Chapter Twenty-Five

The Warren Estate, as it was called, stood just off McKelter Avenue. It took me only a few minutes to reach the house. In all the time I'd known Ethan, I'd never been to his house. It was an old colonial mansion that rivaled the beauty of the meeting hall. Tall white pillars and dark red brick shouted at the passerby to stand and stare in homage. The old structure had weathered the years and the Warrens had preserved the history of the house beautifully.

The door opened before I could knock. Old Man Warren, ninety if he was a day, stared down at me from under bushy eyebrows. He scowled, not at all pleased to see me on his doorstep. His wizened features were carved into a perpetual mask of grumpiness. His eyes, however, were the same steely shade of gray as Ethan's. The sparkle in them belied his grumpy exterior. Maybe he wasn't as upset as I thought.

"Hi, Mr. Warren." I gave him my best smile. "I'm..."

"I know who you are." He turned away and left the door open.

I frowned. Was that an invitation to come in?

"Well, git yourself in here, girl. You're lettin' out all the heat."

Okay, so it was an invitation. I stepped in and closed the door. He'd disappeared into the room off the entryway. With no other choice, I followed him. We were in a study or maybe a library. Books lined every wall and took up residence on any space that wasn't occupied. The furniture was all done in a deep mahogany wood and the couch and chairs were a light cream color. They looked softer than anything I'd ever seen. There was an ancient feeling to the room, like I'd stumbled into a gentleman's retreat from the olden days. I loved it.

As fascinated as I was, I didn't have time to admire the room. I needed to see Ethan.

"Is..." The photo on the mantle stopped me. I hurried over to look at it more closely. "Great Aunt Susan?" Shock sizzled through me. Why was there a picture of my aunt here?

The old man grinned and walked over to me. "Aye, 'tis her. She was a looker, Susan."

"But why do you have a picture of her?"

"I almost married her."

"What?"

"Don't sound so shocked girl," he laughed and settled himself onto the couch with a grunt. "We Warren men have been trying to capture a Bishop woman for ages."

"Why didn't you marry her?" Curiosity blazed through me.

He sighed heavily. "She and I didn't see eye to eye on the Coven. She was caught up in the foolishness of the past and I wanted to look forward into the future. We couldn't get past it and in the end and she ended up marrying Ben McKay. She died a few months later."

"You sound like you loved her a great deal." I took a seat beside of him. His eyes looked very sad as he remembered her.

"I knew I loved my Suzie the first time I laid eyes on her." He closed his eyes. "She meant everything to me."

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing you can do, girlie." He sat up. "I suppose you're here for the book."

"The book?"

His eyes turned sharper. "Your book, girl."

My eyes narrowed and a wave of rage swelled up again. It overpowered me. I got lost in it for a second. "YOU! YOU STOLE MY BOOK?"

He grinned. "You bet your ass I did, girlie. Did you want me to leave it there for those idiots to use against you?"

Use my own Book against me? No. That's not right. It wasn't my Book. I'd never even seen it. Why did I think it was mine? Why was I so possessive and where had this rage come from?

"I'm sorry, Mr. Warren," I told him. "I didn't mean to yell at you. I don't know what came over me."

"Perfectly normal reaction, girlie," he assured me. "It is your book. You know that deep down. The book chose you. It became a part of you when it did. That's why you're so angry about someone stealing it."

"It chose me?" I frowned. "How could it choose me? I've never even seen it."

His smile widened. "Course you have."

"I have?"

"Your Daddy, he brought you down to the meeting hall when you were round three or so. One of the Coven members had been looking something up and left it just lying there on the table. You wandered in and walked over to the book. I tried to grab you before you touched it, but I wasn't fast enough. As soon as you laid a hand on it, it grew. It held about four hundred and fifty pages or so, but it tripled in size. Damndest thing I ever saw."

"Tripled in size?" How was that possible?

"The book has secrets that she doesn't reveal to everyone. Only a few have been able to learn its secrets since we stole it from the bastards in Salem. I don't think anyone's ever been able to read all of it, except maybe Sara Bishop. She was the last true Coven leader we had."

Sara Bishop. I'd looked into her eyes, saw her lips move as she cried out her own spell. She was the last true Coven leader. Had she cursed the Book as well that night? Did she make sure no one could use it for purposes it wasn't meant for?

Jeff said I was born to be a true Coven leader. Is that why I felt like the Book was mine?

"But how did you steal it? Mr. Martin said no one but him or my dad could get past the wards."

"Them fools never suspected me," he laughed. "They think I'm just some grumpy old man that'll snap their heads off if they look at me wrong."

Well, I'd thought the same thing too. The thought of Old Man Warren stealing my Book had never occurred to me either. I really needed to pay more attention to detail.

"Can I see it?" I asked hesitantly. I wasn't sure I wanted to, but I needed to.

"Course, girlie. I kept it safe for you. I knew eventually the book would pull you here."

But it hadn't. I'd come looking for Ethan.

He went over to one of the bookshelves lining the walls and pulled out an old leather bound book. It was small and fragile and could have fit in my purse. This was the Book everyone was flipping out over? Including me? Ridiculous. The old man dropped the book into my hand and I very nearly threw it across the room.

The book heaved and groaned. It twisted and grew, doubling, tripling in size and length. The pages continued to swell in number. I gasped at the weight of it. After a moment it gave a final shudder and lay still upon my lap.

"You see, girlie, it does belong to you," Mr. Warren told me gently and helped me put the book on the table in front of me. "I seen what happened to it that day you touched it and fetched your Daddy. I don't think I've ever seen him look so scared in his life. He gave you over to me and soon as you was out of the room it shrank down to its normal size. We both understood who you were that day or rather who you would be."

"And just who am I?" I asked, never taking my eyes off the Book. My Book. A quiet peace settled over me. It was safe.

"Open it and find out."

I looked at him. He gave me an encouraging nod. What could happen?

Everyone who's ever opened Pandora's Box probably asked that same question.

My fingers lightly stoked the velvety softness of the book. It looked to be bound in leather, but felt like the soft fur on the underbelly of a bunny. It shivered under my touch, alive and breathing. A book couldn't be alive. Could it?

I opened it and stared at writing in a language I didn't know. I turned the pages and stared in amazement at the intricate drawings. Little notes were scribbled here and there. As the pages flew by, the writing changed and soon the entries were written in English. It must have been around the time Christianity was trying to stomp out Paganism. I remembered that from our history class. Ms. Ferguson had just started going over the rise of Christianity. The English language had started to become more dominant in that era.

The spells and potions listed were fantastic and terrifying, everything from soothing a headache to causing one's enemy to rot from the inside out. This was by far the most amazing thing I had ever seen in my entire life. Everything I could ever want to know was in here...except the curse. Emily had said she'd removed it. Then I remembered Mr. Martin saying something about checking it to make sure all the details were straight. Did they not know she'd destroyed the pages? I was betting no. He'd probably never even thought to check, seeing as how the entire town had been just as crazy as he was about the curse.

But there was something that might be in here.

"Show me Sara Bishop's last spell the night I watched her burn."

I heard Mr. Warren's shocked gasp, but paid him no heed. The book's pages fluttered and turned, coming to rest at last upon an empty page. Words inked themselves in as I watched.

Our Sara died last night. She could not stop George from cursing us all, but she did what she could to hinder him. Here lies her last words as shown to me in a vision.

"Daughter of Shadow, Daughter of Light

Born not as one, but as two, you will seek your path

Upon maturity

United, the curse fulfilled,

Divided, the curse shall fail.

Earth, Air, Fire, and Water I summon thee to do my bidding,

Spirit, rend her asunder so that what shall pass will

Forever be undone."

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."