

  Zach was curious himself and continued to watch. The stranger handed Deegie a thick envelope that she hastily tuck
ed into her purse, then he bowed theatrically, turned, and headed off down the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

  Must have had some of her mail, Zach concluded. When he turned his head away from the window, he saw, much to his great relief, that the convenience store’s manager had taken over the register, and the line was finally moving.

  “I can’t believe Deegie still wants to live in that house,” Gilbert remarked once they were back in the truck and headed for work. “Demons in the basement, ghosts in the attic, dead hobos in the woods, and now something’s roaming around killing house pets and scaring the crap out of people. She’s either very brave or very stupid.”

  “Don’t call Deegie stupid!” Zach snapped. He was still highly annoyed with his brother over the stunts he’d pulled at the store. He guided the truck into its parking spot behind Altman Heating and Air and cut the engine. “Deegie’s incredibly brave, very stubborn, and, yeah, a little bit weird, but she’s not stupid!”

  “Damn, but you’re touchy today! Did someone piss in your cereal or something?”

  Zach ignored his brother’s comment and fitted his work cap over his red hair. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”

  ***

  Deegie gazed at the pile of boxes on the floor of the back room at The Silent Cat: the delivery from yesterday still hadn’t been put away. She sniffled again and winced at the prickly sensation in her throat. I’m not getting sick, she insisted to herself. Nope, not me. Not sick at all. She counted the money in the envelope that Moley had given her before she did anything else. Despite her discomfort, she managed a smile. Thanks to her monthly inheritance money, she was growing ever closer to her dream of opening a shelter for stray cats. She put the money back in her purse and let Bast out of his carrier.