Chaos in the Coven: Witches of Raven's Landing, #3

By Saskia Walker

Enter a world of magic, desire, and danger.  Introducing Raven's Landing, a sleepy Cornish harbour town, a sanctuary where witches have lived in harmony for centuries—until now.

 

The paranormal heritage of Raven's Landing is about to be torn apart for the sake of a documentary, throwing the coven into chaos.

 

Aveline and Eben are devoted friends, but Eben wants more—and deep down, so does Aveline. Something in the past is holding them apart. Eben Ayotunde is a stoic, gifted male witch, one who learned of his magic in a baptism of fire in his homeland. He is humble and hardworking, but when provoked strikes like lightning, with fire and brimstone as his tools. Eben came to Raven's Landing to be at one with people of his kind, but his attraction to Aveline allows him no peace. When she is threatened, there's no other choice for Eben but to protect her—even if it risks the disapproval of The Witches' Council, and the wrath of the Lord of the Underworld.

 

Aveline Pascoe, the respected local librarian, mourns the loss of the academic life she had before she learned she was magical, and that's what's holding her back from loving Eben. When Aveline's ex arrives—a professor who scorns the supernatural—to take apart the mythology and folklore of Raven's Landing, Aveline is forced to face her past, and defend what she has become. In doing so, she learns what is worth defending, and who is destined to be her true hero.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Saskia Walker
• Release date: Mar 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393782049

Saskia Walker

Award-winning British author Saskia Walker first dreamed of writing her own stories when she discovered a handful of romance novels stashed away in her school library. An avid reader, she lapped up the adventures and the life-affirming emotion she found there. As well as fantasy and romance, Saskia writes paranormal, historical and contemporary fiction, with a special interest in witchcraft. Saskia's short stories have now been published in over one hundred international anthologies and magazines. Her novels have been published by two New York publishing houses as well as several smaller publishing houses. To her absolute delight two of her novels won Passionate Plume awards, and her work has twice been nominated for a Romantic Times Magazine Reviewers' Choice Award. Her Witches of Scotland series was widely translated and became a Scandinavian bestseller. In 2015 she became a USA TODAY bestselling author. It's been an amazing journey. Saskia is now a full time author and she has many more stories to tell. Saskia is happily settled in Yorkshire in the north of England, with her real-life hero, Mark, and a houseful of felines. 

Book preview

CHAOS IN THE COVEN

Witches of Raven’s Landing

Book 3

© SASKIA WALKER

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is for sale to adults only. It contains explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers.

Cover by: Emily’s World of Design

Cover copy: The paranormal heritage of Raven’s Landing is about to be torn apart for the sake of a documentary, throwing the local coven into chaos...

Aveline and Eben are devoted friends, but Eben wants more—and deep down, so does Aveline. Something in the past is holding them apart. Eben Ayotunde is a stoic, gifted male witch, one who learned of his magic in a baptism of fire in his homeland. He is humble and hardworking, but when provoked strikes like lightning, with fire and brimstone as his tools. Eben came to Raven’s Landing to be at one with people of his kind, but his attraction to Aveline allows him no peace. When she is threatened, there’s no other choice for Eben but to protect her—even if it risks the disapproval of The Witches’ Council, and the wrath of the Lord of the Underworld.

Aveline Pascoe, the respected local librarian, mourns the loss of the academic life she had before she learned she was magical, and that’s what’s holding her back from loving Eben. When Aveline’s ex arrives—a professor who scorns the supernatural—to take apart the mythology and folklore of Raven’s Landing, Aveline is forced to face her past, and defend what she has become. In doing so, she learns what is worth defending, and who is destined to be her true hero.

DEDICATION

Storm Constantine

12th October 1956 – 14th January 2021

This series is dedicated to the memory of Storm, who we lost too soon.

Dreamer of the most fantastic dreams, writer of fantastical worlds.

My mentor, first publisher, and guiding light.

Fondly remembered.

CHAPTER ONE

W itches and ghosts ? Does anyone actually believe such ridiculous crap?

The Raven’s Landing’s Head Librarian, Aveline Pascoe, rose from her seat behind the library countertop, where she’d been sorting recently-returned books.

What ‘crap’ might that be? She tried to sound breezy. It wasn’t easy. Even if she hadn’t been part of the local witch community, she’d have found the woman’s comment rude.

The woman on the other side of the old oak counter had a clipboard clutched to her chest. She wore designer fitness gear and a sneer. Aveline wondered if the sneer was permanent or specifically directed at the Raven’s Landing community.

"That crap. The woman nodded at the Cornish Tourist Board poster pinned to the oak door behind Aveline. Witches and demons and things that go bump in the night."

Her sarcastic comments and scornful attitude made Aveline’s hackles rise. However, her role as Head Librarian meant she had to remain professional. Outreach to members of the public came naturally. She’d handled many a difficult situation in her time, and was able to rise above it. She offered the stranger a bright smile. That’s for you to decide.

"Hmm, yeah well, it’s what I’m here to do. Decide." The woman pulled out an ID card on a lanyard, thrusting it at Aveline.

The card stated the cardholder represented Delve Deep Productions, a documentary unit. Her name was India Smyth and she was head of the team. It listed credentials in small print. Aveline inclined her head. TV research. That must be exciting.

Absolutely. Ms Smyth tucked the card away in a pocket, then glanced around with a disparaging expression. I’m not sure about this job though, investigating the paranormal heritage in a backwater place like Raven’s Landing could be rather dull.

Don’t bet on it, Aveline thought, but kept it to herself. Instead, she clicked into role. We have several printed guides describing the local myths and legends, primarily aimed at tourists. You’ll find them in the leaflet stand to your left, on the second row down.

India didn’t move. We’re way beyond that point, babe. She dumped her clipboard on the countertop. My assistant was down here over the summer vacation, picked up the leaflets then. It was her pitch, and because she’s a niece of the director she gets what she wants. She rolled her eyes. Nepotism. You know what it’s like.

Aveline didn’t know what it was like, not in the way she meant. Her coven looked after each other as a community. Whatever had spurred the idea of doing research here, she wished the director’s niece hadn’t pitched it. The last thing they needed was a documentary team nosing around Raven’s Landing, poking holes in what they considered their precious heritage. What’s your angle going to be?

India Smyth shrugged dismissively. Not sure yet. She studied Aveline with a sly glance. I thought you might be able to throw out some ideas.

Aveline arched her eyebrows. The woman wanted her to do the work for her. What a joke. Some people would be delighted to be involved, to get the camera lens on them and be part of such an unusual and exciting event. For a small market town like Raven’s Landing it could bring a big commercial boost. But Aveline had a bad feeling about it.

She stepped out from behind her counter. Grabbing a leaflet from the display, she offered it. You’ll find more material here, in Mondleford. It’s about ten miles along the coast. Plenty of folklore to ‘delve deep’ into.

India followed, but didn’t accept the leaflet. No. It has to be Raven’s Landing.

Warning bells tolling through Aveline’s mind. This could be bad news for the coven, really bad news. Her heart sank. The woman was determined. What could she do? Tension built in her spine, a cold hand on her shoulder a warning that wouldn’t be shrugged off.

She became aware of one of the other members of her coven, Sunny Chambers, closing on the desk. Sunny had a concerned look in her eyes.

Aveline gave her a slight nod, then turned back to Ms Smyth. In that case, there’s someone you should meet, Celeste Penrose. Nobody in the area knows more then Celeste, she’s lived here all her life.

Aveline waved Sunny over. Sunny, this is India Smyth, she’s from a TV company. They’re thinking of filming here, delving into our local paranormal heritage.

Sunny’s eyes rounded.

Aveline nodded at her meaningfully.

Witches and demons, vamps and ghosts, that kinda shit, India Smyth added, for Sunny’s benefit.

Sunny looked astonished. Ah, I see. I take it you’re a disbeliever?

Ms Smyth shot Sunny a withering glance. 

Aveline had to bite her tongue. Perhaps you could direct Ms Smyth to The Cauldron, to meet Celeste. I figured she’d know how to guide her.

The Cauldron? India snorted. Seriously? Give me a break.

I believe it’s a play on the old cliché about witches, Aveline commented, eager to throw her off the scent. Celeste was good at that, having been around for many more decades than the rest of them.

Yes, Sunny replied, cautiously. You really need to meet Celeste, she’ll sort you out. Sunny looked back at Aveline and laughed.

A moment later Sunny led the newcomer out of the library.

Aveline watched. She should’ve been amused too, but that cold hand remained on her shoulder. Modern day witch hunters came in many forms, but at the heart of it many of them might as well have flaming torches and sharpened stakes in their hands, ready to root out anything they found strange or unusual. It was too close to the bone, and for Aveline it stirred memories of a time when she’d inadvertently walked too close to danger—a time she’d tried to bury. The memory made her shudder.

She’d been in a position of danger when she’d learned about her own witchcraft, and she’d had to run away—or face an interrogation she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. She’d been the one doing the research, ready to expose people’s beliefs in the paranormal as a sham, but what she’d found was the truth about herself. The ghosts of her past cast long shadows, and they edged into her consciousness like a sixth sense, warning her to take care.

She tried to reassure herself it was just a coincidence, told herself her past incarnation wouldn’t come back to haunt her. She had other things to think about. The nineteen-forties weekend events kicked off the following day, and there was still heaps to do. But the ice cold hand on her shoulder was still there, and she simply couldn’t shrug it off.

CHAPTER TWO

Eben Ayotunde walked in the forest at the southern tip of Raven’s Landing every morning, before he opened up his blacksmith workshop. It gave him peace, being at one with nature, and without fail it opened his eyes anew each and every day.

The atmosphere was heavy with the scent of the forest as it shed its leafy cloak. In the winter and spring he jogged. In the summer he walked, and in the autumn his paces grew even slower as he absorbed every detail of the season—the myriad of colors in the falling leaves, the rhythmic sound of them crunching underfoot, and the look of the trees as their outlines grew stark against the autumn sky. The earthy scent of decaying summer greenery had its own lingering appeal. It was his favorite place to be in Raven’s Landing. At least, it was his favorite place to be that wasn’t by a certain someone’s side.

It was a chill, misty morning. He zipped up the collar on his quilted hiking jacket and congratulated himself on remembering to wear his thermal socks. Sunlight peeked through the space between the branches, revealing a new path hitherto undiscovered. Eben followed the path suggested and as the sunlight moved through the trees so did he.

It was so different to the landscape where he’d been born, in the flat floodplain of Gambia. He hadn’t stayed long after he discovered his magic. The people he’d grown up with feared he was a danger to them, even though he’d saved many of the village during an attack in which he lost his own family. So at the age of fifteen he’d become a nomad, first traveling north through Senegal then across the Mediterranean to the European mainland. He’d stopped a while in many places, until he’d been drawn here to Raven’s Landing, where he was at one with a different kind of family: a coven.

His lifespan had lengthened. Eben was no longer sure how old he was, but he could remember people talking about a queen called Victoria who held sway over large parts of the world. At first he didn’t know why he didn’t age like others did, but guessed it was something to do with the inexplicable abilities he owned. Now he lived amongst others of his kind, he understood his good deeds had earned him longevity, and he’d inherited his gift from grandparents he never knew. Perhaps they hid it, afraid of being called out. Many did. Even though the Raven’s Landing coven lived contentedly and without trouble from the locals, they didn’t broadcast their special circumstances. They had enough trouble dealing with enemies amongst other covens—and one particularly powerful turncoat from their own coven—to invite the potentially negative attention of everyday folk.

The rugged, varied northern coastline of Cornwall had become his stomping ground, the place where he finally allowed his soul to grow and take root in the landscape. He’d spent many years trekking across Europe in search of such a home. He particularly liked Italy and spent two decades there. He’d worked at night, clearing glasses in a bar. In the afternoons he laid out on the beach, basking in the sun. He remembered it fondly.

One time a local girl had ogled him for several days and eventually got up the courage to ask why he was sunbathing when his skin was so black? Eben had grinned and explained it was because the sun felt so good on his skin, and it reminded him he was part of the natural world. Does the sun feel good on your skin? he’d asked. She’d agreed, and went away satisfied with his answer. He’d even found Italians who had the gift, as he’d done in other places. But it wasn’t until he found his way to Cornwall and the people of Raven’s Landing he was able to settle.

The landscape had a lot to do with it. He was never far from nature, and he was rooted in it. Here in Cornwall, where it was molded by the elements, the land had many different faces. You could choose which one to see—the forest, the dark cliff, the bay or the meadows—and still be surprised.

This October had brought crisp, misty mornings early on in the month. Birds could be seen flitting in search of remaining berries, and people hurried to put out balls of tempting fat and seeds to keep their feathered visitors fed. Frost dusted the colder mornings in magic. There were gifts and treasures to be found everywhere, the retreating undergrowth revealing a variety of mosses, while pine cones could be found amongst the curling leaves in their multitude of colors.

Eben collected the cones in his backpack, along with unusual rocks and fallen twigs and branches. He made a display with them in the window of his workshop, and often tourists would stop and look at them then grow curious when they saw the flames of the forge inside the workshop.

As he strolled through the leaves, he caught sight of a fox scurrying away in the undergrowth. He paused and looked around. The fox had sensed an intruder, and so did he. Sometimes, but not frequently, he came across hikers and ramblers. He listened carefully and scoured the distant trees.

The forest shivered as one, the bare trees groaning in the wind, creatures scurrying away for cover. Eben felt the disturbance in his bones.

Rooks took to the sky, squawking in distress.

People were about—people who had little respect for the place. Their laughter echoed through the bare branches. Eben followed the direction of the sound.

Pausing between a cluster of slender silver birches when he spotted the visitors, he studied them. They weren’t locals. They wore matching navy hoodies. Not unusual in itself, but they were embroidered with the name of a company, and they had lanyards around their necks bearing photo ID. One of them, a tall lean man, was filming the forest with a small handheld camera. The other had a large instamatic camera and was taking shots, before discussing them with his buddy.

Eben cocked his head and listened.

It’ll be a great location, particularly early in the day like this, when there’s mist, or at night, with our heat-seeking equipment. Spooky.

"Yeah, even Madam will have to find a way to get closer to nature while we’re here." They chortled with laughter.

Eben wondered who Madam was and what they were up to.

As he observed, a familiar sensory echo resonated through him. It happened whenever Aveline felt concern. His affection for his dear friend meant he sensed her emotions rise and fall, and he knew when she needed help, or when she needed to be left alone. As soon as he felt her mood dip, he turned away from the visitors, heading back to town.

When his phone vibrated in his pocket he retrieved it, glancing at the text message as he walked. It was a group message from their coven mistress, Celeste. It requested coven members call by her place for a quick meet. It didn’t say why, but Celeste didn’t send out messages unless there was a good reason. Eben glanced at the time. He didn’t open his workshop until after ten. It was nearing nine thirty, and he broke into a jog.

As he approached The Cauldron, Celeste’s workplace and home, he saw Aveline headed toward him from the opposite direction. Beyond her, other members of the coven followed.

Any idea what this is about? he asked as they converged on the entrance to The Cauldron.

Unfortunately, I do. Aveline looked concerned. Normally calm and level-headed it was unusual to see her rattled. A woman came into the library first thing, nosing around for a television production company. Let’s get inside and see what Celeste has to say.

They crowded into the communal area at the back of the gift shop, and were greeted with the enticing aroma of freshly baked muffins and pastries. The sound of the kettle boiling preceded their footsteps, as it always did. This was the heart of the coven. Here they found a welcome, solace, or advice—no matter what hour of the day or night. Celeste, their coven mistress, was their rock. Eben often thought of her as the flame in their forge, that which shaped the metal of their souls.

They took their places. A couple of the women were chattering, but mostly they looked a bit sleepy and reached for caffeinated drinks. Eben grabbed a double chocolate chip muffin, still warm from the oven, and a mug of coffee, then took his place. The muffins were always good, as was everything baked by Rowena Meldrum. 

Celeste’s black cat, Wellington, observed proceedings from a shelf near the hearth. Celeste rose to her feet once they were all settled. Thank you for coming, I won’t keep you long.

Caleb Meriwether grinned. Take your time. It’s nice to get a break from the building site. He wore a faded rock band T-shirt and ripped jeans, and had plaster dust in his hair. It was an unusual look for Caleb, who usually wore a suit, but he was currently overseeing the renovation of the old farmhouse he’d purchased.

Eben smiled across the table at him. It was good to see Caleb at ease amongst them. Caleb was the newest member of their coven, and he took his seat beside the woman he loved, Rowena Meldrum. While Rowena baked delicious pastries for the cafe next door, Caleb ran his business interests long distance while supervising the renovation of their future home.

We can always find things for you to do, Caleb, if you want to skive off, Willow commented, sarcastically.

Caleb shook his head and Rowena nestled up against him proudly.

Celeste began in earnest. Okay, briefly, there’s a TV crew in town. The head of production called at the library and Aveline and sent her over to me. She’s not long gone.

That might explain the people I saw in the forest, Eben commented. They were filming the location and taking instant photos. Had some sort of company logo on their gear.

Sunny groaned. I’ve got such a bad feeling about this.

That wasn’t good. Sunny was known for her premonitions and predictive dreams, and when she spoke, everybody listened.

Me too. Aveline looked around the gathered assembly. This woman who’s prowling around, India Smyth, was rather offhand, but it seems they’re set on filming a paranormal special in our town.

Witch hunters? Adam Ward asked, his eyebrows lifting

As good as, Willow commented. The modern day equivalent, at any rate. Imagine if they caught something of us on film, the entire media would descend on Raven’s Landing. She shuddered in distaste.

We’ll have to be on guard, Celeste said. They might not bother us. I’ve spoken with Ms Smyth myself, and...well, she’s not showing...shall we say, very much tenacious intellectual enquiry.

Aveline broke into a smile. You have such a diplomatic way of putting things, Celeste.

That’s why she’s our coven mistress, Willow said proudly, fluttering her