T. Thorn Coyle is the author of several magic-filled series with diverse casts: the Seashell Cove Paranormal Mysteries, the Pride Street Paranormal Cozy Mysteries, The Steel Clan Saga, The Witches of Portland, the Mouse Thief Cozy Fantasy Capers, and The Panther Chronicles. Thorn's multiple non-fiction books include You Are the Spell, Sigil Magic for Writers, Artists & Other Creatives, Kissing the Limitless, Make Magic of Your Life, and The Midlist Indie Author Mindset.

Thorn lives in beautiful Portland Oregon where they drink tea, go for walks, and talk to crows, squirrels, and trees.

The Witches of Portland 3 - By Wind by T. Thorn Coyle

Danger and corruption stalk the streets of Portland, Oregon. The witches of Arrow and Crescent Coven must face their shadows, harness their magic, and prepare to fight...

With magic on their side, and a community filled with compassion and anger, the witches gather their tools and take to the streets and the astral planes. Seeking justice, the Witches of Portland will defend their city by any magic necessary.

Fueled by love, the Witches of Portland are a powerful force that cannot be denied.

If you like fast-paced plots, real-world issues, strong LGBTQ+ rep, and a thread of romance, then you'll love The Witches of Portland, a series of paranormal urban fantasy novels. This bundle includes the first three books in this exciting nine book series: By Earth, By Flame, and By Wind!

CURATOR'S NOTE

T. Thorn Coyle's Witches of Portland series extends to nine books so far. Thorn lives in Portland, which they use in their writing a lot. These books have a traditional fantasy feel, but once you've started reading, you know you're in a brand-new world, in the hands of a master. – Kristine Kathryn Rusch

 

REVIEWS

  • "This is the best, most authentic, diverse, contemporary urban fantasy series that I've read in a long time."

    – Reader review
 

BOOK PREVIEW

Excerpt

1

BRENDA

T

he first pangs of a headache started at the base of Brenda's skull. It felt like pressure, building up inside of her, waiting to burst free. Or crush her in its wake.

Don't be so dramatic, she thought. It's just a change in barometric pressure or something.

Except the sky was blue today. There wasn't any storm on the horizon.

As a matter of fact, Brenda should feel energized. This was her time of year. It was almost Vernal Equinox, and the moon was waxing toward half. Everything should feel as if it was tipping toward balance, but instead, everything felt wrong.

She needed balance this year, more than ever. Portland did, too, after the scandals that had rocked local government during the fall and winter. Scandals that Arrow and Crescent Coven had been smack in the middle of.

The sun was out, though the cold rains would be back soon, Brenda was sure. But today was one of those rare, perfect, late March days when people pretended it was warm enough to leave their heavy coats at home and venture out only in a sweater or light jacket.

She should have felt awesome. Instead, it took everything she had to pay attention to the customers, and to keep her psychic shields up and at the ready. The headache made both almost impossible.

The Inner Eye was busy for a Wednesday, late morning. Not jammed, but there were several people browsing the books, gems, divination tools, and herbs.

Lead crystals in the windows caught the sunlight and refracted it into tiny rainbows that danced throughout the store. Brenda tried to soothe her jangled nerves and increasing pain by humming along to Loreena McKennitt's voice and harp.

Tempest, her part-time worker and full-time coven sister, walked toward the back room, with a box of books UPS had just delivered. They would need pricing. This month, the back and sides of Tempest's head were shaved, and a straight fall of teal hair fell down around her delicate face.

"Can't we listen to something other than this caterwauling?"

Tempest was a gifted massage therapist and also a young smart-ass.

"No. The customers like it." Brenda had loved this album since it was new. She didn't care how many years ago that was. It made her feel like her best, most witchy self, even on days like today, when she really wanted to crawl back into bed with an old favorite book, like one of Charles de Lint's.

It was weird that she felt in such need of comfort. She wondered what was coming. What was wrong.

The bells over the door rang, and young Black man, dressed neatly in a red windbreaker, a retro Run-DMC T-shirt and skinny jeans over Chuck Taylor sneakers looked around, and approached the counter.

"Um…do you have any Palo Santo?" he asked.

Brenda smiled. "I do. Just got some in, as a matter of fact."

She scanned the shelves on the wall, behind the counter, eyes searching the large glass jars. "I put it on this shelf just yesterday…" she muttered. "Tempest? Did you move the Palo Santo?"

Tempest came back, sans box of books. "Yes! Sorry! I took it down for another customer this morning, got busy, and forgot to put it back. It's here."