The Witch of Indigo Bayou: The Lost Witch Series, #1

The Witch of Indigo Bayou

By Leona Bushman

Leona Bushman

The Witch of Indigo Bayou

Copyright 2019 Leona Bushman

The Lost Witch Series book 1

This is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, places and incidents are used fictionally, or are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblances to real places or people are purely coincidental or fictionalized.

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Acknowledgments

Thank you to Ishabelle Torry who has helped me through a lot of things. To my friend, Anne-Mhairi, who has made my life better in ways she doesn’t know. The mother is named in her honor.

To Randy, who helped me find my voice again.

To my muse. May I find you again.

Prologue

Kingdom of Alba Early 4th Century

The men rode in with their spears and swords, demanding food and bringing a new religion. They came in blood and fire and force.

The Pictish witches saw the writing on the wall as it magically infused itself on the caves. At the same time, the seers foretold a wash of their way of life, again showing violence and death to those powerful in the ancient ways of magic, so they began saving it on stones, hidden meanings, in stories, in their families. But as time passed, they knew it would not be enough.

Three great families were chosen as the vessels and keepers of the magic. Families already powerful and plentiful to ensure the magic and olde ways would not be forgotten.

One family chosen to hold all the powers in one, dormant unless needed, joined their ranks. The magic sleeping within their ancestors unless the powers called out.

The one family remained secret from all but the three, and the one who performed the magic spell to ensure the continuation of the Earth. They were to call on the ancestors of the one family if their lines became in peril or their magic waned from disuse. History handed down from one generation to the next.

They kept up their way of life, of the blessings of olde magic. The animal callers, the fire and air callers, the earth and water, and those who possessed all. As time passed, fewer believed. More turned to the new religion as the men came. Violence abounded. New missionaries came. Some retained their knowledge and tried to keep the olde ways alive, even outside the three families, for they did not want to lose their heritage. Some wanted their own protections, not just from the men invading, but from the families chosen.

But, as all of history knows, these stories become legends, myths, and so people forgot their true calling, the meaning of the symbols lost in time. The magic, dormant except in a few gifted who kept the magic alive, who knew the truth behind the stories and legends, waned and wasted.

Until the era of peril, when all balance was lost.

Until then, it lay hidden in time and blood.

Chapter One

Melissa McNealy hummed as she worked the garden of her old home. Near the Dismal Swamp State Park, very few humans ever bothered her. She grew her own food, raised her own cattle, and worshipped her own way. She’d originally came to South Mills as a tourist, intent on being a tourist, kayaking down the canal.

She’d fallen in love with the swamp, the bayou feeling of the place. She’d worked hard to find a patch of land close to the State Park, big enough to be self-sustaining and keep others out. She still had to go in to work occasionally, so she worked at the State Park as a guide seasonally to keep enough money to augment her savings and capitol from selling all her possessions except her jeep.

She would venture to say she knew more about the park than anyone in the US could claim, possibly the world. Some of that knowledge had been books. Old ledgers, stories, archeologist articles, and even exploration. But she’d learned something about herself out there in the midst of the mud and trees. She could not hide from herself or her calling.

She was a witch.

Not just Wiccan, but a bona fide, magical witch.

For years, she’d ran and hid from it, the family legacy, refusing it within herself, but too many of the animals had spoken to her. The magic in her would not be denied.

First, there’d been an alligator. You do not want to go that way. The bear family is grumpy. Hates all humans.

She’d whipped her head around, searching to see who’d said that. Her friends stood a ways off, still on the boardwalk. She’d stepped down carefully on rocky ground to take pictures of the birds in the area. She’d stared back to where the bird had been, but it had flown off. Out of the corner of her eye, she sensed movement. And the alligator swayed as it walked. She slowly stood up, intending to head back to the boardwalk, but then it spoke to her.

You understood me.

She blinked. Its words had a flattened tone, the double o sound almost Bostonian in the way it came out. Ye-yes, she said, still peering around nervously, as if expecting someone to jump out and prove this a prank.

I feel the magic in you. It called to me. I have been trying to find you for hours. I am Gilanthra, Queen of the Northern Alligators.

I’m Melissa. A stockbroker.

Gilanthra tilted her head. No. You are a witch. Or you would not understand me.

I assure you, I am no such thing. I deal with numbers. She’d been telling herself that in relief ever since her nineteenth birthday had passed and she’d managed to avoid the magical influx.

Not sure how she could tell, but Gilanthra smiled at her. I see. You’ve been denying your power all your life.

The truth of that statement hit home for her, but she ignored it same as she had her magic all these years. I have been learning how to take care of myself and my sisters, she said stubbornly.

Gilanthra laughed. Sistersss. Of course. When you are ready to admit who you are, come back to me, Melissa. Then we will talk. Gilanthra sauntered off back into the rich foliage until she’d disappeared into the dense swampy area.

Melissa! her friend and coworker Rachel called. Did you get your pictures?

Melissa facepalmed her forehead. She’d had an alligator there, staring at her and talking to her, and she’d not taken a picture. Yes, she said, but I missed a good one of an alligator.

Well, come on! The guys are talking about kayaking, but I want to hike.

I’ll hike with you, she murmured. Kayaking no longer sounded like a good idea. What if the alligator tried to talk to her then?

Great! Rachel grabbed her hand and pulled her along. The group talked until they’d broken up into two, one set heading back to the visitor center and to get their kayaking gear, the other to the trailheads.

The trail had been a great place to take pictures. The trees and water and lush plants, the abundance of animals. She’d just started to relax again when she heard a couple of squirrels arguing.

No, Nancy. I collected those nuts. They are mine. The squeaky voice held lower undertone with a chirp in it.

Melissa turned in time to see a squirrel put hands on hips. The red fur and black bushy tail had Melissa raising her camera and taking a few quick shots. Together, they made quite the pair. Then the other squirrel’s mouth opened, and she said, Fred! We both collected those nuts. Now, you’re the one who put these babies in me. You can go get us more food! I’m craving something special. Now hurry along. They will be here in a few days, and we must be ready.

Fred’s cream-colored fur had bits of tan and dark brown fur through it, but it was the whitest squirrel she’d ever seen. Then she shook her head and started walking away. Now she knew she was imagining things. Fred and Nancy? Really? Shaking her head, she turned away. But then the voice she’d ascribed to Nancy said, Hey, wait. Human with the funny fur.

Melissa stared back in shock. Me? Then she checked to see where Rachel had gone, but the bubbly blonde had moved far up the path to the next trailhead.

You can understand. Good. Tell Fred that a pregnant squirrel should never be trifled with.

Um, I think, well, I’ve never been pregnant, but Fred, my friends have, and um, I would not make them mad if I could help it.

Fred frowned at her and then sighed dramatically. True. And she is carrying our babies. His whiskers moved as he talked, and she couldn’t stop staring.

What? he demanded. Do I have something in my whiskers again? Don’t tell me that I have sap in them again. Nancy, why didn’t you tell me?

You’re fine, Fred. I think... I think the girl is in shock. Yes, that’s the look.

I...I. I must be dreaming. That’s it. I’m still back at the rental house, asleep, and this will all be a dream, she said to herself.

Oh, my word. You don’t even know your own heritage. That is the saddest thing I have ever heard.

Fred tsked. Didn’t your mother tell you?

Somehow, having squirrels feeling sorry for her made the whole surreal experience seem more real. Tell me, what?

You possess animal magic, of course. You can talk to all animals, if you put your mind to it. My grandmother knew one once. I met her. They used to be more common. There are tales—

And there you go on again, Nancy. The poor tyke looks as if she might fall down. Maybe you need to sit on that rock, he suggested. You want me to go get the other human?

Before she really thought about it, she nodded and made her way to the rock to sit. The squirrel scampered off to Rachel, and she watched its antics in amusement. She’d not known of her magic, wasn’t supposed to know until it revealed itself at nineteen...which she tried to avoid. Apparently, she hadn’t skipped it as she’d thought. Her mother had tried to warn her that her magic would reveal itself eventually whether she willed it to happen or not.

Fred first chirped and chatted at Rachel who obviously didn’t understand him. He wrapped himself around her legs, and Rachel let out a startled laugh loud enough for Melissa to catch it. Then Fred started back toward Nancy and Melissa. When Rachel didn’t follow, he again went in front of her and started chattering. After four attempts at that, Rachel turned back and came over to Melissa.

Fred sat next to her, grooming Nancy, picking bits of