Page 15 of The Redd Key (Bone Coven #1)

H ad my mother been cheating on my father? The world spun around me. I quickly drank the rest of my wine to preoccupy myself while I worked out the timeline.

“Sorry, Rai, I didn’t mean to open Pandora’s Box.” Bridget crouched down in front of me, her face inches from mine. Her verdant eyes were sympathetic as she spoke, “I shouldn’t have tried to do math with a wine buzz.” She slightly swayed, just enough to lose her balance, and fell flat on her ass. The three of us burst into a belly laugh, full of squeaks and snorts, and I’m pretty sure someone laughed so hard they farted.

“Ok! Ok, ok, let’s bring it back,” Sarah urged while wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “I think we have much bigger things to deal with. Raina, I’m not entirely sure what we uncovered in the cove, but Anabel warned us to be careful when I filled her in this morning.”

“Does she want to see what we found?” I looked up at the back room, trying to catch Anabel’s attention.

“She wanted nothing to do with it.” Sarah’s usually bright face darkened, sobering me and Bridget. “We sort of got into a disagreement about it.” She placed her spoon in her bowl and grabbed her wine glass. Instead of taking a sip, she tapped the side with her fingertips, avoiding eye contact.

“You two never argue!” Bridget tilted her head as her eyes softened with her concern.

“I’m sorry, what did she have to say about it all?” I asked.

“She said ‘some things should stay buried.’” Sarah mimicked Anabel’s aged register. I dropped my glass.

“Shit, Raina! Good thing it’s plastic and empty.” Bridget jumped up from the floor.

“What did you just say?” I stared at Sarah as a boulder of dread plummeted into my gut. The weight of her words pulled me under, into an icy pool of emotions and I shivered from their coldness.

“Raina,” Bridget said slowly, quickly glancing at Sarah and then back at me. “What’s going on?”

The journal laid on the table, all drab and brown. I grabbed it and quickly unfurled the cord with complete disregard for the artifact’s age. Flipping open to the back cover, I showed the two of them the inscribed words.

“Some things should stay buried,” Bridget whispered, reading the last of Black Sam’s words and raising a hand to her mouth.

“I don’t like this,” Sarah said, shaking her head and sitting back in her chair, distancing herself from the journal.

“Black Sam Bellamy said those exact words over three hundred years ago. What is Anabel not telling us, Sarah?” My eyes bore into hers.

“I don’t know.” She was staring at the page, frozen in place. Bridget ran to the backroom.

“Anabel’s gone.” She shuffled around back there. “And so is the Book of Shadows.”

“I really don’t like this,” Sarah whined. She pulled her knees into her chest.

“Whether you like it or not, it seems like we’re part of it now. At least, Anabel seems to think so.” Bridget paced by the bookshelves.

“A part of what?” I asked her, desperate for answers.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” Sarah said quietly to herself. I felt the urge to scream. This was all too dramatic, and no one was telling me what the hell was going on.

“Believe what?” I hissed at her, standing. Sarah’s eyes followed my movement without seeing.

“The curse. It’s all real.” Bridget stilled as she faced me.

“The curse? Goody cursed Black Sam, not us. I’m not following.” An irrational amount of anger was coming to a boil inside of me.

“There is a part of it that we didn’t tell you. We didn’t want to scare you off – we only just met you. With curses that major, there’s always a mirror to them, a counter, a shadow. To keep things in balance.” Bridget pulled me back on the couch beside her.

“In this case, an enchantment.” Sarah held her forehead in her hands.

“Enchantments are good, right?” I was struggling to grasp the fact that this was a real conversation. Witchcraft, like candles and crystals, was one thing; but curses and enchantments were definitely not something I had ever fathomed.

Sarah sighed. “There’s a reason this matters to all of us.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, and my nerves prickled up my spine and neck. “Some say Goody not only cursed Sam, but once he discovers that his heart belongs to someone new, the original curse will be unleashed on a much larger scale. Anyone who could be a descendant of the drowned crew or the Salem Witches would all meet the same fate as Black Sam Bellamy, unless he is killed by the one he loves more than life itself.”

My brain hit a brick wall, and all logic escaped me. “You’re implying that Black Sam Bellamy is still alive . That’s impossible!” An energy buzzed inside of me, or was it the wine? “How do you even know all of this? Is everyone here on the island aware of all this?”

Sarah shook her head and lifted her eyes to meet mine. “We found Anabel’s Book of Shadows when we were nine and read the entire story.” She gestured between herself and Bridget. “The Morgan’s were one of the original Salem families. I have old witch blood,” said Sarah with a wink as she lifted her wine glass. “That’s why the story is in Anabel’s Book.”

“The families in the Bone Coven have kept long histories, passing their Book of Shadows down with each new generation,” Bridget explained.

“The Bone Coven? That sounds a bit sinister, don’t you think?” My defenses rose, as well as the hairs on the back of my neck.

“The name sounds a lot more badass than they actually were,” Sarah said with a mouthful of lukewarm pot pie. “Honestly, it’s a vibe. But it’s based on the origins of Aecor from the old stories. The Bone Coven had passive access to their Aecor. They just inherently had the ability to use what was inside of them.” She swallowed a second morsel.

“Are you implying there are other covens?” I asked. This new information was overwhelming, and a storm of conflict between all rationality and the fantasy of folklore brewed inside of my mind. My wine brain, however, was thirsty for more.

“There’s only one other kind.” Sarah's voice lost all its usual shimmer. Her face became grim, and she looked over to Bridget.

“There are witches that use blood magic, specifically sacrifices to expand their power for their spells and rituals. They are obsessed with Aecor and try to obtain its full potential by using blood.” Bridget paused when she saw the look on my face as nausea crept up from my knotted stomach. “The additional strength they get from blood magic depends on the size of the sacrifice. They can do anything from nicking a finger to killing birds, reptiles, mammals, fish, pretty much anything that bleeds.”

“That’s horrific.” I gasped. “Have you ever seen Blood Witches do this?” For some reason it made me think of the seagull that died at my door. The thin trail of blood…

“No. Blood magic has been nearly stomped out. The Bone Coven pretty much ran the world of witchcraft, so they sought to put an end to that practice generations ago,” assured Sarah.

“The Blood Coven, all the witches who need blood to access Aecor, tried to come back once,” Bridget solemnly said.

“So, they never really went away?” I hoped for them to tell me this was all a joke.

“Yes.” Sarah was somber. “Anabel doesn’t know much about it, but she says that in 1834, so like the fifth or sixth generation after the storm, the Blood Coven tried to manipulate the curse, seeking Black Sam Bellamy and his fated love—as if the Coven was raising up a new Messiah. They believed that once Sam was dead, they would be able to harness the Aecor of the curse and use it to their advantage. They aimed to unlock the ability to freely use their power without blood, but most importantly, they planned to obtain immortality. They think Sam is actually alive, somehow immortal due to the curse. When the Blood Coven was razed once again, the Bone Coven thrived, families grew, and some came here to the island. Though they didn’t show the same fervor as the Blood Coven, many believed the fairytale portion of the story. The Salem Witch falls in love with her Pirate. Most of those families are still here, like mine.”

“And mine, on both sides, the Silvers and the Burrows,” added Bridget.

“What? You’re a Burrows? My mom is a Burrows! Does that mean we’re second cousins or something?” I asked excitedly. “I told Anabel my mother’s name, but she never mentioned I might be related to anyone here!”

“You’re definitely related to someone here, at least distantly, but I’m a Burrows by marriage.” Bridget chuckled. Sarah finally perked up again, grinning widely.

“Wait a minute.” The truth hit me. “You said both sides. As in both sides are from Salem, as in the Burrows were a Salem family?”

“Raina, you’re one of us,” Bridget said softly, her face lit up. “A witch!”

“Well, at least by blood,” Sarah chimed in, confusing me further. I looked at her for clarification. “Bridget and I haven’t been able to do anything truly magical yet, and Anabel is no help.”

“Anabel acts like it’s all folklore. I don’t think she wants us practicing,” Bridget added with a nod.

“So then if you’ve never done magic, how do you even know it’s all real?” I was skeptical, and the truth was frightening. Of course, there were fleeting moments that stretched the limits of a mundane explanation, like when the wooden chest opened on its own, but had I really ever used magic in the corporeal sense? The girls just stared at me. “It’s all just an old story, right? Whatever we think might be happening has a normal, real, explanation. I’m sure.” Though, I couldn’t come up with anything. I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but nothing made better sense than what they said.

“But what if you’re her, Black Sam’s Salem witch?” Sarah pressed.

My mouth went dry as I felt the weight of what that could mean. “I don’t think you’re asking me the correct question.” My voice shook. I looked between the two of them. “Do we believe Black Sam Bellamy lives? That he has lived a cursed life every day since that nor’easter, three hundred years ago?” I would have laughed at the absurdity of it all, but the expressions on their straight faces made my insides feel like ice. “You do realize the implications of what you’re telling me, right? Curses, enchantments, blood magic, death, pain, torture…” I began to shake my head, desperately trying to clear away the chaos brewing.

“Sarah, stop. You’re scaring her away , and we just met her,” Bridget cautioned.

“I–I don’t think that’s necessarily true,” I interjected. “Well, when I met you both, I knew we had never gotten together before, but there’s more to it. Like, somehow, I knew we were supposed to be friends, that we were meant to be in each other’s lives.”

“That’s probably because our bloodlines are tied together through past covens,” Sarah said matter-of-factly. “Of Blood and Bone—our ancestors were connected, as we are now.”

Bridget just rolled her eyes and stood. “Rai, we really didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” Bridget apologized. “We’ve known about all of this for basically our entire lives, so it’s hard to recognize what’s too much to hear for the first time for someone else.” Bridget was more logical and sensible about things, especially compared to Sarah, who was sitting in the plush chair with her newly filled glass of wine, having emptied the bottle.

“Witchcraft alone doesn’t scare me, but being a Salem witch with real magic? Me? I’m not sure.” It all made me uneasy. Too much has happened in my life for me to believe in fairytales, and the line between dreams and reality was becoming incredibly blurred, so taking it all to heart and having faith in the credibility of such an old urban legend was definitely testing my ability to trust these two women.

“Yes, but it’s not what you think.” Bridget gazed into my eyes. “There’s no wand waving or anything theatrical, except on rare occasions. It’s about working with the relationship between all living things and communicating with your Aecor, which resides within.” She stopped when I made a face. “I know, it’s a lot. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not that. It’s just, I’ve seen The Craft, and this feels a lot like The Craft.”

“We’re gonna need another bottle if you’re going to compare our lives to that movie.” Sarah’s words came out like she spoke them in cursive, slurring the consonants. Bridget snorted through her nose , and I couldn’t help but laugh off some of the built-up tension.

“I got it.” Bridget walked to the backroom. A few seconds ticked by before she emerged with another bottle of wine and a sheet of paper. “It’s a note. From Anabel. I found it under the wine.”

“She knows us too well. Let me see it.” Sarah tried to stand but wobbled so badly that she fell back into her seat. Bridget handed her the note.

“ Girls.” She read aloud. “ I am writing this as open-hearted as I possibly can. The curse isn’t just a story. It is inevitable. This is no longer just a tale we tell our children at bedtime. It is a truth that has revealed itself now. It is up to the three of you to put things right, as you have been chosen. There is no saying what truly set these things in motion, or why they are happening now, during your generation. But we must face this. Be prepared for history to repeat itself. I am sorry I won’t be there, but I cannot stay. I will inform the others. There are more forces at play here, and we will not know who to trust. Take care—Anabel.” Sarah lowered the paper. Her eyes were lined with tears as she looked up at me and Bridget.

“The others?” I asked, having taken the paper and read through it myself. “Where?”

“Salem.” Bridget’s voice struggled to come out. “Boston. Cape Cod.” She took a deep breath. “I mean, we’re all over the place. We haven’t had any sort of structure or official coven in years. Anabel and her friends tried. Our grandparents dabbled, but the elders always stopped them before things got too serious.” I handed the note back to Bridget, who folded it. Securing the paper in a book on the counter, she turned to continue, “We’ve been taught since a young age that even though the Blood Coven sleeps, they’re always looking for the right moment to arise. And flaunting magic, being an outed witch…well, that paints quite a large target on any witch’s back.”

“Raina, our blood is the most potent. Aecor is rooted in our bones, flows through our veins, and once awakened, is stronger than any other.” Sarah sobered quickly.

“Why wouldn’t they have just hunted down all the families? You said many of you are still here.” I was missing something.

“ Once awakened . We don’t wield Aecor just by birth rite. There’s like a rite of passage, a ritual or something that needs to happen.” Sarah curled up into herself.

“No one has been successful in generations—at least, not in anyone’s memory. If the ritual was ever documented or written down, those pages are missing or omitted from each Book of Shadows that has been recovered. Preserving the family was more important than preserving our heritage and abilities. Too much blood had already been spilled.” Bridget gazed off into the void.

“And Anabel believes the curse has been awakened?” I probed; goosebumps spread across my skin. Sarah looked to Bridget who was shaking her head.

“That we have been awakened.”