Page 33 of The 13th Daughter (The Witches of New Salem #1)

She could not stop the horror, but she tried to help the child we would betray for our own revenge.

The goddess Agrona desired a blood sacrifice for her aide.

She demanded payment from one of one of our own, the 13th bearer of life, born on the day of shadows and light.

The girl must burn to relive the horror of that night so those who died may find a way back to seek their vengeance.

The flames and her pain will be their beacon and her blood shall bind the returned souls together to form the evil that will soar into the night and seek those who are of the same blood as our betrayers.

Perhaps Sara's efforts will work. Only the passage of time will tell.

Our people are angry and hurt. Their need for vengeance is a powerful thing.

I understand it, but I cannot share in it.

What was done to our families and friends was a terrible thing, but if we do this, hold this curse in our hearts, than we are no better than our betrayers.

We will do to a child of our own flesh and blood what was done unto us.

We Bishops will do what we can to stop this.

I have sealed this book to all Coven members until a true Coven leader is borne unto us again.

The others will only be able to use the good in the book.

The darker magic is bound from eyes that wish to use it for ill, except for the curse.

Mayhap it will be enough. I do not know.

We leave in the morning for a place called North Carolina.

We are hopeful we will be able to establish a village where we can be free to practice our magic.

But I am afeard. The only ones going with us are the families of the betrayed and those who were horrified at what the Coven had done to us.

Anger breeds hate. I am afeard their hatred will harbor for centuries and breed a legacy of death and vengeance.

They will destroy their own because of their hatred.

We will do what we can to stop this, but it shall not be enough.

Sara may have torn their souls asunder, but only one of them will have the strength of will needed to stop this madness.

I have seen it in my dreams. I must warn the child.

I have cast my own spell. She shall relive the burning in her dreams. It will serve as a warning to her.

I pray someone understands it and aides her.

The Fates are cruel at times, but perhaps they shall decide to smile upon the girl. I pray so.

Madeline Bishop

I closed the Book and sat back. I had my answers.

At least now I understood the curse and what Sara Bishop had done to try and stop it.

Mostly. That night in 1692, George Howe decided he wasn't going to take his fate lying down.

He cursed the members of his Coven who had betrayed them to keep themselves from being named as witches.

He called upon the god Arwan and the goddess Agrona to help him cast a curse.

The thirteenth daughter, or the thirteenth bearer of life as they put it back in the day, born on Samhain, Halloween, signified the thirteen who had burned.

Her blood would invoke the curse and give their ancestors a way to come back and seek their vengeance.

Since the original betrayers were dead, their descendants would suffer and die because of the curse. Sins of the father and all that.

Sara did what she could to stop it.

Born not as one, but as two.

The thirteenth daughter wasn't me or Kay.

It was both of us. We'd always been connected on some strange level.

Now I understood why. We were the same, our soul torn in half when we were born to try and stop the curse from being invoked.

Even if they killed one of us, the curse would still fail as long as the other lived.

Madeline's vision showed her that only one of us would be able to stop the curse and she'd given a warning to that child.

She'd given it to me. It had always been mine.

When my dad took it from me, it found the other half of my soul—Kay.

That's why she had started to have the dream.

She was never supposed to see it. Maybe that's why it was so hard for her, why it almost killed her.

It all made so much sense now. Except for one thing.

How did Matthew fit into all this? I really needed to talk to Ethan.

"Mr. Warren, thank you for giving me my Book."

He smiled, his gray eyes almost silver with the warmth that glowed within them. They looked so much like Ethan's. "You're welcome, Mistress."

Mistress? Uh, no. Not going there.

"No, Mr. Warren, that's a title I don't want."

He laughed. "Doesn't matter what any of us want, girlie. The Fates decide our lot and yours is Mistress."

I frowned. At least I understood where Ethan got his penchant for saying outrageous things. "I really came to see your grandson..."

"My what?" he asked sharply.

"Ethan...you're grandson."

"I don't have a grandson, Mistress. I never married when things didn't work out with my Suzie."

"But Ethan said you were his grandfather. You have his eyes..."

"What did you say his name was?"

"Ethan Matthew Warren."

He paled and grabbed the book, throwing it behind the couch. Then he yanked me up and pulled me into the hallway towards the front door. I was surprised the old man could move so fast at his age.

"Wait," I pleaded. "What is it? What's wrong?"

He stopped and turned to face me. "You need to run, child. Run as far and as fast as you can."

"Cassie Jayne won't be going anywhere," Ethan laughed from the now open doorway. "Except with us."