thinking all I have to do is lower my guard, focus my quantum remote, and touch them for their entire life story to be revealed, but figuring I should at least try to get their version first.
“A long time ago,” she starts, peering at her disapproving sister before taking a deep breath and forging ahead. “A very long time ago, in fact, we were facing a—” She squinches her brow, searching for just the right word, nodding at me when she says, “Well, let’s just say we were about to become victims of a terribly dark event, one of the most shameful times in our history, but we escaped by fleeing to Summerland. And then, well, I guess we lost track of time and we’ve been there ever since. Or at least until last week when we came to help you.”
Rayne groans, dropping to the floor and burying her face in her hands, but Romy just ignores her, still looking at me when she says, “But now our worst fear has come true. Our magick is gone, we’ve nowhere to go, and no idea how to survive in this place.”
“What sort of persecution did you flee?” I ask, watching her closely, searching for clues. “And how long ago is very long ago ? Just what are we dealing with here?” Wondering if their history stretches as far back as Damen’s, or if they belong to a more recent past.
They gaze at each other, communicating a wordless agreement that shuts me right out. So I move toward Romy, grasping her hand so quickly she has no time to react. Immediately pulled into her mind—her world— seeing the story unfold as though I’m right there. Standing on the sidelines, an unnoticed observer, fully immersed in the chaos and fear of that day, witness to images so horrible I’m tempted to turn away.
Watching as an angry mob swarms their home, voices raised—torches high—their aunt barring the door as best she can, making the portal and urging the twins toward the safety of Summerland.
Just about to step through the portal and join them when the door gives way and the twins disappear. Separated from everything they once knew, having no idea what became of their aunt until a visit to the Great Halls of Learning showed them the torturous trial of false accusations she was forced to endure. Refusing to confess to any kind of sorcery, having taken the Wiccan Rede of “ An it harm none, do what ye will ,” and knowing she’d done nothing wrong, she rebuffed her oppressor and held her head high—all the way to the gallows where she was brutally hung.
I stagger back, fingers seeking the amulet just under my tee, something about their aunt’s gaze so eerily familiar, leaving me shaky, unsettled, reminding myself that I’m safe, they’re safe—that things like that don’t happen these days.
“So now you know.” Romy shrugs as Rayne shakes her head. “Our whole story. Everything about us. Do you blame us for choosing to hide?”
I glance between them, unsure what to say. “I—” I clear my throat and start over. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” I glance at Rayne, seeing how she refuses to look at me, then over at Romy who solemnly bows her head. “I had no idea you guys escaped the Salem Witch Trials .”
“Not exactly,” Rayne says, before Romy chimes in.
“What she means is we were never tried. Our aunt stood accused. One day she was revered as the most sought-after midwife, and the next, she was rounded up and taken away.” She sucks in her breath, eyes welling up as though it were yesterday.
“We would’ve gone with her, we had nothing to hide,” Rayne says, lifting her chin and narrowing her gaze. “And it certainly wasn’t Clara’s fault that poor baby died. It’s the father who did it. He didn’t want the baby or its mother. So he did away with them both and blamed Clara. Crying witch so loud the entire town heard—but then Clara made the portal, and forced us to hide, and she was just about to join us when—well, you know the rest.”
“But that was over three hundred years ago!” I
“A long time ago,” she starts, peering at her disapproving sister before taking a deep breath and forging ahead. “A very long time ago, in fact, we were facing a—” She squinches her brow, searching for just the right word, nodding at me when she says, “Well, let’s just say we were about to become victims of a terribly dark event, one of the most shameful times in our history, but we escaped by fleeing to Summerland. And then, well, I guess we lost track of time and we’ve been there ever since. Or at least until last week when we came to help you.”
Rayne groans, dropping to the floor and burying her face in her hands, but Romy just ignores her, still looking at me when she says, “But now our worst fear has come true. Our magick is gone, we’ve nowhere to go, and no idea how to survive in this place.”
“What sort of persecution did you flee?” I ask, watching her closely, searching for clues. “And how long ago is very long ago ? Just what are we dealing with here?” Wondering if their history stretches as far back as Damen’s, or if they belong to a more recent past.
They gaze at each other, communicating a wordless agreement that shuts me right out. So I move toward Romy, grasping her hand so quickly she has no time to react. Immediately pulled into her mind—her world— seeing the story unfold as though I’m right there. Standing on the sidelines, an unnoticed observer, fully immersed in the chaos and fear of that day, witness to images so horrible I’m tempted to turn away.
Watching as an angry mob swarms their home, voices raised—torches high—their aunt barring the door as best she can, making the portal and urging the twins toward the safety of Summerland.
Just about to step through the portal and join them when the door gives way and the twins disappear. Separated from everything they once knew, having no idea what became of their aunt until a visit to the Great Halls of Learning showed them the torturous trial of false accusations she was forced to endure. Refusing to confess to any kind of sorcery, having taken the Wiccan Rede of “ An it harm none, do what ye will ,” and knowing she’d done nothing wrong, she rebuffed her oppressor and held her head high—all the way to the gallows where she was brutally hung.
I stagger back, fingers seeking the amulet just under my tee, something about their aunt’s gaze so eerily familiar, leaving me shaky, unsettled, reminding myself that I’m safe, they’re safe—that things like that don’t happen these days.
“So now you know.” Romy shrugs as Rayne shakes her head. “Our whole story. Everything about us. Do you blame us for choosing to hide?”
I glance between them, unsure what to say. “I—” I clear my throat and start over. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” I glance at Rayne, seeing how she refuses to look at me, then over at Romy who solemnly bows her head. “I had no idea you guys escaped the Salem Witch Trials .”
“Not exactly,” Rayne says, before Romy chimes in.
“What she means is we were never tried. Our aunt stood accused. One day she was revered as the most sought-after midwife, and the next, she was rounded up and taken away.” She sucks in her breath, eyes welling up as though it were yesterday.
“We would’ve gone with her, we had nothing to hide,” Rayne says, lifting her chin and narrowing her gaze. “And it certainly wasn’t Clara’s fault that poor baby died. It’s the father who did it. He didn’t want the baby or its mother. So he did away with them both and blamed Clara. Crying witch so loud the entire town heard—but then Clara made the portal, and forced us to hide, and she was just about to join us when—well, you know the rest.”
“But that was over three hundred years ago!” I
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