Page 7 of The Redd Key (Bone Coven #1)

C andles flickered, and the room was silent. I looked from Sarah to Anabel and back again.

“You’re all cursed?” I didn’t know whether to take this claim seriously or not.

Sarah opened her mouth to speak, but Anabel jumped in. “Now, why would you go ahead and say something like that to scare her?”

“What?” Sarah threw her hands up in surrender. “How was I supposed to know that you hadn’t told her? You had the book out, Grams.” Sarah tilted her head toward the counter.

“Goodness, Sarah. You do love your drama,” Anabel tutted. “Don’t worry.” She turned her attention to me. “We’re not cursed. Not really.” My face must have shown my confusion because she quickly began explaining. “Just like any other old, small town, we have many urban legends told over generations. And one of them, one ,” she emphasized, “is about a curse. Sarah just gets too excited sometimes.” Anabel pursed her lips and playfully shook her head at Sarah.

“Oh, well, you’re right about that,” Sarah said as she sat and faced me, brushing off her grandmother’s annoyance. “It’s a pretty cool story, as far as curses go, but she’s not lying when she says we have a ton of urban legends.”

This news piqued my interest. I love a good spooky story, fairytale, or anything in that nature. “Tell me everything,” I said eagerly, and the energy that hung in the room responded, overcoming me as if in approval. Settling deeper into the couch, I tucked a foot under me to get more comfortable. I stared at them both in anticipation. They exchanged a look, and with a deep breath, Sarah launched into a story that began in 1715 near Cape Cod.

“So, there’s this guy, totally dreamy. Tall, dark, handsome…you know the deal. His name was Sam Bellamy, a sailor for the British Royal Navy who came from England to colonial Massachusetts. Then he met a girl…” Sarah pretended to swoon. “Goody Hallett is said to have been stunning. Blonde hair, blue eyes, total Colonial Barbie vibes. They were furiously in love. But as in any juicy romance, there was a problem.” She paused for dramatic value. I could almost feel Anabel’s eye roll at her antics, but I was thoroughly enjoying the theatrics. “He was poor, she was wealthy, and her daddy refused to give his blessing.” Typical. “In order to gain his fortune, he ditched the Navy and turned to piracy. Before he left for the seas, he promised Goody,” she feigned a deep voice as if she were Sam Bellamy, “‘When I return, I will be the richest man with the richest heart once you marry me,’ or something like that…I would imagine.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“So, he became a pirate to impress a girl?” I frowned.

“Yes!” Sarah beamed. The phone suddenly rang and interrupted Sarah’s storytelling. Anabel took the call in the room behind the curtain. Shortly after, there was the sound of running water.

“And did that work?” I asked dubiously.

“Yes! He pillaged and plundered everywhere from here to Jamaica and anywhere in between or beyond. He took over the Whydah Gally to lead his fleet. In less than two years he became the richest pirate known to this day. He was even besties with Blackbeard.” She raised a brow, nodding with impressed approval.

“All of that’s real? That really happened?” My fingers itched to fact-check on my phone.

“Of course, but so much more happened.” She wiggled in her seat, giddy that she grabbed my attention. Her curls shook around her face as she got herself back on track. “There was a major problem, though. When he left to go pillage and plunder, he didn’t realize he left Goody with something after their trysts, if you know what I mean,” she hinted, nudging my elbow. “The stories claim she gave birth to a black-haired babe while Black Sam Bellamy was away at sea. Back then, an unwed woman with a bastard child was completely unethical. After Sam sailed away, it’s said that Goody married someone else, and so when the news of her growing belly spread, she was jailed for adultery. That’s not even the worst of it.”

“Don’t tell me she gave birth in jail,” I breathed.

Sarah shook her head disappointedly. “Her baby died the night he was born.” I gasped at this fact and felt like I got punched in the chest. “And because of the times, the townsfolk accused her of being a witch. So, not only was she imprisoned for adultery, but she was also persecuted for killing her baby with witchcraft. After escaping the jail multiple times, the townsfolk eventually exiled her.”

The air in my chest felt stale and dry like dust. “That poor woman.” I was left speechless by the story’s horrors.

“In 1717, from her cottage on the beach, she watched as Black Sam Bellamy and his fleet approached the Cape as they finally returned home. Legend says Goody was seen screaming his name against the intensifying gale force winds from a Nor’easter that blew in from seemingly nowhere. Waves swelled, lightning, rain…it was treacherous.” Sarah was talking with her hands, mimicking the movements of waves. “The Whydah and the rest of the vessels in the bay were tossed around like ragdolls, eventually sinking or being too damaged to sail away. But Black Sam went down with his ship, pulled under the raging sea with the largest known pirate treasure in history.” Sarah lowered her head. “Over one hundred and twenty bodies washed ashore.” Glancing upwards, she added, “Sam’s body wasn’t among them.”

Chills. Literal goosebumps broke out on my arms, and I rubbed them away.

“That’s not all, though,” Sarah smirked.

“There’s more?" My head started to spin from all the twists and turns of the story.

“So much more.” She was smiling widely now. “There’s some speculation about our girl, Goody Hallett. Like I said, she was from a wealthy family. They were pretty well known, but she hasn’t become so prolific to be called ‘Wealthy Goody Hallett,’ nope! She is known as ‘The Witch of Wellfleet’.”

“The witch of what?” I tilted my head to the side. After a moment, the revelation hit me, and my eyes grew wide. “Wait! A witch? She was actually a witch?”

Sarah slowly nodded and bit her lip. “Maybe! As I said before, there are many urban legends about Sam and Goody. In my favorite version of the story, she is a witch. But remember, tragically, her newborn passed away. Accounts tell us that she and the babe were asleep in the barn on a haystack. The baby unfortunately choked on a bit of straw, which lodged in his throat. Since SIDS wasn’t a thing back then, the villagers accused her of witchcraft, leading to her persecution.”

“That’s unbelievable. That can’t be true.” I shook my head. “That makes me so angry for her.”

“I know. That’s why I prefer a slightly different version that has been told over the centuries.” She took a deep breath. “This is where the story gets good.” Sarah wiggled to get more comfortable, and I turned to square off to her.

“Now, it’s going to get good? This is already unbelievable,” I snorted.

With a flick of a brow, Sarah continued, “The story goes that when she was screaming Sam’s name against the wind, she was actually calling the nor’easter in – that she conjured the storm with her magic, or what they call Aecor . She was so angry with him for leaving her all alone, ostracizing her as an adulteress with child. The shame and heartbreak hurt her so badly that she used her child as leverage, sacrificing the baby to unleash magic strong enough to command the sky and the sea. That she wasn’t yelling from the shoreline for her love to return, but instead, she was cursing his name for all eternity.”

“I mean, I get where she’s coming from. Dude bounced, knowing she was having his baby. That is pretty shitty.” My nose scrunched at Sam’s gross behavior. The story was intense, and I felt for Goody. In both versions of the story.

“Right? Like, same girl, I’d also curse his entire existence if he left me like that.”

Anabel walked in with a refreshed tea tray, now holding four teacups.

“Is B coming?” Sarah asked.

“Yes. She knew right away that you were back.” Anabel softly chuckled. I wondered who B was. “Have you gotten to the part where you believe we’re all now cursed?” Sarah vigorously shook her head in response, her curls going wild.

“How can there possibly be more to this story?” I asked, smiling into my cup.

“There’s always more tea,” Sarah smirked. The pun was not lost on me.

Bells gently jingled as the door of The Wicker Basket opened. Surprised, I recognized the same blonde woman from this morning as she walked in, still wearing her dark green scrubs. Taking three quick steps inside, she smiled at her friends and then hesitated when she noticed me.

“B!” Sarah jumped up and hugged the woman, who stiffened. Sarah must have noticed because she quickly said, “This is Raina, she’s new here!”

“I know,” is all B said in a curt tone.

“Ok?” Sarah looked at the two of us confused.

“We ran into each other this morning,” I offered. “Well, actually, she and my brother literally ran into each other.” I laughed at the memory.

B’s green eyes widened as she mouthed, “ Oh.” Finally relaxing her shoulders and grinning, she asked, “That was your brother?”

“Jeff, yes. My stepfather and younger brother moved here, too. They’re over on Mapleshade, but I got my own place here, downtown.

“Nice. Well, welcome!” B sat on a cushion she had placed on the floor and picked up her teacup. “I’m Bridget,” she said, officially introducing herself as Anabel once again disappeared into the back room.

“Raina.” I nodded to her.

“Cool. So , can I get on with the story?” Sarah urged impatiently. After an inquisitive look from Bridget, Sarah added, “I’m telling her about the curse.” I expected Bridget to roll her eyes, but instead, she lit up and leaned in.

“This is your first time hearing it all?” B asked curiously. I nodded.

“K, so moving on,” Sarah raised her brows at us, and I stifled laughter. “The lore suggests that Black Sam Bellamy wasn’t actually on the Whydah as it sank – that he either escaped or wasn’t even on the ship in the first place.” Her eyes widened. “To remind you, his body wasn’t recovered. Ever.” Sarah looked between me and Bridget. “Goody Hallett cursed him, using their child’s blood to empower the spell. She cursed Sam to drown for all eternity, for him to physically suffer every day of his immortal life. He left her heart to agonize when he abandoned her. In return, he got all-consuming, suffocating pain. Every day. Forever.” She punctuated each word with a nod of her head. I sipped my tea, absorbing every remark, trying to figure out how one would drown daily. Before I could work out the logistics, Sarah continued. “And he will only find solace, the salvation of death, when he gives his heart to someone new. He has to fall in love, the storybook kind, where your heart rushes and pounds against your chest, where you would die for them. That kind of love. Only then, the person he loves with his entire being can end his suffering. By killing him.” She sat back against the cushions.

“So, because he left her, she cursed him with excruciating immortality? To drown every day?” I was in awe. “Wow. Asshole got what he deserved, though.”

“I agree,” Bridget said before drinking her tea. She grabbed a cookie from the tray and took a bite. “The moment he finds love again; he finally gets to die. I guess it makes sense.” She shrugged, her moonlight hair falling over her shoulder.

“Isn’t it so romantic? ” Sarah clutched her heart.

“No, not really,” I grimaced. “Don’t get me wrong, I love a good revenge story. But what about the person he falls in love with? What happens to them?” They both looked at me.

“Huh.” Sarah tilted her head. “I never really thought about that. That is quite tragic, isn’t it?” Her face fell after realizing her favorite urban legend was just embedded with pain.

“Yeah…that never occurred to me either. I guess they either have to watch him drown over and over again or just kill him. I don’t know which would be worse,” said Bridget. “Drowning can’t be easy to witness.”

Cold crept up my neck, but a jarring question fought to the surface. “Wait.” I furrowed my brow and put my hands up. “This happened on Cape Cod? What does any of this have to do with Redd Hills? Maine isn’t that close to Massachusetts.”

“Good point.” Sarah shoved a cookie in her mouth. “So, Sam Bellamy had a home port near here. Many of his surviving crew members came to live on this island after his fleet dispersed and built their families and entire lives here. This was where many assumed Sam had escaped to. Though, no one on Redd Hills Island has ever claimed to have seen him before.”

“I like to imagine he’s out there looking for his Salem Witch,” Bridget chimed, raising her cup. “A ton of Salem families moved here along with Sam’s crew.”

“Maybe it’s one of us,” Sarah suggested, cocking her head and taking a sip. Then she and Bridget turned to face me. “Where are you from, anyway?”

“Massachusetts,” I said slowly. Their eyes widened.

“Where in Massachusetts?” asked Sarah, her eyes blazing.

“Are you—”Bridget began to ask.

“A witch?” Sarah finished. Feeling like I was suddenly in the hot seat, I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.

“ I—I don’t know, I mean, I don’t think so?” I tried to explain. “Maybe, but…what exactly do you mean by witch?”

“I mean, this.” Sarah gestured to the entire shop. All the bottles, jars, stones, and candles. She swept a hand toward the shelves stacked with volumes of spellbooks and such.

“Sure…basically…yes. I guess I am a witch.” I wasn’t sure why it was hard to say that aloud. Growing up, I pretended to create spells and potions. Sometimes, the spells and potions worked, but most times, they didn’t do anything. During the new moon, I’d set intentions and do burning rituals under the full moon. I would try to manifest my goals, put in the hard work, and use crystals for guidance and strength. Often, I would do a tarot spread to help decipher some tough questions life throws my way. But labeling myself a witch? That was a hard pill to swallow.

“Have you found your family’s Book of Shadows yet?” Bridget asked matter-of-factly.

“My family’s what?”

“Book of Shadows, like the one Anabel had out before,” Sarah explained.

“I didn’t realize that thing had a name.” I looked over toward the empty countertop.

“Most of the families from Salem, or nearby, have a similar book that is passed down with each generation. I thought, maybe you had already found yours. It feels like you have,” Bridget said.

“Like I’ve found my family’s Spell Book?” I asked, utterly unsure of if they were serious or just messing with the new girl in town. Suddenly, I felt very vulnerable.

Sarah reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “I’m sorry. Bridget forgets how it makes people feel when she’s too blunt sometimes.”

“I’m not going to beat around the bush. Raina, you give off witchy vibes.” Bridget placed her cup down on the tray. “What?” she responded to Sarah’s “ WTF ” face. “She does.” Bridget shrugged.

Sarah shifted in her seat and bit her lip. “I really don’t want to scare you off. However, the thing is, I also sensed your aura as soon as I walked into the shop earlier. Did you feel anything?”

I knew exactly what Sarah and Bridget were talking about. Whether I wanted to believe it or not, I wasn’t sure. My mind rewound the last couple of hours, and I recalled that sense of approval from the shop’s walls around me. This space responded to my thinking, to my emotions; it wasn’t the first time I felt such a thing on this island. I was reminded of standing in front of my mother’s childhood home this morning. On Mapleshade, right before searching for the cove, I felt similarly—like I was ignoring what was right in front of me. Willfully blind.

The cove. I had forgotten, just for a moment, that I had in fact found the exact place I dreamt about—the knowing feeling I had when searching for its location. The way my nerves stilled and my mind calmed when I set out to find the unknown place. Deep in my core, I knew what had always been there, just beneath the surface.

“I am a witch, aren’t I?” I searched their eyes and saw the truth.