The Barbed Witch

By S.A. Koss

The Barbed Witch is an urban fantasy novel chronicling the life of Seppy Drake, who has the misfortune of being an orphaned, angst ridden, untrained, powerful witch. Seppy’s mother, Fiona, has secretly been suppressing Seppy’s power. When Fiona unexpectedly dies, Seppy’s powers are unleashed to horrifying consequences for herself and those around her. Witches who perform selfish or hurtful acts are magically punished with Barbs impaling into their skin. The local Circle of witches harshly deal with untrained witches who can’t control their power, for it is believed that each Barb takes away a little of a witch’s soul. Seppy soon spirals out of control. As the Circle closes in on Seppy, another Barb covered witch arrives in the city. Seppy finally thinks she has found another soul that can understand what she is going through. Or has she?

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.A. Koss
• Release date: Mar 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005993832

Book preview

PART ONE - CHAPTER 1

Oh Brianna! I was so sorry to hear about your Mom and Dad. It was just terrible. Terrible, exclaimed the woman who walked in our home heels clicking on our wood floors.

Thanks, ah, Brianna Drake’s, eyes widened with mental block, …Diane, yes Diane as if affirming the woman’s name was indeed Diane.

Good recovery, chuckled my brother, Brady, who took a seat next to me on the stairs. He had also been watching Brianna’s gaffe. She actually was doing well playing hostess for our parent’s funeral at the ripe old age of twenty two.

I stared bullets at Diane. She makes me sick. All these smiles for people who don’t really give a crap what happens to us. They just want to make themselves feel better by having pity on the little orphans. They are all so ‘I’m so sorry’, blah, blah, blah, I said shaking my head and using my hand as a puppet.

September, you are so negative. They’re just trying to help, said Brady’s twin, Erin, the self -righteous peace maker. It was difficult to get mad at Erin as she so annoyingly practiced what she preached.

Screw them. They can all blow their help out their ass, I went out the front door letting the screen door slam shut to add the appropriate level of emphasis to my words. I didn’t care who heard or saw my drama. Maybe they would all leave if they knew I saw right through them. I was never the diplomat in the family. That was the job my eldest sister, Brianna. Everyone expected me to be the brooding, angry child of the family and I certainly was not going to disappoint anyone today.

Some younger children of the family are coddled by their siblings. But, oh no, not my siblings. They were always letting me know I wasn’t the baby anymore; that position was usurped by my little sister, Hannah. Growing up with two older sisters, one older brother and one younger sister did not make for a happy me. Whoever wrote the Brady bunch must have been dropping some happy acid. The writers certainly hadn’t met the Drake Clan.

I was the next smallest on the totem pole, smaller pea in the pod, the least heard, the one who must follow, not lead. I say bullshit. I can take any one of them out in a fight and I have. Except Brady, maybe. I am sure I will take him someday too.

I took out a cigarette; doing my best to do a 60’s movie slut light up which should have been beyond my capability at fifteen. I pulled it off just the same. I had a lot of practice. I shook back my long, black hair tilting my head back. I raised the cigarette to my lips holding just the end of it in my mouth letting it tilt slightly down. I dug the lighter out of the front pocket of my black Hot Topic pants with tie downs that the old coots Brianna called guests probably thought were suspenders. The thought brought a smile to my lips making me almost drop the cigarette. Maybe I should give them a little more drama and explain to the old farts the tie downs weren’t suspenders. I raised the lighter up to the cigarette and let it rip a flame. I got it first try. Practice makes perfect.

I heard the door bang and glanced back as Brady joined me on the front porch. He stood close, but not too close. Brady knows not to crowd me when I am in a mood. Which is always.

You want one? I asked as I settled on the top stair of the porch leaning against the brick column. We lived in a 1940’s craftsman. Or at least we did as of today. Who knows what will happen now that Mom and Dad had died? I looked back at the house I had grown up in. The foundation and porch were made of brick but the rest of the house was wood plank. My Dad spent a year trying to pick out the correct color of green for the siding and the right shade of brown and maroon for the trim. The house reflected my Dad’s need for historical restoration. The Drake house was not going to be bastardized by my Dad. No way. The porch stretched down the whole front of the house with a large center staircase taking up a third of the porch. Our whole family could fit on the staircase with room to spare. Even on Dad’s crazy family portrait days with all the resulting shoving that would ensue. He would announce a week in advance his expectation of everyone in attendance, happy and clean. As if he could get four kids all happy and clean at the same moment. Just the talk of taking the picture started the war of avoidance from all but Erin. I wondered if there would be anymore family portraits. I told myself I didn’t care.

If Brianna sees you smoking with all these people here, she’s going to kick your ass, said Brady. I started to give him my best ‘So what’ look, as Brady continued, I know, I know, just let her try in his best mocking imitation of me. My voice was actually husky and when he gave it a go, he could imitate me pretty well. Of course, I would never let him know that.

Brady and I looked left at the same time as we heard a commotion at the curb. It was the sound of way too many old lady heels tapping concrete at the same time. There should be a law against gangs of old ladies. No good ever could come from that many old stubborn women in the place. Seven or eight ladies marched down the sidewalk, large heeled shoes clicking with all-get-out purpose. At least most were walking with purpose; two were practically skipping just trying to keep up. Today was definitely a day where it would be too much to ask for them to keep passing by.

Great, the quilting brigade is here. My particular brand of humor never failed to get a chuckle out of Brady. At least some things remained constant. I tried to do my best to intimidate the old ladies into turning around. I stood up, took a drag and prostrated myself on the column hoping they would think they had the wrong house. It didn’t work. I am going to have to work on that look.

The old woman in the lead stopped at the sidewalk and took in the house, Brady and I. She had salt and pepper hair which looked like she just stepped out of a hairdresser’s from another era. Her hair was rolled, teased and sprayed so thick I had no doubt it could survive a bomb blast. Looking at her brought the image of what June Cleaver’s mother in Leave it to Beaver might have looked like. She was dressed in an ill-fitting light green dress with little white flowers all over it. When I had said quilting brigade I had been inspired. The material belonged on a baby quilt. That many yards should not be allowed on a dress. If her goal was to camouflage all parts of her body, then she succeeded. She had a sweater thrown over her shoulders and a white purse the size of which looked like she could have stuffed a small animal in it. Make that at least two small animals. It was big and I don’t mean Paris Hilton style big. When she stopped, the other women following her stopped as if they were an army all in sync only not that graceful. Then the grey haired woman focused on me.

Her blatant stare startled me for a second. I don’t startle easily. My outfits were designed to startle, but I don’t get startled. This woman was staring at my eyes as if she could see through me. I looked back over my shoulder to see if there was someone behind me, just in case. All I saw was the closed door to the house behind me. "Lady, this is a private party. You see, my Mom and Dad just died and we are ‘celebrating’ their lives", I said whipping my head side to side with all the sarcasm I could muster.

One of the younger women stepped up to the shoulder of the salt and pepper woman and said, Are you sure? There must be a mistake. emphasizing the must with disbelief.

Whispers from all directions………No, way. It can’t be. Are we too late?

They seem to like you, Brady murmured almost matching the level of sarcasm I carried with me daily. He needed to practice more if he was going to reach stellar sarcasm performance levels.

A firm, quiet Shush! brought it all to an end and the group of women all stared at me again. What they saw was one angry Goth teenager who was tired of people in my house. I was dressed in black. I always dressed in black. I use up all my allowance and tutoring money to make myself as unapproachable as possible. Long died black hair, silver jewelry on every finger, wrist and every part of an ear an earring can find. Blood red lipstick, black rimmed eyes, powdered face. Black nail polish on what was left of my nails. I stood fully facing them for a second so they could get a good look.

I gave the women my best angry bored look, matching stare for stare, letting my chin drop so my eyes looked up in a half roll. Brady stood up beside me finally getting angry at the women’s stares. Just as Brady was about to add to my wonderful greeting the salt and pepper woman spoke, I know who you are young lady. For the first time I realized she had an Irish accent. You are a Drake. If you can be kind enough to take me to your sister, Brianna.

I glanced over at Brady and gave him a questioning ‘can you believe this shit’ glance? Find her yourself, I retorted. Another Oh my ran through the quilting brigade. Brady must have started to feel some kind of male guilt for my being mean to an old woman because he said he would take them to Brianna. Sucker. The act earned him a personal scowl from me and a puff of smoke in his face, the ball-less traitor.

As the women marched past me, I did my best to glare menacingly at them. I had spent a lot of time practicing that particular glare and it worked on the younger ones quite effectively. I was disappointed when it did nothing for the salt and pepper lady. In fact, it really irritated me. What’s new, I thought?

After the last women had cleared the door, I quickly got up so I could peer through the window to watch the introduction. I looked into the front room and could see the living room and dining room crammed wall to wall with people. All I heard through the windows was a jumble of conversations.

Earlier in the day, we had laid my parents to rest and our house had been empty. Now my home was being invaded by the after funeral crowd. Last night there had been a big, family blow out in the living room. Brianna insisted we allow people in the home. It was custom she said. Screw custom I said, let’s vote. Brianna said my vote did count, I was only fifteen. I told her if I kicked her ass it would count and nobody made her boss. Brianna said she was the oldest and was boss. Erin chimed in and said Mom and Dad would have wanted us to be brave and would want their friends here. Bullshit, I said then and I still say now.

I tracked the women’s progress through the window. I did not want them to see me and think I was interested, so I had to look through the window at an angle so my body would not show. I wished it was dark already so my clothes would blend in with the night. I watched Brady point to my sister, Brianna. Brady, the woman and her brigade walked up to Brianna and handed her something. Damned if I could see what it was. I was going to have to go inside. If I did, then the woman might know I was interested. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to see what the thing she handed Brianna was. I decided curiosity won over humility and reentered the house in time to see it was some kind of letter. Brianna turned the envelope over and ran a finger over the back of the envelope. Observing the wax seal, I thought at least the old woman had style.

I watched Brianna’s face impatiently while she caressed the letter. I felt the urge to just go over and snatch it out of her hands. Open it already. Patience was not my virtue. Brianna looked up in alarm at the woman. The woman patted her hand and told her to open it. Brianna cracked the wax seal and started to read. Brady and I tried to circle around to get behind Brianna, but neither of us made it in time. Brianna had quickly closed it back up with teary eyes. She asked the old woman, Would you please wait? I have so many guests at the moment. If you can go wait for me in the den, I will be there after the guests leave.

Brady and I looked at each other. What the heck was going on? Do you recognize her? Brady asked. I shook my head no.

Do you? He shook his head no.

We planted ourselves a few steps up on the staircase in the living room so we could get a central view as the women filed into the den. After awhile my sister thanked everyone for coming, but said we all needed a rest and time alone to adjust to the situation. Rather odd, for our sister the diplomat, to kick anyone out before they were ready to leave. Hmmmm. Several of my mother’s neighbors tried to offer their help to clean up, but Brianna declined them. Double Hmmmm. I actually thought I could wait an extra twenty minutes if it meant not having to clean up, but Brianna obviously did not feel the same way. As the door closed on the last guest, we saw Brianna stare at the den. Then she straightened herself up and softly shut the door of the den behind her.

Brady and I jumped up at the same time and jostled for position in front of the door. Fortunately, it was a double door typical of bungalow dens; lots of room to eavesdrop. Unfortunately, the door was the original solid core door, not the cheap hollow tract home crapola.

I put my ear up to kiss the door and told Brady, It’s garbled. I can’t hear everything. Can you? Seeing Brady and I attached to the door caught the attention of Erin and Hannah. Before I knew it, we were all attached at the ear to the door. Brady go get some glasses. Some years back we had seen it in a movie. I was in trouble a lot which meant being locked in my room, a lot. An empty glass went a long way in the spy tools of eavesdropping. I did plenty of eavesdropping on Mom and Dad when they argued what my punishment should or should not be. Knowing what they were thinking and who was feeling like a guilty bad parent went a long way towards developing tactics to worm myself out of trouble. I was desparate enough to want to hear that I was willing to look like a dumbass if it didn’t work.

Brady, looking indignant, said, No, you get some glasses. Why should I leave? Everyone started talking at once trying to not be the one to get the glasses. The door to the den opened and we all fell through. I looked up and the old woman was standing there with a smile on her face. Well, well, it seems we have some peepers. Glasses won’t help dears, so why don’t you run along and help your sister out by cleaning up a bit.

We were all so shocked at being caught in the act nothing came out of our mouths. Not even me. Won’t let that happen again, I swore to myself. Just as suddenly, the door closed on my stunned expression.

All hell broke loose as everyone blamed everyone else for getting caught. I just maintained my seat on the hard wood floor deciding my guilt was not as strong as my curiosity at the moment. I put my ear back up to the door. Brady joined me. Now I can’t hear anything, I whined and looked at Brady. He shook his head, in the negative.

Erin sheepishly left to start cleaning while Hannah followed behind nibbling on the leftover food. Brady and I sat with our backs to the door, dejected, until my devious mind came up with our next plan. The window, I shouted way too loudly for a spy. Brady raced right behind me trying to catch my lead. Our house still had the original windows which were gorgeous compared to the new plastic ones everyone was putting up. The windows were not great for keeping the cold or traffic noise out, being old glass, but excellent for spying purposes. What doesn’t keep the noise out, also doesn’t keep the noise in, I mused. Brady and I weren’t new to the window spying business, at all. We snuck underneath the window being sure to be quiet this time so we wouldn’t be caught.

I still couldn’t hear a word. The only thing we could do was watch through the glass panes. The old woman was doing all the talking while the other women stood around Brianna who was sitting down and looking sadder than I had even seen her at the funeral this morning. Brianna started talking and tears started streaming down her face. Brady softly spoke, They must be talking about Mom and Dad. I was silent for a change. Only for a second, until my exasperation set in. "What the hell? Are they whispering? We should be able to hear something. Are you picking anything up?"

No. As if this day couldn’t get weirder, Brady proclaimed.

Why were these women here? Obviously, because my parents had died and the funeral and all. Even so...hmmm. Brianna had been in the car when the crash happened and she was the eldest. So, it made a certain amount of sense they had cornered Brianna alone. At nineteen she was the only true adult amongst us kids. I got the feeling she was retelling the story to the women and told Brady, Let’s go back inside. I was starting to feel guilty about watching my sister suffer and there was no point to eavesdropping when you can’t hear. I thought back to what I knew of the accident that had happened days before. A semi-truck T-boned my parent’s car at an intersection sending them rolling over. My Dad was driving and the cops said he went through a red light. The truck struck my Dad’s door and killed him instantly. Mom died on the way to the hospital. Brianna had been in the back seat right behind Mom. She ended up just cut up and bruised. Brianna had ridden in the ambulance to the hospital with Mom and had watched her die.

I walked back into the house and slouched in a chair, my butt teetering on the edge. Brady just stood and watched the door. Eventually, Erin and Hannah joined us in the waiting game. Finally, the door opened. Brianna and the women came out together. Everyone, she announced, this is Sadie Watkins, a friend of Mom’s. Seppy, can you come in for a second?

Why? My challenge just blurted out. I wanted to find out what was going on but it seemed my smart ass attitude was in reflex mode and refused to be turned off.

Briana’s bossiness was also a reflex as I very well knew. Mom didn’t have to die for Briana to be bossy. She had been trying for fifteen years to be the boss of me. She said, Seppy, get in here, each word spoken slowly. Her frustration was apparent in her voice.

Before the logical part of my brain could override my brain that runs natural hate of authority I spat with venum, Fuck you! The personal conversation in my brain was screaming, stupid, don’t you want to know what it is about? Just go in! Self- control was definitely not my strong suit.

Now young lady, foul language is not appropriate for anyone’s ears. Please watch your language. That is no way for a young lady to speak, said Sadie Watkins.

Apparently, you missed the news wire. I am not a lady. Brady chuckled and piped in, I’ll second the motion. The comment bought him a punch in the arm from me.

Only Brianna’s emotion filled voice stopped all the talking. September Drewry Drake, can you please come in for a moment. We need to talk with you.

I really wanted to know what was going on. I figured I had adequately shown my resistance to Brianna’s authority and she had said please… At last! At last I was going to find out what in the hell was going on. I strutted to the room in my best Goth walk just to get the message across I was not one of her little ladies following like a duckling. I held my chin down, eyes up, and walked a walk fit for the catwalk beyond my sixteen years. Brianna shut the door behind me. Sit down September.

That’s okay, I prefer to stand. I read once sitting while everyone else is standing gives up power. I had a bad feeling I was going to be the odd man out on this discussion. Being the old man out was not unusual, just usually the situation was a bunch of narrow minded high school girls and not a bunch of garden club bores. The need to stand was inherent in my being.

Well I can see you don’t like beating around the bush, so let’s just get down to it. I am Sadie Watkins, a good friend of your Mother and these fine ladies are my dear friends too. We are here to tell you, you are different.

I laughed. This had to be a joke. No kidding. Tell me, what gave it away? I couldn’t stop giggling. I anguished in front of the mirror every morning making sure I looked different.

Seppy Brianna admonished me, they are trying to tell you something important.

Sadie Watkins continued where I had interrupted, September, you have a special gift that can only be passed to certain children. You are the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. Your mother was a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, as was your grandmother. This gift, a special gene, only appears in female seventh children. Do you understand?

I was starting to think they were all looney. It’s always best to placate the loons right? So I played along, I think you can’t count? I held up fingers as I counted, speaking as if I was talking to a dense four year old. Briana, Erin, Brady and then me. Fourth, not seventh.

Brianna started in on me. She told me, "Please don’t be your smart ass self for just a few minutes and listen to what Sadie has to tell you.

Why should I?

Well, my dear, Sadie began, because it could be life or death.

My heart stopped. What do you mean? I asked. Everyone just stared at me. It was beginning to be the pastime of the day. Do I have leukemia? MS? As the words tumbled out of my mouth I realized I was buying what she was selling.

No, no. It is something different. Something your mother should have prepared you for. Sadie’s tone showed she didn’t approve of my mother’s silence in the matter.

If she wanted me to like her, she was not using the right tactic and I told her so, If my Mother knew she would have told me. And fourth, not seventh. I held up four fingers and stabbed them into the air.

Sadie spoke, Your mother had three miscarriages. That makes you the seventh child. She did know September. She wrote it down..

Nessa thrust the letter I had been so interested in an hour before. I took it, hesitating for only a second. I am fierce; I told myself, I am not afraid. I recognized Mom’s hand writing instantly. The first page began,

Brianna,

If you are reading this, it is because I am no longer with you. The lawyers and the funeral have passed. The lawyer should have read the letter I left to you and your brother and sisters. If they haven’t, please stop and please read that letter first. If you have read it, you know how much you children mean. You were my world!

If you are reading this, it also means Sadie Watkins is standing on your door step. She is a legal Trustee for part of my estate in addition to your Daddy’s lawyers you have already met. You must trust her. Sadie is September’s Godmother. What I am about to tell you must stay between your brother and sisters, and Sadies. You must not let anyone else read this letter!

I have kept a secret about September’s health from her all her life. I know it might not have been fair, but I wanted her to have a normal childhood. I wanted her to grow up just like the rest of my children. To not feel different. The truth is, September is different. She carries a gene I might have passed on to her. The other children need not be concerned; September is the only one that can be infected. I have been watching for symptoms her entire life, and have hopes she isn’t infected.

If you are reading this, then I am no longer