Page 24 of Untraced Magic (Cutters Cove Witches #1)

Morgan

“Dear, how are you today?” Betty’s gaze drowned with concern, moving over me as if assessing for wounds. Her normally cheerful manner was a more subdued note today, her voice kind yet cautious.

We sat on a bench seat that rested alongside the river, watching as it meandered through town, in no hurry to reach the ocean. I knew Betty’s mention of a morning walk together was her way of trying to gauge how I felt about everything.

“I’m okay, I think…” I turned to meet her worried stare and gathered a breath of courage.

“I mean, it’s not every day you find out you’re a witch, the lady whose house you’ve just moved into is your grandmother, and that your birth parents may still be alive.

” I let out a light laugh; you couldn’t make this up if you tried.

Betty smoothed down the lavender dress she wore at the knees, shifting in her seat. “Ah yes, that is not to be expected in one’s life, let alone one day. I must say, you seem to be handling it okay?”

She inspected me closely, her scrutiny rushing over my skin. My head lifted to the sky, where a flock of birds flew above the trees in V formation .

I shrugged. “I guess it’s going to take some time to get used to, and to get to know you of course.”

Betty nodded. “Of course, my dear. These things will all take time. I’m just truly sorry about everything, but it was your father’s wishes, and as a mother, I couldn’t not do everything he needed to keep you safe.”

I knew she meant every word, a tension releasing from her frame as she spoke.

I veered my gaze back to hers. “What was my father like? Could you tell me about him?”

Her irises glistened at thoughts of her son, a smile wrinkling the corners of her eyes.

“Your father’s name is Gerald. He was a farmer, and a mighty good one too. He liked to live off the land where possible and had a marvelous eye when hunting.”

I listened with enthusiasm as Betty spoke about my father, about his kind and caring nature, her words sending a fuzzy feeling winding around my heart.

“I love hearing this; tell me more. What happened with my mother?”

Suddenly, her eyes dimmed, saddened.

Betty’s hand landed on my knee. “Morgan, you have to remember, your mother wasn’t well.

She had... severe lapses in time where she would just sit and stare at nothing in particular.

Then there were other times, when she…” Betty paused, collecting a breath.

“Your mother struggled with motherhood, my dear, it’s a big adjustment for anyone. ”

I frowned. “What did she do?”

A single tear slid down her cheek.

She drew in a harsh breath. “Your father found her one evening about to take her life. She was about to take both your lives, believed if she sacrificed herself and took you with her, that there was another world as she called it, waiting for her.”

I froze, and all that filled my ears was the continuous rhythm of my heart reminding me the story did not stop there. That I was well and truly alive.

I gulped down the wad of air lodged in my throat.

Betty continued. “Your father had her committed.”

Why would my father order Betty to take me away from him if my mother was locked up in an institution?

I clenched my hands together, knotting them between my thighs. “But...”

Betty’s hands gestured into the air. “ Somehow , Helena convinced the psychiatric hospital that she was of sound mind, and they let her go within a month. Soon after, she started asking questions about your father’s lineage, and the power passed down throughout generations that could possibly come to you. ”

Helena. My mother’s name is Helena.

“Between that, and this maddening talk of hers about this other world, he felt it was best to remove you from such an unstable situation. That is when he told me to leave and take you with me. He could not risk your safety, Morgan.”

I couldn’t form words. My mind a jumbled mess of new knowledge. I pulled my hands from between my thighs to find them clammy and pale. They were quickly scooped up and cradled between Betty’s own.

“You need to know that this was a tremendously difficult decision for your father. Believe me when I say it ripped his heart open to do so, but he had to. I’m so sorry Morgan, but it had to be.”

I nodded, blinking away tears that threatened to fall.

I stared into my grandmother’s weeping eyes.

“Where are they now?” I questioned, with unsteady breath.

Her lips pressed into a hard line. Her head dipping to our hands clutched together between us then returning to mine.

“I don’t know for certain, but my guess would be back at our family homestead, which is a two-day’s drive from here. I’m hoping to find someone who could check for us, as we can’t risk being seen ourselves.”

“Wow. This is all so hard to believe.” I mused.

“Well believe it my dear, it is all very real.” Wrinkles creased her forehead, as her expression hardened. “If your father was right, and you have been gifted obsidian magic, the threat to your life is very real, Morgan. You need to know that.”

I nodded in understanding, unease churning my stomach.

Betty shifted in her seat, giving me her full attention.

“When your magic comes to you, mine will also return to me. It is of utmost importance that you need to stay here, in Cutters Cove, until we can teach you everything there is to know about your gift. You are in the best place, surrounded by myself and your new group of friends to support you. ”

I felt the weight of the world lay heavy on my shoulders, shoveling me into the ground.

Had I suddenly become a liability to Tyler? To my friends? Was having this ‘gift’ as Betty mentioned putting everyone around me in danger also?

I let go of a steady breath. “I understand. Thank you for everything, Betty.”

“You are most welcome, dear. I know it wasn’t the most pleasant of chats, but now that we have that out of the way, I do hope things will be a lot more enjoyable .”

She gave a final squeeze of my hand before standing.

As we went our separate ways, I had the nagging urge to find out as much as I could about witches and their history. About covens. Anything that could give me a fighting chance at fending off anything that threatened myself or my friends. I knew just the place to start.

Determined to do some research of my own, I tugged my jacket tighter around me, heading in the direction of the library. I knew it was on the outskirts of Cutters Cove, on one of the quieter back roads according to the town map, and I didn’t mind the walk.

As it came into view, my gaze roamed over the building, a manor with walls of stone painted a regal cream.

Its surrounding grounds were immaculately landscaped, with boxed hedging and a large water fountain at its center.

A striking difference against the allure of the thick forest breaching its rear.

A wrought-iron balcony framed the second story above the entrance where I stood, a sign on the door reading ‘ Library . ’

I heaved my weight against it, moving it open, where instantly my senses became awash of aged tales buried within its walls for no doubt centuries. I loved libraries for their smell alone and inhaled its history as if it were the only thing I was to survive on.

“May I help you?” a male voice asked.

I nearly jumped a foot, my hand firmly planted on my chest, not expecting the voice that seemed to have come from nowhere.

Spinning on my heel, I found a striking set of dark eyes staring at me from behind a large desk. They had a familiarity about them I couldn’t place.

“Hi. I uh…”

Shit. How did I ask where the secret supernatural department was without actually asking the question?

My gaze flew around the library’s interior as I stared in wonder at the mahogany curves arching high into the ceiling. I felt the prickle of the librarian’s stare as he followed me, watching as I surveyed the shelves full of books lining the walls in every direction.

It was then I noted the lack of people around. Something about that gnawed at my sides.

I cleared my throat. “I’m looking for a book on the Salem Witch Trials, please. It’s for a history piece I’m doing for uni,” I added quickly, as if to justify myself.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. The angles cut into the stranger’s jaw twitched. His expression remained impassive, his gaze passing over me through a delicate set of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose .

He finally stood, motioning to the far corner of the impressive room, his footsteps steering us away from his desk. “This way.”

He slowed halfway along a wall, his finger skimming book spines until he plucked one out.

“I think this will do it. Let me help you check this out.”

His stare, cold and hollow, left mine as he retreated to the large mahogany desk before completing the process. As he passed the book to me, our fingers grazed as it slid between us, a bone-chilling cold jumping from his skin to mine.

I quickly pulled my hand away, sliding it into my over-the-shoulder bag. “Thanks.”

He stood again, pressing his hands into his pant pockets. “Let me know if it’s not quite what you’re after. There may be something else I can find.”

“I appreciate it,” I said, turning on my heel and heading for the door in the direction of home. A shiver ran down my spine as I looked back over my shoulder at the manor, wondering what exactly it was about the place that caused the unease inside of me to spike.

I welcomed the afternoon breeze as it purged the feeling from me.

When I got home, I sprawled on my bed, ready to learn as much as I could. The book was thick, but I was a fast reader. I would devour it in a week easily. Within the hour, I slapped the pages shut, horrid streams of images rifting through my thoughts.

Visions I couldn’t come to terms with, let alone grasp the concept that this was a sickening history of my kind. I couldn’t read any more, at least not now; its content had placed a foul taste in both my mood and mouth .