Hazel and Holly

C Snider Sara

Description

Nestled within an enchanted forest is the Grove, a community where witches and warlocks practice natural magic, brew mystical potions, and lock their cellars against beer thieving gnomes. Life is quiet and uneventful. Well, except when Hazel's long-lost father uses necromancy to trap her dead mother's soul. That simply won't do. Necromancy is forbidden in the Grove, and for good reason too. Nobody wants filthy corpses shambling around, mussing up one's garden. Hazel is determined to find her father and undo his treachery. But despite Hazel's plans of becoming a one-woman army, she can't do everything alone. It's not until wild sister Holly convinces her to leave the house for once and go to a party that Hazel finds a pair of unlikely allies in two bickering warlock brothers. Together, the four of them go on a journey that takes them out of the Grove and into a world where necromancy reigns and the dead won't respectfully stay in the grave. Hazel will do whatever it takes to stop her father and save her mother's soul. Even if it means turning to necromancy. Even if it means losing her friends. Because they would never help a necromancer. Would they?

Sujets

• Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: Double Beast Publishing
• Date de parution: 16 mai 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9789187657085
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Hazel and Holly
A Fantasy Adventure


Sara C. Snider
Also by Sara C. Snider



The Tree and Tower Series:
The Thirteenth Tower
A Shadowed Spirit


The Forgotten Web: A Novella
Copyright © 2019 Sara C. Snider
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
Published by Double Beast Publishing. First Edition
This book is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, places, events, and incidences are drawn from the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Cover design by Jennifer Zemanek
ISBN 978-91-87657-08-5
For Lori
Jennifer
and Melissa
Sisters extraordinaire
Contents



1. Death Before Dawn

2. Seamless Dreams

3. An Unwelcome Visit

4. Masked Revelry

5. Dinnertime Drama

6. Spoil Sport

7. Hawthorn’s Help

8. Pyrus and His Particular Price

9. Tea with Tum

10. Odd Possibilities

11. Skyward Promises

12. Wyr Weariness

13. Aired Affections

14. Teatime Tribulation

15. Willowed Remorse

16. The Tiresome Trail

17. Homeward Heart

18. Haunted Heart

19. Elder Night

20. The Long Dark

21. Elder Dawn

22. Sorrow, Bones, and Blood

23. Hallowed Hearts

24. Finding Forgiveness

25. Dark Decisions, Dark Deeds

26. In the Midst of Midnight

27. Archived Amity

28. Soup and Secrets

29. Harvest Home

30. Early Ambitions and Ablutions

31. Witnessing Trouble

32. Meeting the Mayor

33. Disastrous Discipline

34. Chester’s Field Day

35. Though the Keyhole

36. Milled Messages

37. Cats and Contemplation

38. Enshrined

39. The Sea of Severed Stars

40. Odder Possibilities

41. A Love Tempered in Death

42. A Reluctant Ally

43. Summoning Visions

44. Return to the Shrine

45. Reunions

46. Locks and Shadows

47. An Imparted Plea

48. Shadowed Depths

49. Cold, Quintessential Comfort

50. Crossroads Conundrum

51. A Star-Enshrined Heart

52. Of Mushrooms and Men

53. Tormented Love

54. Familiar Fellowship

55. Stained Glass Memories

56. Before the Fall

57. A Return to Light

58. An Unadorned End

59. Aggravated Acceptance

60. A Future Found

61. Fastened Friendship

62. Heart Fire


Dear Reader

Acknowledgments

About the Author
H azel peered at the twilit sky as she hurried along the wooded path. The lantern she clutched in a tight fist swung to and fro, casting erratic shadows though the way had begun to lighten with the approaching dawn. Her visit would be brief this time. She’d been too liberal with the valerian tea. Hazel wasn’t one to oversleep, but restfulness had eluded her lately.
The skirts of her dress rustled against the brush and bushes, a rasping whisper as if the woods themselves hushed her ungainly approach.
“I won’t be long,” she said. No one was there, but one never knew when out in the woods.
She passed through a wrought iron gate set within a crumbling stone wall and came to a single-room stone cottage nearly overtaken with ivy and brambles of sweet briar. The water-warped door stood propped against the door frame into which it no longer fit. Hazel slipped past it and stepped inside.
The wavering light of her lamp failed to push back the deep gloom within the cottage. She fetched a handful of sticks from a corner, placed them in the hearth, and used her lantern to ignite them. She blew on the gentle flames until the cold coals flared alight.
Hazel lingered by the fire. It was always so damp in this place, as if the chill seeped into her bones as soon as she stepped over the threshold. But she was late, and it wouldn’t do to tarry too long.
She walked to a table upon which sat an ewer and basin. Water dripping from a hole in the roof had filled the ewer, and Hazel poured some of the water into the bowl. From her pocket, she pulled out a piece of honey cake wrapped in cloth and crumbled the cake into the water.
She looked out the window at the lightening sky, but the sun still hadn’t risen.
“You are late.”
Hazel turned and found Willow warming her pale hands by the feeble fire. “I overslept.”
Willow smiled, turned her back on the hearth, and sauntered over to Hazel. She reached out to touch Hazel’s hair, but Hazel moved away. “Still frightened, daughter?”
“I’m not afraid,” Hazel said. “I just prefer not to be touched by the dead.”
Willow waved a hand, then leaned over the bowl. She took a deep breath, opening her mouth as she lingered over the water. She straightened. “Honey cake.” Then she smiled. “What did you used to call it? Sunny cake?” Willow laughed. “You always thought it made the day brighter.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Not that long.”
“We don’t have much time. The sun will soon be up.”
Willow sighed. “Very well.” She put on a serious expression, clasped her hands together, and in a stern voice said, “What is your progress?”
Hazel frowned. “I’m doing this for your benefit, you know. I’m not the one with her soul trapped in a geas. One would think you’d care more about your own well-being.”
Willow gave a short laugh. “Well-being? My dear, I am dead. I am not a being at all, well or otherwise.”
“So you’re happy then? Is that it? You’re happy to haunt this decrepit, rotting heap, waiting with each new moon for me to come by with a crumb of cake and to stir the fire? Because that’s all you’ll ever have, and when I’m gone, you won’t have even that. That doesn’t concern you?”
Willow tightened her jaw and closed her eyes. “Leave it alone, Hazel.”
“I will not leave it alone! He did this to you—your own husband. My father. Was this part of your arrangement? Is this what you bargained for? What was it you used to tell me? He’ll come when needed? Well, where is he now?!”
Willow stood there, her body trembling and her eyes clenched shut, but she said nothing.
“Answer me!”
A cold wind gusted through the room, extinguishing the fire and knocking the air from Hazel’s lungs.
Willow bared her teeth and grabbed Hazel’s chin in an icy grip. “The geas cannot be undone, whatever you might think. It is done, and I will not give him the satisfaction of my misery!” She let go of Hazel’s chin and put her hand over her eyes.
Hazel rubbed her jaw, working warmth back into her chilled skin. “There is a way, Mother. I will find it. I will find Father and make him undo what he’s done.”
Willow gave a mirthless laugh. “And what is your progress, daughter? What have you found so far?”
“I will find him.”
Willow walked to a window with ivy growing through the glassless panes. “The sun is rising, Hazel. Give Holly my love.”
“Mother…”
“Do not bring honey cake next time.” She slipped out the door just as sunlight streamed through the shattered windows.
Hazel watched as the dawn chased away the gloom, lessening the damp that hung in the air. Outside, birds began to chirp, but their melody did nothing to soothe the sorrow that had settled in her heart. She picked up the basin and threw the water and cake crumbs out a window. Then, casting a single look behind her, Hazel slipped out the door.
H azel followed the wooded path back to the cottage she shared with her sister. The sun was well up by the time she returned, and the new warmth pulled the heady scent of honeysuckle into the air. She eyed the herb patch as she passed through the garden, noted a number of red mites on the hyssop and lemon balm, and made a mental note to return later with a bowl of soapy water to wash the pests away.
She rounded a corner and found a young man standing near the front door, his back against the wall as Holly, with a broom in hand, stood too close to him than was proper or polite.
“What’s going on?” Hazel said.
Holly turned, and the young man slumped as he let out a heavy breath. Her sister grinned, and her round cheeks flushed like apple blossoms. “We have a visitor!” she said, brushing away a few wisps of honey-golden hair that had escaped from her kerchief.
“I can see that,” Hazel said. “Why is he here?”
Holly blinked. “I… I don’t know.” She turned to the young man, and he cringed back against the wall. “Why are you here?”
The young man held up an envelope sealed with a glob of purple wax. “Delivery for the Witch Hazel sisters,” he said in a feeble voice.
Holly squealed and snatched the envelope from his hand. Dropping the broom, she broke the seal and opened the letter. The young man slinked away and ran out of sight.
Hazel picked up the broom and propped it against the wall. “What does it say?”
Holly held the letter in a white-knuckled grip, her lips moving as she silently read to herself. Then she looked up and beamed at Hazel. “It’s an invitation!”
“To what?”
But Holly just dropped the letter and ran into the house.
Hazel sighed. The girl was exhausting. She picked up the letter and peered at an elaborate, scrolling hand adorned with motifs of rabbits, acorns, birds, and trees. It was ridiculously lavish, which made the reading laborious at best. Hazel was tempted to throw it on the trash heap but didn’t for fear of not being able to get an answer out of Holly. Ignoring the ornamentation as best she could, she made out the following message:
To the most excellent Sisters of Witchery, Hazel and Holly,
You are cordially invited to the estate of Hawthorn and Hemlock, Brothers Extraordinaire of Warlockery, Sorcery, and Intrigue, for a night of Magic, Enchantment, and Fabulous Feasting. Present yourselves in your finest attire, along with this invitation, at the Brothers’ estate at eight o’clock on the 23rd night of Ascending Midren, and brace yourselves for what is surely to be the most ineffable event of your entire lives.
As always: Punctuality is of the essence; lollygaggers will be turned away at the gate.