The Coven's Son

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Prologue

The room was alive. Tables shook, lights swayed, instruments fell. The delivery nurse with long, painted nails and sweat dripping from the tip of her nose steadied the wailing woman from falling off the gurney. She lifted the arm rails and clicked them into place, providing the laboring woman with something to hold onto, giving her bruised hand some relief from the woman’s vise-like grip. The other two nurses awaited further instruction from the doctor who steadied himself at the feet of the patient, looking more like he was ready to catch a football than a baby.

Hold the gurney steady! he instructed one of them.

The floor trembled as the earthquake gained strength. The door to the room swung open. It was the father. Without a word he ran to the woman and wrapped his arm around her and wiped the dampness from her forehead. Plaster from the ceiling flaked onto the floor all around them.

Nurse! the doctor yelled, as he reached for a platform of tools on wheels that had rolled just out of reach during the commotion. The nurse hurried to move the table back into place.

The panting woman screamed from her hospital bed despite being comforted by the father of her baby. She wanted a natural birth, free from any forms of treatment that would ease her pain. She wanted her baby untouched by pharmaceuticals that could be transferred into the child’s body from her own. She thought it selfish to want to numb the joys of childbirth, but at this moment, between heavy breathing, shaking walls, moving ceilings, and excruciating pain that could only be described as being ripped in two, she began to regret this decision.

One more push, the nurse with long and seemingly out-of-code acrylic nails said, urging the soon-to-be mother.

With one final bloodcurdling scream, the woman pushed her baby completely out just as a blinding flash of lightning cracked across the sky from the window on the far end of the room. There was a deafening pop as the cabinet just behind the doctor tore halfway from the wall and crashed onto the foot of the nurse holding the bed still. She screamed in pain.

It’s a boy, the doctor said, clearly relieved that the ordeal was over. The first baby I’ve ever delivered during an earthquake. He smiled, obviously exhausted and shaken. The father beamed with pride on seeing his new baby boy for the first time. The doctor handed the woman her baby as the nurse tinkered with the fallen cabinet, mustering the strength to move it from her colleague’s foot.

What is this made of? she questioned as she struggled to heave the cabinet off.

The doctor glanced back. Oak, he said as he turned back to the parents. The father smiled and shook the doctor’s strong, clammy hand. The mother’s long strawberry-blonde hair was plastered to her forehead from sweat, but a weight was lifted from her shoulders. She held her baby in her arms knowing full well that the earthquake they had experienced was not natural. It was her son.

Chapter 1

The teenager pulls his head through the neck of his black T-shirt printed with snakes in the style of old tattoos running along the side as he runs from his bedroom at the end of the long hallway. Oak! I’m getting in the car, let’s go! a female voice yelled.

I’m coming! he yells as he slides around the corner and slips on his shoes. He opens the door to the outside and looks at his mother standing in the driveway. Her long golden hair blows in the gentle breeze as she looks directly at him with her baby blue eyes.

She puts her hands on her hips and asks, Did you take your garlic?

Oak shivers and reluctantly goes back inside to grab a clove of garlic off the kitchen counter. He always makes it a point to run late for everything in the hopes that his mom will be too distracted to remember the raw garlic clove he is required to take every day for his safety. He unwraps the clove from its papery shell and pops it into his mouth. The overwhelmingly strong scent hits his nose the second he bites it open and begins to chew. Hot and overbearing spiciness fills his whole mouth as his eyes water. He chews as fast as he can while heading back out the front door to his mom waiting outside.

She hands him a bottle of water as he gets in the car. Your grandmother just finished performing raindrop therapy on a client of hers and is on her way to pick up dinner. I told her we would pick up some rosewood oil on our way to see her tonight.

Oak chugs the water as they drive down the street on their way to his grandmother’s house. He wipes off his mouth with the back of his hand. Can we get some mistletoe while we are there? His eyes are large as he desperately hopes his mother will agree, although the way she is side-eyeing him doesn’t lead him to believe she will go for it.

You know the garlic works better. It’s stronger and less risky.

But raw garlic is so disgusting. I just want a break!

I’ll think about it, she tells him as they turn into the parking lot of a small building with a tall pointy black roof, wind chimes, and streamers decorated all along the front entrance.

Oak looks down at his feet. I’ll think about it usually means no. He knows that mistletoe is a parasitic plant that if pinned to his clothing will absorb the abundance of energy flowing through his body at all times, but the risk of it falling off during the day puts him more at risk than ingesting garlic, which contains his power from the inside. But, I’m getting older and it’s much more under control now than it was!

Enough, his mother interrupts. I said I’ll think about it. Her stern gaze turns soft as she remembers how much she hated eating garlic as a child. She can’t even step foot into an Italian restaurant without her stomach churning. Oak steps out of the car and kicks the front tire of the car before walking around to enter the store. Are we still throwing tantrums at fourteen?

He ignores her and heads to the front door of the pointy-roofed building. He pulls the door open and allows his mother to enter first while he reads the name of the shop imprinted in bold letters on the glass of the door. Divinity. They have been here many times. Oak likes to peruse the walls looking at all the colorful crystals and inhaling the heavy incense perfuming the place. He always winds up with smudges on his nose from getting too close to the powdery sticks.

As soon as he enters behind his mother he catches the smell of warm lavender and freshly burned sage. Immediately his shoulders fall and both he and his mother relax instinctively.

Merry meet! exclaims the robust gray-haired woman behind the counter, a small lilac streak of hair falling just below her eyebrow. She holds her arms out in welcome as what seem to be hundreds of bangles and bracelets jingle around her arms. She has on at least twenty necklaces, with endless earrings pierced all the way up and down her lobes and cartilage, some dangling, some studs.

Oak’s mother walks over and gives the woman a hug, stretching over the counter, barely able to reach the woman. Merry meet to you, Hyacinth.

Dev, it’s been too long. You can’t possibly have been working this whole time without a visit, Hyacinth says.

Business is a bit slow at the moment because of that new book of affirmations. Everyone is a do-it-yourself witch now, Dev tells her. But I was just here last month. Dev works as a freelance spirit catcher, observing spirits through the use of a special camera. She is the firstborn child of Pepe and Marion Melt.

That book has every woman on earth thinking they can conjure the craft with sticky notes, Hyacinth says as she rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh. I’ve lost so much business because people think they can take things into their own hands, she tells Dev as she begins to rifle through a box underneath the counter.

Dev responds, Luckily it’s just sticky notes. My mother, Marion, needs some rosewood oil for her raindrop therapy sessions and there’s no one trying to replicate that. Marion runs a healing touch clinic where she employs a government-certified Reiki healer while she herself performs raindrop therapy.

Hyacinth pulls a bag out of the box she was fiddling around in and holds it up to Dev. Just got this in. Palo Santo. I know you like it more than sage so I saved it.

Dev’s eyes light up as she snatches the bag from the clerk. Yes, yes yes yes, she says excitedly. Ever since the mysterious book of affirmations hit the market and caused the mainstream media to bring light to the occult, Palo Santo has been a rare commodity. That stupid book says to burn Palo Santo while posting your affirmations to your mirror. It’s sold out everywhere, and bought by people who have no idea what they are doing, let alone have the ability to use it. Second and third children, even!

Hyacinth scoffs at the idea that a second- or third-born child could have any abilities beyond being able to tell if milk has soured without smelling it. Yes, that book makes no mention of the fact that the firstborn is the only child able to perform any rituals due to siphoning the majority of the energy a mother produces during pregnancy, leaving the second child and onward with nothing but a slight hint of knowing when their food is burning on the stove, Hyacinth says, turning her stern sentence into a joke as they both chuckle.

Where is Oak? Dev asks, looking around the mystical shop.

Oak rounds the corner holding many things in his arms. Here I am. He plops the items onto the counter.

Looks like he’s done the hard part for you, Hyacinth says, ringing up the Palo Santo first and then beginning on the other items. Two chicken feet, rosewood oil, cascarilla.

Oh! Dev realizes. We need mugwort! She jogs from the counter to the other end of the store. Hyacinth gives Oak a narrowed look as she scans the last item and bags it just as Dev comes back with the final purchase. She places the bag of mugwort into the clerk’s hand and removes her wallet from her deep burgundy leather purse with a sigil burned into the side. A swirl and a loop create a magical pattern that distracts a thief’s attention away from her bag.

Dev pays Hyacinth and turns and walks away from the counter toward the exit of the store. As Oak begins to follow, Hyacinth gives him a mischievous grin and he tries to pretend he doesn’t see it. In the car, Dev hands Oak the bag of goods. But, not before noticing a dripping from the bottom of the bag.

What’s wet? his mother asks, swaying the bag away from them so as not to drip water on their clothes. Oak cringes as he reaches into the bag and pulls out a small snippet of a green plant with two tiny white berries attached to the end of a vial of water. Dev looks at him sternly. Fresh mistletoe? Oak’s eyes plead, on the verge of tears, to let him keep the only break he can get from eating raw garlic.

Three days. That’s it. I don’t trust it to be strong enough to go on any longer than that, Dev says, half angry and half saddened. She hates how miserable the garlic makes Oak. If he loses control of himself though, he is going to hate much more than just garlic.

Oak’s eyes shine with tears of happiness as he places the plant gently back into the bag as they head off to his grandmother’s house. Halfway there, Oak hears a rumbling from his stomach as he feels the bubbling of bile and acid gurgling around in his lower belly.

Are you okay? Is it the garlic? his mom asks him.

Oak hesitates to answer but realizes that’s not what it is. No, I don’t think so, just hungry, he says and he looks over at his mother and gives her a reassuring smile. This was a perfect opportunity to continue to paint the garlic in a bitter light but he decides it isn’t worth it to complain too much.

Well, we’re almost to Grandma’s and she’ll have dinner ready for us. Don’t pin your mistletoe on until the morning. Since you already had your garlic today, we don’t want your ability fully suppressed. I want you to work on some enchantments tonight with your grandmother while I go out with your father after he gets home from work, Dev says as she brings the car to a slow stop at a red traffic light.

What kind of enchantments? Oak asks, curious because it seems she has something specific in mind.

I want you to enchant your own safety pin for the mistletoe. Impatiently, Dev taps her hands on the steering wheel of the car, waiting for the light to turn green.

Oh. Oak shakes his head in agreement.

Oak is the first son born as a first child to the family in over two hundred and fifty years, and Dev tends to be overprotective at times, so Oak is cautious not to express too much excitement when she gives him a little wiggle room. Males born of the occult tend to carry much more power than their female counterparts and siphon far more magic from their mothers during pregnancy. Which is why Dev is so overly cautious about suppressing Oak’s power. No one really knows how to handle the strength of a firstborn male.

They round the corner and head toward the end of the cul-de-sac while passing by beautifully aged oak trees that are sensually dropping gold, red, and brown leaves onto the ground that flutter up into the sky and twirl before dropping back down onto the slowly yellowing lawns below.

We’re here, Dev says as she puts the car in park and opens the door.

Oak puts his hand on his mother’s shoulder as she is about to exit the car. She turns back to look at him. Thank you, he says quietly, and opens his side of the car and gets out. Dev is glad she allowed him the mistletoe after seeing such pure appreciation from her usually moody son.

They walk together to the front door of Pepe and Marion’s beautiful two-story Victorian-style home. Every detail of the home is painted a different color of mesmerizing hues. The scalloping details above the windows are a salmon pink while the trim that outlines the entire house is a deep fuchsia. The base of the house is painted a purple so deep it is nearly black, but the intricate little nooks of wooden ornamentals are a flashy gold. They walk up to the bright plum door and use the large brass lion’s head knocker to indicate they have arrived.

Did you know a bright plum door means witches live here? Dev asks her son as she smiles at him.

Witches?! Oak screeches as he playfully pretends to run away from the house, nearly tripping on the concrete edging details lined around his grandmother’s walkway. The plum door swings open, light shining on every angle of the door, showing a subtle glittery sheen as they come face-to-face with Marion. The crone of the family is wearing a long black cloak, open in the front, allowing you to see her lilac flower-print dress that stops just at the knee. Her hair, somewhat outdated, gray with blonde highlights, is layered all the way from the top of her eyebrows to the bottom of her shoulders. She smiles when she sees her kin.

Grandma! Oak yells as he gives her a giant hug, being careful not to be too rough on the old woman’s back.

Hi, Mom, Dev greets her, walking in.

Oak hands Marion the bag of goodies they purchased at Divinity. Oh, what’s this? This is far more than rosewood oil. Marion fumbles through the bag and pulls out the mistletoe. I suppose this is for you? she questions, handing it over to Oak. Oak shyly takes it from her.

Yes, we thought we could give it a try. But only for three days! Dev interrupts, looking for approval from her mother.

Oh, lighten up, Dev, the old crone says, smiling at Oak and giving him a nod. We would’ve given you this choice if fresh mistletoe were readily available during your younger years, she says as if Dev were still a child, making her feel small.

But he is a male, Dev protests, only to be interrupted by her mother

And you are a female! she says, throwing up her hands in mockery and wiggling her fingers in the air around the house, stomping around like an angry spirit.

Oak laughs and is relieved that his grandma is supportive of the idea of suppressing his energy in a way that doesn’t make him smell like the son of Van Helsing.

Marion leads them into her apothecary to restock the newly bought rosewood oil. The room smells of a powerful incense that makes everyone who enters feel motivated. What is that smell, Mother? Dev asks.

I’m burning a combination of purple statice and vervain together. It’s a little cocktail I mixed up to make you feel creative and ready for crafting! Marion answers excitedly.

The room is covered from floor to ceiling with shelves filled with books and row upon row of jars, intertwined with vines and greenery. Marion takes the rosewood oil tincture and places it among a selection of many other oils in the room.

Grandma? Oak asks, curiously looking around the room. What is it that you do? What is raindrop therapy?

Marion looks at him for a moment before realizing that in his entire life of being involved in the craft, she has never taught him anything on the subject of her work. Oh my dear. Raindrop therapy utilizes aromatherapy oils and reflexology massage to cleanse and renew the body. I use a combination of oils based on the person’s ailments to create a cure.

Oak thinks for a moment, remembering the smell and how it changed his mood when entering the magical shop, and how his grandmother’s apothecary affects him in the same way but gives him a different feeling. He figures that this is how his grandma’s massage works, using different types of oils to change the mood of the person she’s working on. Oh okay.

Dev, unsure of how Oak never realized what exactly his grandmother does, reaches her hands up to pull her light strawberry-blonde hair away from her face. As she does, she catches a glimpse of her watch. Let’s have dinner. I’ve got to get going soon, and this one needs to learn how to enchant a safety pin, she says as she exits the room, twirling around the corner as if she is gliding on air. She has a date with her husband—she hasn’t had one in a very long time—and her excitement is starting to show.

Marion places a hand on Oak’s shoulder and begins walking him out of the apothecary, closing the door behind them. Once your mother leaves, we will get to work on that enchantment. I have some ideas to try!

Oak smiles. He can barely stand the excitement of enchanting the pin so that he can go three whole days without that stupid garlic. They head to the kitchen where Dev is laying out the food Marion bought for dinner. A rotisserie chicken, steamed vegetables, coleslaw, and potato wedges all come out of the bag. Marion takes over and motions Dev to have a seat.

Dinner is mostly silent aside from the periodic tapping of Dev’s fingernails on the table. She is clearly very anxious and excited for her date with her husband. Oak smirks as he eats the rest of his dinner, knowing that it has been a long time since his parents have been able to get some alone time, what with how much his father works.

Alan is a hardworking provider for his family whom Oak almost never sees because of his work schedule.

Dev stands up, taking her plate and moving it to the sink. She sighs. Guess I ought to get going, she says, with a twinkle in her eye.

There’s a sudden loud grinding sound as Marion jumps up out of her seat, causing her chair to slide against the rich, dark hardwood floor. No, I don’t think so.

Dev and Oak look at each other in confusion.

You’re not going anywhere looking like that!

Oak shows a sign of relief when he realizes nothing is wrong, but Dev looks even more panicked.

We are a family of the occult! We mustn’t ever attend company with a man without ensuring he is completely bewitched! Marion cackles heartily. She grabs Dev by the hand and pulls her out of the kitchen. Come, child, we shall show you our women’s secrets to enchanting our men, she says to Oak while they disappear up the stairs to the second floor of the house. He really doesn’t care to know these secrets, but this is the perfect time for him to watch some magic.

Oak hurries after them. He finds them in Marion’s bedroom, Dev sitting at a brightly lit vanity in the corner of the room, just outside the master bathroom. We redden the lips for seduction, Marion says as she dips her lip