Date: Sat, 28 Apr 2018 05:05:56 +0000
From: Willow Lemon <willowlemon@outlook.com>
Subject: Coven, ch. 1

Author's note: Here's a new story for you all, but an old one for me. I
wrote this a long, long, long...long time ago. I won't say how long or I'll
give away my age, but there are a few references that may allude to it if
you're astute.

I'll go ahead and apologize upfront for any typos. I'm shit at editing my
own stuff and don't have anyone to help me out with it.

I've started an Instagram page for my writing and other fun tid bits. I'm
planning on posting character pics along with the story, so please follow
me: @willowlemon

Let me know if you like my story or want to be put on a mailing list for
upcoming stories: willowlemon@outlook.com

There isn't any romance in this first chapter, but bear with, I promise
there is plenty to come.

Please donate to Nifty for being such fantastic hosts for our work.

COVEN

      CHAPTER ONE

      He took a deep breath in.
      Opening his eyes, Kemper was confused to see a textured layer of blue
veiling his sight.  He blew his breath out. Taking a few moments to realize
that he had managed to pull his cornflower blue comforter over his head in
the night again, he didn't attempt to brush it away.
      He'd had the dream again, and it remained repetitiously the same. As
ever, he stood on the balmy beach in the middle of the night, staring out
over the darkened, steely sea.  In an instant, a brilliant flash caused the
velvety black waters to glow, a shimmering light that turned the ocean
iridescent, and appeared so warm and inviting that he always longed to go
to it, but his feet were rooted to the ground, his body was immobile.
      And as always, he saw the ocean first before he noticed the two
figures further up the beach on either side of him, his constant companions
in this dream.  A man and a woman with blurred, smudged faces staring out
over the water, completely mesmerized by the luminous marine.
	There were times when he would have the dream many nights in a row,
and others when he would go an entire year without it interrupting his
sleep. And from the first time he had dreamt of that seaside scene when he
was thirteen years old-coincidently the same day as his birthday-to the one
he had last night, the dream was always the same: dark water, light water,
hazy featured people.
      The dream had been coming more frequently, though.
	Reaching his arms overhead, stretching, he released a groan, and
then bringing his legs into it he attempted to stretch the image of
illuminated water away. He threw the sateen comforter off and groggily made
his way to the bathroom, stopping to twist the knobs on the polished moon
white marble bathtub. Taking a bottle from a nearby cabinet, he poured
lavender and clary sage oil into the running water, foaming the surface.
      He slunk down into the steaming aromatic tub. He felt extremely tired
for just having woke up after a full night of sleep; he had even gone to
bed early. The dream crept back to the forefront of his mind, as if he had
really forgotten it. The dream itself wasn't that disturbing. He always
felt at ease standing on the shadowy beach.  It was the reoccurrence of the
dream, over and over, unchanged for over a decade that bothered him most.
      But then again, he'd been having it for so long, it now seemed to be
part of him, a congruent piece of his life. So much so, that as soon as he
had been able, he'd bought a beach house on an island in the Bahamas, the
private strand looking eerily familiar.
	Where that piece fit, in a life that was full of holes, was still
the question that knocked on his door.
	Disrupting his thoughts, a dove gray ball of fluff jumped up on the
side of the oversized tub. "Well, good morning Miss Augustine. How are
you?" As if she knew what her owner had said, the cat gave a short mew
back. Augustine then proceeded to play with the bubbles in the bath as she
did every morning.
	After marinating for a while, Kemper got out, dried off, and
dressed for the day. He slinked into a set of linen drawstring pants and a
cotton tank top before heading downstairs, through the kitchen, and out the
back door to the garden. He took his time ambling down the winding rock
path and past the pond with the cascading fountain, clipping off various
flowers along the way. White roses were his favorite and he had many of
them in his wicker basket, along with blooms of blue delphinium, pink
lady's-glove, hollyhocks, lavender, and a myriad others from his perfumed
garden.
      It was an ideal day and he lingered by the pond watching the koi
swim, allowing the morning sun to play on his shoulders. After more than
his fair share of lazing about, doing absolutely nothing but daydream of
one day being in love, having an amorous body next to his, using all his
senses to touch him, he finally went inside.
      Arranging the day's fresh bouquet in a Tiffany painted vase, he told
his housekeeper Angela, "This arrangement will go on the breakfast table
today, I think."
	Angela, smiled at him saying, "They are sure to look lovely there."
      French toast and sausages with a plate of sliced kiwi were already
waiting for Kemper on the table. "Angela, you're a God send!"  He kissed
her plump cheek and sat down to eat.

* * *
      After eating too much breakfast-this was turning out to be a far more
indulgent day than he had intended-Kemper proceeded to his study and booted
up the computer.  First, he checked his daily horoscope, out of habit:
Pisces, trust other's advice more than your own today and that old flame
can be rekindled if you wish it. It was correct some of the time, but he
would wait and see who was giving him advice before deciding about today's
premonition. And there wasn't a single old flame he had any desire to be
rehashed.
      He checked his e-mail to see if there were any recent developments
that he needed to be aware of on the business front. Four years ago he
started his own company called Aroma Essentials. He embarked on the
internet selling bath oils, lotions, and mist sprays, all made with pure
essential oils, some made from flowers from his very own garden. Orders
came in so rapidly he came close to having to shut down because he couldn't
keep up with demand. His friend, and now CFO, Chuck Langston came to his
aid, though.
      He met Chuck at Texas Tech University. They had the same freshman
economics class.  Kemper knew instantly that they would be terrific pals
when Chuck sat next to him in class one day and told him how marvelous his
bookbag and shoes were. So, he and Chuck became the closest of friends
through his years at college. And when Kemper started his internet venture
their senior year-as if he didn't have enough to do with a full school
schedule and part-time clerical job-Chuck stayed up with him at nights, up
to his elbows making lotions and sprays until Kemper was able to procure
manufacturers. At least they were well-moisturized elbows in the end. But
Kemper gave him a job as CFO, a high salary, and an expense account to make
up for it when they had retained distribution deals with retailers across
the US. He knew that if it weren't for Chuck, his business wouldn't be the
highly successful venture it was today.
       So, with Chuck's assistance, a couple of classes on website
building, and some mulish determination, he had managed to keep up. And now
his products were sold in major department stores, he employed a large
staff to handle the continued sales on the internet that was as big as
ever, and Aroma Essentials was about to begin expanding abroad. He never
imagined that what he had longed to do for majority of his life would bring
him so much fortune. Learning to make his own lotion and lip balm when he
was ten, then perfecting it over the years more than paid off. He took a
chance on a small dream to others, and it was the best decision of his
life. So now, for the most part, he had the luxury of sitting back and
overseeing final goings-on from his island home.
	Everything was normal this morning. Sales had gone up six percent
in the mid-west last quarter due to a billboard campaign. He went over some
ideas for a new print ad and some proposals for going overseas. Everything
was still in the start-up phase for these projects, particularly the
overseas campaign. Kemper's instinct told him not yet.  Soon, but not yet.
      He trusted very little in his life, but thankfully he could always
depend on his instincts, they never steered him wrong. It was the options
that he was given to choose from at times that gave him problems.
      He was still reviewing his e-mails, when the phone rang. It was
Veronica, his best friend since kindergarten, and at times each other's
only friend or family. She lived in New Orleans now and had a husband who
was away on business often. Because of that, Veronica was habitually
lonesome; this, of course, was the reason for today's call.
	"Hey Kemp! What ya doing?" Veronica asked a little too nonchalant.
	"The usual, going over business stuff. What's up?"
	"What? A friend can't call another friend just to say hello and see
what's going on?  Something has to be *up*?" Veronica was trying her best
to hide her true feelings, and not doing a very convincing job at it.
	"Ronnie, I know you. Don't give me that calling to say hello
crap. So, *what's up*?  Is it Todd again?" He closed his inbox and leaned
back in the tufted brown leather desk chair.
	"I hate you! How do you always know me so well? Yes, it's
Todd. He's gone to Dallas for two whole weeks, and I'm bored out of my
mind! I've managed the first week okay, but this second one is becoming,
well...tedious."
	"Tedious?  Why tedious?"
      "It takes effort to pretend that you're okay with being alone all the
time in a city with few friends and no best friend. Why can't you live
closer so I could just come over and hang out? You know, like old
times. All we ever needed was a big bowl of buttery popcorn and a bunch of
romance movies and we were set!"
	"Oh, please don't start the 'eight and a half reasons why I should
move back to the mainland' list again." Veronica had the tendency to recite
this list she had made when she occasionally attempted to persuade Kemper
to live closer. Knowing that a romance flick and popcorn was number five on
the list, he tried to head Veronica off at the pass before she segued into
number six: You will miss fall and winter eventually. "You know that I've
always wanted to live in the Bahamas. Remember that poster I got from that
travel agency to hang in my room? It had the sailboat and palm trees and
you would pick on me for staring at it all the time. It wasn't just a
passing fancy, I love it here. Besides, I thought we were talking about
you.  You could always move here," Kemper submitted with an obvious smile
in the statement.
	"Ha, ha!" she sarcastically replied. "We can't all have your
wonderful and exotic life. But sometimes I wish I could move away,"
Veronica sounded almost on the verge of tears. She attempted to hide her
brimming lids by saying, "I suppose staring at your Bahamas poster was more
realistic than my ogling my Brad Pitt pin-up all the time."
	He could almost see his blonde, sweet-natured friend trying on a
lopsided curve to her mouth, determined to be strong. "Cheer up sweetie,
it'll be okay." Kemper never let her get away with her attempts at
disguising her true feelings. "How about this? Let me check with my travel
agent and see if I can get a private charter to New Orleans and we can go
shopping all day. See if we can't shop those blues away. Sound like a
plan?"
	"Oh Kemper, that is exactly what I was hoping you would say! I
didn't want to ask you to come and visit, *again*, because it seems like
I'm always asking.  You don't mind, really?"
	"No, I honestly don't mind at all. You've been my best friend
forever, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you."
	"You're crazy and I love you for it. Text me when you get the final
plans and I'll pick you up from the airport so we can get started with
shopping right away. Later!"
	Veronica hung up without waiting for an answer. She did that when
she got excited, it's something he had grown accustomed to over the
years. That and cheering her up out of these melancholy slumps she plunges
into. Veronica did the same for him, though. Veronica, a Scorpio, and
Kemper, a Pisces, two water signs always needed encouraging from time to
time.  But it was also a reason that they are such great friends.
      He and Veronica had remained close through the years, their
friendship lasting through childhood and adolescence when most tended to
trade, upgrade, or demote friends when they switched from elementary to
junior high, then again from junior high to high school. They did have
their share of childish squabbles, though. They had only ever fought over
one guy, and looking back on it now, Kemper had to laugh that it had been
over a pimple-faced boy named Casey. What had they been thinking?
      But withstanding the persecution of their unfortunate circumstances
of living with families who were unable to keep them both regularly clothed
in Guess jeans and Cole Hann loafers-which was all that mattered at their
school-gave them a stronger bond then they'd already had, adding fuel to
their creative fires. He often recalled some of the imaginary plays he and
Veronica would put on when they were children, always set in far-away
places, acting out the people they were ready to be. And when they were
older, they would discuss their dreams instead of physically pretending
them. Some of his favorite times had been reading novels to Veronica as she
painted, using the flowers and vines from her mother's garden for her
models.
      Neither of them had had much to be happy about; families who were
more interested in telling them what they did wrong then what they did
right, kids who teased their Mervyn's clothes, but they gave each other
something to be happy about. True kindred spirits in a time and place,
where as kids, they felt like it was the darkest, most desolate place on
Earth to be.
	Calling his travel agent, he made plans to catch a flight leaving
in an hour that would get him there by 3:30pm New Orleans time. Thankfully
the weather was clear between Cat Island and Louisiana. He also had his
agent book his usual hotel, Loews.
      His stay would only be for one night. He always did a turnaround
trip. Todd seemed almost jealous of their relationship, so as not to cause
any friction, he did not stay too long unless invited by both of them.

* * *
       Kemper called a car for the airport before he went upstairs to pack
and get ready, he had no more than set the receiver down before it rang out
at him. "Hey!  What are you doing?"  Liz asked lazily in Kemper's ear.
	He and Liz had been friends for about a year now. Liz lived on Cat
Island, on the other side, but that wasn't far. She worked at one of the
luxurious resorts on the island as a masseur.  Kemper went a few times a
month to the Blue Rock Beach Resort to get pampered a little.  There were
more than a few spa resorts on Cat Island to choose from, but this one
struck him right away because blue was his favorite color, so he was
immediately drawn to it.
	It was absolutely providential that he had been lucky enough to
pick the resort where Liz worked because the two of them had struck up an
instantaneous friendship. The first time Liz walked in to give him a
massage, Kemper couldn't help but notice right away, Liz was gorgeous. Her
short mop of curls fell lightly over her forehead, occasionally getting in
her line of vision. She had a sleek nose and chin that any model would die
for. Her mocha complexion was flawless, making Kemper wonder why she wasn't
in Milan on a runway instead of rubbing down tourists.
	Liz's beauty may have drawn him in, but her lively, carefree
personality won Kemper over. They chatted spiritedly all through the
massage and they were both surprised when Liz looked up at the clock and
the hour was up. On his second visit to Blue Rock Beach, he discovered
through conversation that Liz also taught yoga, so she began giving him
private sessions for some extra off-the-books cash. Soon after, there
wasn't a week that went by where Kemper didn't talk to or see her.
	He learned that Liz did indeed used to model, mostly in Paris, but
didn't like being away from her mother so much, who was occasionally ill
and had been born and raised here and refused to leave Cat Island at
all. So, Liz came back and picked up her old job, saying that it didn't
matter to her one way or another, but Kemper thought that she either missed
her Paris lifestyle, or picked up some bad habits, because Liz's partying
was unrestrained at times.
	"I was actually on my way upstairs to pack," Kemper told her.
	"Pack? Where you going? Someplace fabulous I hope; take me if it
is."
	"I'm going to New Orleans to visit Veronica. It's only an overnight
trip, but I'm sure she'd love it if you came."
	"Let me guess, Veronica's husband has been out of town for days and
she's feeling lonely and this is one of your slumber party trips," Liz
stated hitting the nail right on the head.  "You know Kemper, Veronica
lives in Louisiana, not down the road. You two can't have a get together
every other day," Liz commented, managing to sound loving and joking at the
same time.
	"It's not every other day, it's been over six weeks since I've been
to see her," he protested.
	"All I'm saying is that it's inconvenient to whisk off to New
Orleans at the drop of a hat all the time. At least it's inconvenient for
me. I wanted to come over and talk you into drinking daiquiris on the beach
all day."
	"Oh yes, that sounds important. Let me just call Veronica and
cancel my plans," Kemper joked. Then added, "If I weren't going, you
wouldn't have had to twist my arm. I started off this day lazily, I might
as well end that way."
	"Well, it sounded fun to me and definitely better than hanging
around the house with Mama. She's driving me mad! Too bad you're leaving,"
Liz slightly whined. "When she's got a migraine, nobody's safe."
	"Come with me to New Orleans then, we'll be back tomorrow by noon,"
he tried to entice her to come along.
	"Better not, I have to work tomorrow morning, but thanks for
inviting me anyway. I better let you go so that you can pack."
	"Hey, why don't you get Jeffery to take you out tonight? The Scrape
Pack are playing at the club, you could go see them." He was feeling bad at
leaving her in such a down mood.
	"Yeah, maybe. Frankly, I'm a little bored with Jeffery," Liz said
loftily. "Oh well, one more night with him won't kill me and it'll get me
out of the house. Or maybe I'll find me a handsome tourist. Listen, you
have a good trip and be careful."
	"See you Friday! And you be careful, too."
	He hung up the phone and went to his bedroom to pack. Within twenty
minutes he was sitting in the back of a car and on his way.

* * *
      Sipping a mimosa, Kemper flipped through the latest edition of Vanity
Fair for a large amount of the flight. But the closer he got to his friend,
the more he began thinking of what a laudable and exceptionally talented
person his best friend was, and what a shame it was that her husband didn't
appreciate her for it. Todd walked all over Veronica because he felt
allowing her to stay home and "play" with her paintings gave him the right
to do so. Veronica's talent was something that Todd just didn't recognize,
which made Kemper think he's blind or stupid...probably both.
      Not to mention, how belittling he was. The effects of the constant
castigations that Todd bombarded Veronica with when he was at home began
appearing not long after they were married. Veronica didn't see them as
criticisms at all, though. Yes, Veronica was always telling Kemper how Todd
"advised" her how to slim down her hips, cook dinner, load the dishwasher,
fold the laundry, and just about everything else. As well as his constant
references to Veronica's painting as, "doing nothing".
      Kemper felt responsible for Veronica after years of building each
other up with encouragement, love, and acceptance. And for Todd to rip down
the confidence that Kemper had assisted so diligently in building over the
years caused him at times to sit on his hands to keep from smacking Todd
one-or two.
      But thankfully Kemper was still able to spend time with Veronica
without interference from Todd quite often, so he was able to play defense
to Todd's "advisements."
      Veronica was standing at the gate with a huge grin on her face like
it had been years since they had seen each other instead of only
weeks. "Hey! How was your flight?"  Veronica hugged him tight. "Fine I'm
sure since you're here in one piece. Straight to Canal Street okay with
you?"  Veronica was too excited to have Kemper there to pause for one
second.
      "Whatever you want darling, it's your day."
      "You're too sweet and too good to me you know that?"  Veronica was
absolutely bubbling.
      "Well, enough of that, let's get out of here. I'm dying for a cig."
      He only had a carry on, so they headed straight for Veronica's
Cherokee. After they finally made it out of the airport traffic, they
trekked a direct beeline to Sacs Fifth Avenue.  There they each bought a
new outfit to wear to dinner. Veronica found a red back-less number that
was low cut in the front. The dress seemed to enhance her champagne-colored
hair and pale blue eyes. Veronica could make a garbage sack look good,
though. Her features were of those that no matter what expression she wore,
she couldn't help but look stunningly beautiful.  Plus, she had a great
body, with breasts that most women would have killed for.
      He found himself a three-piece navy suit with emerald accents that
fit like a tailored glove and made his eyes pop to a shimmering teal and
his hair a glossy black. Next, it was downstairs for shoes. After that, the
only thing that was left was jewelry and undergarments, which they found a
little further down Canal Street at Macy's.
      After refueling at Café Du Monde with coffee and a shared plate of
powdered sugar dusted beignets-trying on jewelry can be more tiring than
one would expect-the friends strolled around the French Quarter as the sun
star set, clapping with the street performers' music and scanning the
colorfully vivid local art in Jackson Square. Pictures of dawn lit bayous,
young Creole girls in milky white dresses, and jazz figures in silhouette
trailed the wrought iron fences. The weather was warm and humid. The scents
that clung to the humidity were intoxicating, giving people the renewed
vigor to take the next step, driving the thriving force that birthed the
French Quarter.
      Along one side of the square there were various tables set up with
some interesting characters giving palm, tarot, and rune readings. "Let's
get a reading done."  Veronica turned to him, pleading with her baby blues
and tugging on his arm.
      "Are you sure?  Most of these fortune-tellers are just out for your
money."
      "You're the one who always says money is for spending. Besides, it
might be fun to hear what they have to say. And if I get one, you're
getting one too. Come on!" Veronica demanded, dragging him along by the
hand. Kemper didn't know what could be so fun about it.
      Veronica stopped at an older, heavyset woman's table who could only
be described as a gypsy.  Flowing skirt and scarves, with countless rings
and bracelets, the woman had an ethereal beauty about her. All the woman's
features were strong and pronounced; her eyes, nose, lips, and even her
forehead was assertive, but not in an abrasive way. The cardboard sign on
her velvet draped card-table read, "Clairvoyant".
      "Hi, I'm Ronnie and this is my friend Kemper. May we sit at your
table?"
      "But of course. I am Madame Charity. Who is going first and is there
anything in particular you would like to know?" The lady got right down to
business.
      "I will," Veronica half way raised her hand, "and I would just like
to know basic life stuff I suppose." She sat down.
      "Please, hold my hands." Madame Charity took Veronica's hands in
hers. The gypsy concentrated with her eyes closed for a minute. Madame
Charity turned her head slightly to the side and nodded her head a few
times. Kemper watched her suspiciously as if he expected for Madame Charity
to rob Veronica right there in public.
      "Ah, I see. Your creativity runs through you fiercely. It courses
through your every vein until almost, it is not part of you, but more, you
are part of it. Your artistry will make you extremely successful one day,
maybe even beyond your wildest dreams. But not until you conquer your
sorrowful heart." She paused a moment keeping her eyes shut.
      Kemper's forehead furrowed with curiosity, astounded by the words she
was speaking.
      "And it is not sorrow that you will acknowledge," Madame Charity
continued. "You convince yourself that you need it. You convince yourself
that it's not sadness, but life. It's not life, love. It is unnecessary
pain, and you must get rid of it or you will never complete the path that
is intended for you."
      Veronica just sat there blinking at her, not knowing what to
say. Kemper mirrored his friend.
      "That is all I have for you, love. Or, more so, I think you've heard
enough for now. Go in love and light," said Madame Charity. Then she turned
to Kemper. "Are you next?"
      Veronica finally woke up. "Yes, he's next. Aren't you Kemp?"
      "Sure, why not?" He shrugged his shoulders, now clueless as to what
to anticipate from this so-called clairvoyant. Sitting down and listening
for amusement was easier when he had expected a load of bullshit, but she
had been right about Veronica. Everything she had said to Veronica had
merit, and there was no way Madame Charity could have known anything about
them.
 	"A life reading for you as well?"
      "Sure," Kemper said long and drawn out as he sat reluctantly, then
added, "and maybe some info on my love life would be nice."
      His pulse began to pick up. Why was he anxious? There was nothing
that this woman could tell him about himself that he didn't already know.
      "Please, take my hands," her rich, throaty voice requested
imperiously. He placed his hands in Madame Charity's.
      Snap! There was a spark that made Kemper jolt. Madame Charity hung on
though and turned her head to the side with a look of bemusement on her
face.
      Stunned at the invisible pitch of energy, he sat slack-jawed at the
interesting humming sensations in different parts of his body reminiscent
of the shock. The buzzing was particularly strong in his forehead, hands,
and belly and even a little bit in his feet. Dizziness caused him to bobble
in his seat a little. 'It must be the humidity,' he thought.
      "You have a lot of power. But you do not use it. I do not think you
realize you possess it.  Do you know things before they happen?" the gypsy
woman asked him.
      "Well, I wouldn't say that," Kemper answered shakily, "but I would
say my instincts are pretty good."
      "You can call it instincts, I call it intuition. As I said, your
power is very great within you, but lying dormant. Your current
accomplishments in this life are proof of your magic. You will set a goal
and sow the seeds to make it happen, and it happens. Up until now you
thought it was luck, but it is you. Did you have any idea that you were a
witch?"
      "A what? A witch? Um, no, I don't think so. You've got the wrong
person. I'm just an average person. I have a bath and body company and do
every day, *normal* stuff. No, I definitely think you have the wrong
person!" He couldn't hide the incredulous expression on his face.
      "Yes, I see your business. You use all pure, natural ingredients,
correct?" she asked knowingly.
      "Yes, that's right," he admitted taken aback again.
      "You being a witch is what has helped you with that. Knowing the
right amount and combinations of ingredients; they're like potions. You may
consider studying the occult to harness your magic to your will." Madame
Charity looked into Kemper's eyes and could see that he was still
unconvinced. "Just think about it, love. You have great potential if you
want to use it. You cannot hide from your destiny, but how hard the path
is, depends on you.
      "And as far as your love life, it's coming. Hope you like blue eyes."
Then she let go of Kemper's hands. At the release of their clasp, the
fizzling inside him ceased and the air around them seem to still for a
moment or two before the humidity closed around him once more.
      "How much?" Kemper didn't know what else to say because he was unsure
of how he was feeling at the moment.
      "Donation, love. Whatever you think."
      He put four one-hundred dollar bills on the table and he and Veronica
left.