Page 62 of The Book of Unwritten Stories

‘Thank you, it was.’

Sephy expertly guided her to a chair and had her sitting down before Lenny got inside. Dora smiled at her aunts then realised there was no easy way to do this.

‘Do you know why Morana’s name is written in The Book of Black Magic?’

Sephy looked to Lenny. ‘Do we know this, dear? I don’t think we do.’

Lenny rolled her eyes. ‘I take it you’ve filled her in on the basics, Dora, told her about our complicated lives?’

‘As best as I could.’

‘Good, I see no point in beating around the bush, you need to know. Morana, your name is in the book because you are a bloodline witch.’

‘Look, I don’t want to seem rude, but so everyone keeps saying. What does that even mean, was the book mine?’

‘Technically, yes. Lenny and I figured it out last night, you were John Hadden’s firstborn daughter.’ Sephy was pacing up and down.

Dora was staring at her.

‘The John Hadden who also happened to be my father?’ she whispered.

‘Yes, Dora. The very same, who it seemed disappeared leaving both of you in a whole world of trouble in the most unforgiving of times.’

‘Sisters,’ whispered Morana, her gaze fixed on Dora. ‘That’s what Hades kept saying to me, sisters.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, that bird. Where the hell is he anyway?’ muttered Lenny.

Dora didn’t know how she felt, but she did know one thing for sure: she wished that this family would stop keeping secrets and start to tell the truth.

FIFTY

SALEM VILLAGE, 1676

Lucine pined for John Hadden every single day since he’d left so sudden. He’d filled her heart with so much love and joy then torn it in two by going away and never returning. Foolish woman had thought they shared a deep bond that could not be broken, how wrong was she.

Lenora and Seraphina had begged her to leave for her own safety when she found out she was with child. Her sisters had been willing to pack up their worldly belongings and move to a different part of New England so Lucine would be safe. She had refused, for if she moved John would never find her and she thought that he would come back for her, or she wished that he would.

She took the basket of herbs and potions she made every week for Matthew Hall who lived on the other side of Salem village and began the long walk to see him. He was a kind man, older than her by at least twenty years, and his heart was failing. It upset her so for he was one of the nicest men in the village. He did not bear witness to the foolish rules the strict Puritans followed and would often make Lucine laugh. He was a good friend to her, and she would do everything in her power to make sure he was as comfortable as he could be. The heat from the sun was bearing down on her and she found it difficult to walk as quickly as she normally would. When she reached Matthew’s smallholding he was standing at the door, his hands on his hips watching for her.

‘Are you well, Lucine? You do not look it.’

She shook her head. ‘Nay, Matthew, I have been better. This heat, it makes me feel as if my feet are wading through a field of mud.’

He rushed to her and pushed his arm through the crook of hers, taking the basket from her hands. He helped her inside and she released a long, slow breath.

‘Thank thee, I am so glad to be inside where it is far cooler.’

He pulled out a chair and guided her to it, then fetched her a cup of ale to quench her thirst. She took it from him, grateful for his kindness.

‘You are a good man, Matthew Hall.’

He laughed. ‘You are a good woman, Lucine English, I do not care to see you feeling this way. You are the lifeline that makes my heart a little stronger with every visit.’

At his kind words Lucine felt tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes and she knew she was for the first time in her life about to cry in front of someone other than her sisters. The tears came; she could not stop them if she tried. She gulped and sobbed so loud that she feared the house would shake at the noise. Poor Matthew looked bewildered and this made her cry even more.

He passed her a handkerchief to dry her tears with and wipe her nose.

‘Pray tell me, Lucine, what is troubling you so? Is it something that I can help you with?’