Belated: A Tale From The Magic Bean

By Satyra Kent

Welcome to The Magic Bean Coffeehouse, a quaint little coffeeshop in Takoma Park Maryland. The proprietor Genn is a witch who has given up on love and pours all her energy into her coven, her shop and her two dogs Mutt and Jeff- twin Basenjis she rescued while on vacation overseas. Just before Samhain she went to Georgia to visit her grandmother

• Language: English
• Publisher: Octopus Dog Press
• Release date: Sep 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9781088071069

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Belated- A Tale from the Magic Bean © 2022 by Satyra O. Kent

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic methods without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author at the address below.

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To My Love

Belated A tale From The Magic Bean

1

Love is heavy and light, bright and dark, hot and cold, sick and healthy, asleep and awake- its everything except what it is!

William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet

Prologue

October 30th Dahlonega, Georgia

Ro said Uncle John told her Gran’s been dreaming of late. That new wife of his thinks she’s touched and wants to get her checked for Alzheimer's. Dee’s lowered voice was barely more than a whisper, and Genn stole a glance over her shoulder at their grandmother. Grandma Shannon lifted an eyebrow then shook her head and smiled down at her knitting from her seat on the back porch. Genn laughed as Dee moved to pick up her shovel. She couldn’t help but wonder if it had been a good idea for their gran to move down here, her aunt and uncle were a tad much. She lowered her voice before replying.

More like that bottle blond twit has decided that living in this big old house would be a lot better if Gran was in a home somewhere.

Y’all stop nattering about me and get to shoveling. We got cleansing to do before the circle tomorrow night. They laughed again, grabbing their shovels, and shaking their heads. While there might be some question as to if her mind was going, there was absolutely nothing wrong with her ears. That was the thing about family. Things change, things stay the same, but you knew there was always someplace you belonged. Home. Home, a gentle wave of acceptance that pulsed through the land and the lake at their backs binding them together and centered in the building looming over them.

Their family home was a large plantation style southern house, the kind that was popular in the late 19th century. The white paint faded near the roofline due to the frequent gusts of wind that accompanied the heavy rainstorms they got up in the mountains of Georgia. Most didn’t consider them mountains at all, the elevation wasn’t impressive like some of the younger mountain ranges in the states. But then, like most things in Georgia the passage of time and the hard trials that came with it had whittled them away. The wind and rain blunting the peaks to gentle rolling hills that grew lower and swampier the farther south you traveled. The mountains were the product of hard, steady work, like the work their Gran wanted them to do now. Genn tossed back the last of the tea and picked up her shovel again, moving towards the charred stump just to the edge of the area their gran had deemed perfect for this year’s garden.

You made a good start, Genn. Let’s finish this up and then the next round a tea gets a hit of gin, Dee said, interrupting her thoughts.

Now you’re talking. Genn moved her glass to the stump and the two put their backs into turning the 6x6 plot of earth. Genn tossed a mound to the side, then frowned as a glint of metal caught her eye. Kneeling, she picked it up and almost lost it as a sudden gust of wind swept off the water and pulled the cap from her head. She smoothed away the dirt with her fingers and found a long, tarnished chain connected to a square metal locket of indeterminate composition.

What do you make of this, Dee? Genn held the necklace by the end of the chain as another gust swept off the water. Then everything changed. Storm clouds gathered in a torrent of wind and dust, a heavy curtain of chaos that dimmed the autumn sky to the point of dusk. Genn wrapped the end of the chain round her hand twice, then fisted the rest and looked up at the porch where their Gran sat.

Only she wasn’t sitting any longer. The wind whipped at her frail form, and she stood ramrod straight, her long skirt whipping in undulating waves about her knees. Her cane lay forgotten beside her overturned chair.

You put that back. the voice that came from her lips was gruffer, the light southern drawl replaced with a low, honeyed hiss that crawled over their flesh in a stinging wave like they’d kicked over a mound of fire ants. Genn looked at Dee and she nodded, kneeling to draw a circle around them both with a stone. Then together they drew in energy from the air. Her magic came swiftly to her call, building a shield between them and whatever spoke through their grandmother.

Why? Genn asked, wishing the word had come easier from her lips. Speaking took effort. Breathing took effort. Standing in the wind under the darkened sky took every ounce of strength she had, and the necklace burned in her hand.

The work is not yet done. You’ll but cause her suffering while she waits. the voice dripped sorrow and Genn felt the urge to comfort her. She wanted to walk to her grandmother, but the cyclone of air and power held her in place. The ground beneath their feet pitched, rumbling with a wave of seismic energy that nearly knocked them down. From the distance, all they could see was the blankness of their grandmother’s expression. Genn needed to see her eyes, needed to know she was okay.

Who? My Gran? Who are you? Genn’s voice grew louder as dust pelleted their limbs and burning of her hand receded. She took a deep breath, then another- slowing her racing heart and gaining focus from the shielding. She could feel the curtain of will Dee held behind her, forcing as much power as she could gather into the shield to push back at the energy of the attack. For long moments nothing happened, a silent battle of wills raged, Genn and Dee using everything they had, everything they were to protect each other from the emotion fueled winds. Then their grandmother nodded and shook her head sadly.

So be it then, girl. You’ll share her part. The wind died, and the sky cleared, leaving no trace of the sudden storm. Their Gran turned and righted her chair, then sat as if nothing at all had happened. Dee sank in a heap to the ground and Genn brushed a toe over the circle to break it, then ran through the yard and up the porch stairs to their grandmother.

Gran! Genn lay her head in the old woman’s lap, barely holding back tears. The years melted away, and she felt like a child again, looking for comfort and reassurance. Her body shuddered and she didn’t breathe easier until she felt the press of a hand against her head.

Goodness, child, you had a fright, didn’t you? Her grandmother’s voice was as strong as ever, back to normal. Dee joined them on the porch and went to her other side, pressing her head to the woman’s shoulder.

That woman, she said ... Genn struggled to put her thoughts to words but only shook her head, relaxing into the comforting feel of her grandmother’s presence.

Calm yourself, child, I’m alright. I guess she was determined to stop us- much more determined than I could have known when I set you to digging at the root of the hanging tree. Genn lifted her head and looked at her grandmother’s creased face and the sad smile that touched her lips.

What do you mean, Gran? Genn asked, catching Dee’s worried gaze.

Had a dream that told me we needed to dig here instead, not sure why, but it’s clear something wanted us to find that. It’s also clear that something else didn’t want it found. Dee and Genn shared another look and shivered like children at their grandmother’s feet. The release of adrenaline leaving them stunned and near tears.

You girls listen good now. Things are in motion. Have been for a while but finding that locket might just speed it up. I don’t know the how or the why, don’t even know who really, but my Gran whispered in my ear that the time was near, and I haven’t heard her voice so clearly in years.

What time? Is this the dreaming John’s wife is going on about?

That twit likes to stir the pot. Married herself a fine man, not that it is enough for the likes of her. She’s sweet enough but spends her days coveting. She never had a family to teach her proper. Doesn’t know her history. She’s the type whose people called the Civil War the War of Northern Aggression. They exchanged knowing looks and shook their heads. Genn looked out at the half-turned plot, her mind spinning with questions.

Why do y’all call it the hanging tree Gran? That thing has been a stump longer than I have been alive. She asked, to distract herself. Her voice sounded more normal, though her heart had yet to slow.

It was a stump when I was a child, too. Hasn’t rotted away no matter how much time has passed. Doubt it ever will. One of our ancestors hung himself from it before my grandmother was born. His father was so grief stricken he went out and chopped it down himself. Had the wood burned in the pyre they used to send him on. They followed the old ways then. Our kin had a wand made from the wood- powerful thing. It passed to me when my Gran passed on and I passed it to your aunt when I stepped down as head of the Eastern Circles. I suspect Rowena will choose which of you to give it to when the time comes. She shook her head and looked off into the distance, watching the sunset over the water of the Chestatee.

Did you know the locket was there? Dee asked, and Genn opened her fist to see the edges of the tarnished metal had cut into her hand.

No, but I felt a presence each time I came to gather herbs from my garden. And my Gran whispered it couldn’t pass on until the working ends. She nodded in the river's direction.

It has the feel of a woman’s fine hand at the reins. This spell does. And the presence- it didn’t feel like anything really, it just felt there. Y’all know what I mean. They nodded, so she continued. Didn’t get any thoughts off it, didn’t feel any movement. What I felt was a drain. That spot will suck the happiness away from you if you stand there long enough. Like some of the old monuments to the dead, where you know the glimmer of a soul lost clings to this world helpless to do much more. Such a pretty spot so near the water needs a tree to shade it so you can sit a spell out of the sun and feel the breeze from the river if you have a mind to. Wouldn’t dare try that, things being as they are now.

Genn nodded. She couldn’t remember ever lingering down by the river, not even when she was old enough to play out back unaccompanied. They’d instinctively stayed away. Now she knew why.

Best keep that close, child, no telling what it will do now. We stirred things up. Doubt much more will happen today so y’all can get back out there to work. Your cousins will be here after a while to help charge the circle for tomorrow. Their Gran rose and moved back towards the house, her cane thumping loudly on the old deck boards.

Yes’m. they said and rose on shaky legs to resume digging. Genn pushed the locket deeper into her pocket. It fairly burned there, and she wondered if she was actually feeling a presence attached to it or if it were her imagination. As much as she wanted to push the thought of it away she couldn’t. With every mound of dirt she dug she felt the weight of it like a shackle around her heart. Locking her into the rhythm of uncertainty and fear.

CHAPTER 1

Long after midnight, Genn stood in the den looking out at the lake. The bonfire still crackled in the wind. Only embers remained but it was enough to illuminate the yard and water beyond. She’d left the lights off, wrapping herself in the quiet of the mountain air and her thoughts while the rest of the house slumbered around her. She’d talked for hours with her cousins about what happened in the garden and what it meant. They hadn’t come up with any ideas before the celebration and after, she’d spent her time visiting with her relatives. Not that she told them anything. She hadn’t wanted to talk to her aunties about what happened. Not even her aunt Ro, who she normally told everything. She’d could have said something to Rowena when she’d called her but held back. Her aunt hadn’t come down like normal. It was the one time when all the siblings aside from Murphy, who was in Ireland, and Maeve, who was in Hawaii, got together. It worried her almost as much as the locket. Her aunt Ro never missed the Samhain celebration with her family. Something major had to have kept her from making the trip. Yet the curiosity and worry over that took a back seat to the mystery surrounding the locket. Genn heard movement behind her and turned to see her grandmother standing in the doorway, leaning lightly on her cane.

What are you looking at, child? Her grandmother said, coming to stand next to her at the window.

Nothing really. I was just standing here, enjoying the quiet. Thinking about everything and what I have to do once I get home.

Her grandmother touched her shoulder, then turned on the table lamp next to her favorite chair and seated herself. Everything meaning the locket.

Genn nodded and moved to sit across from her. That thing that took you over, the spirit. It scared the crap out of me.

And now you’re wondering what else you don’t know about our family. If someone buried other secrets here, too. Genn shrugged. Was she? Had finding the locket shaken something in her? It made sense. She’d thought she knew all there was to know about her family history. At least the important parts. Now she didn’t know what to think.

I guess you’re right. You and Pop-Pop never let on that there was anything to know. Everyone is so close. Well, except for the ones who went over and stayed, Genn said, thinking of her father and Rowena’s son.

You ever wonder why we look everywhere but the States for our soul mates? her Gran asked, pinning her with an enigmatic look.

I thought it was to keep our ties to Ireland strong and find someone of power.

Pah. There are witches aplenty in this country. No. It’s because of the fire.

What do you mean? Is the ghost someone who died in it?

Might be. Makes more sense than the nonsense my cousins told me. I never gave it a second thought until I dreamed of Nanny. She whispered to me to remember. To remember the pain and the promise. That’s what she said. The pain and the promise.

What does that mean?

I don’t know. Everything? Nothing? Who can tell, it was a dreaming. All I know is what she told me. Nanny said it happened the night my great, great, great-grandmother Shannon was born. You know how every generation of our family has a woman named Shannon? It’s because Shannon was the first member of our family born after the fire. Your father wanted to name you Shannon, but your that was your mother’s name she wanted you to have something of your own. That’s why it’s your middle name. A compromise. She shook her head and hummed before continuing. Anyway, everything in our family uses that fire as a starting date. Shannon’s birthday. You know she never met her mother’s parents. They died there too. As did her father and all her brothers, except two. One who’d moved north years before and stayed there after he married, and the other who’d stayed on with her father’s parents in Georgia. The two sides of the family never spoke a word to each other until the mother passed on.

Genn frowned and tilted her head.

I’d never heard that. Was it because of the fire? Did Nanny ever tell you how it started? Her grandmother nodded.

She did. It started because of the funeral bier for her oldest brother. That night they heard words on the wind. Words born in the pain of loss and fire for revenge. Then the wind swept off the burning mound and onto the house. Her father, Liam McGee wouldn’t wait for anyone to come with the water cart, he ran into the house screaming for those left behind. The ones who were inside tending her mother. They were afraid she’d lose the baby because of the shock.

How come you never told me this? Genn asked, her stomach knotting with fear. Her gran shrugged.

Like I said, it was just a sad story she’d tell to quiet us at bedtime. But I remember every word because she did. She said her great-grandmother would get tears in her eyes thinking of the father she never knew and the home they’d lost.

Obviously they rebuilt right away.

No. It was nigh 20 years before they began construction on the new house. The ruins sat rotting while they sold off all the farmland except a few acres right around where the house used to be. No one wanted any reminders of who they’d been or what they’d lost.

What does that have to do with a ghost? Genn asked, and her gran sighed.

I wish I had written it down. I know my grandmother wrote about it in her journal. All I know is what I can remember. She told me what they did. They said the fire was proof we’d never find what we seek until we cleared the blood from the land She said something about balance too but I don’t remember. Things fade as you age. She nodded and then leaned forward. The family assumed we needed to leave this country and vowed we would go back to Ireland. Those who stayed vowed to marry no one born here. She leaned back and Genn frowned.

Never find what we seek… I wonder what that means. Actually, I don’t really care unless I need to know in order to fix this. I have this locket now, and it worries me. I am not sure what to do.

Like I said, my gran told me, and I am telling you. Since that spirit said you would share her part, I am thinking it means that you are the key to figuring all this out. But I worry Genny girl. You spend too much time alone, more than any of my other grandchildren.. You never did like anyone helping you. You always had to prove you could do it yourself. That’s why you’re not married. Genn clamped her mouth shut until she could reply without gritting her teeth.

I’m too busy to think about relationships. Heck, I’m too busy to think about solving some 150-year-old mystery.

Well, you need to get less busy. Go to Ireland or someplace not quite as nice and find yourself a good man. You can’t depend on one coming to you like your cousins. If you don’t take your destiny in hand, something else will do it for you. I got a feeling that you’re about to make time for a lot of things you don’t consider important. Her grandmother stood after saying this, using her cane to aid her as she climbed heavily from her chair and walked toward the doorway.

Genn sat watching her go, then returned to the window. The fading firelight felt like an omen, even though she knew it wasn’t. A clearing away of the old so something new could spring forth. That was something most people didn’t understand about witches. Those on the outside looking in looked at witches and power through the lens of Hollywood. Skulls, curses, pretty rocks vibrating as they hover in the center of a pentagram painted in silver or blood. They didn’t see the everyday normality of witchcraft and the subtly of the spirits whispering secrets on the wind. Her grandmother’s story had frightened her on some level. Her stomach had yet to unclench from the way it had knotted as her grandmother related ancient history. She knew the feeling. Her intuition was trying to tell her something important. She wished she was better at seeing what was coming. Clearly, something in that half-remembered tale was important. But what? Looking out at the dying fire she felt as if finding the locket had placed a chasm just ahead of her that only waited a single misstep to plunge her in. Of course, it could just be irritation over the last part of their conversation. Genn had known she wouldn’t escape her gran’s comments about her lack of love life. Knowing that she contributed to the family in other ways didn’t make her feel any better about the dismal state of her personal affairs. They expected her to be out there making babies. It wasn’t that she was picky, although in modern times it paid to pick and choose since swiping right on the wrong guy could land you with an incel or a red hat wearing moron. It was that she’d never met a guy who she wanted to take more than one look at. She’d dated in college and grad school and traveled to visit family in London, Cork, Georgia, and O’ahu. But she’d yet to meet a guy that made her want to stick with him. Luckily her business kept her so busy that she didn’t have time to worry about the desert wasteland that was her love life. One day she would meet someone that made her want to give love a try but not now. Now that she had the locket, she definitely wouldn’t have time to even think about love. Despite what her gran said.

Genn propped her hands behind her head and peered up at the sun. The breeze coming off the lake made it just cool enough for comfort and she relished the sensation.

Shannon, come away from there now. Genn shook her head and smiled, sitting up and leaning back on her elbows.

Aw Nanny, you never let me just enjoy the sun. She stood and wiped the back of her gown, shaking out her skirts to make sure she didn’t bring too much of the garden back inside with her. Your mother doesn’t want you to get too dark. Your skin is delicate, it would burn something awful. her nanny nodded as she said this, rocking back and forth on the carved wooden rocking chair sitting under the canopy over the back porch.

It’s so pretty here Nanny. I wonder why mama never wants us to come visit Niall. The new house is going to be lovely when they finish.

I suppose. I remember the old house. This one is nice, but it isn’t as nice as what old Mister Conner built. He had it built special for your grandfather Connor junior. Your daddy was born in that house.

I wish I’d met him. She walked up to where Nanny was and sat at