Page 43 of The Book of Unwritten Stories

‘How do you know I’m an English woman?’

Morticia looked confused. ‘By your accent, it’s obvious you’re from England. What are you doing in Salem with a talking bird?’

Dora felt a little relieved the woman wasn’t referring to her surname, just her country of origin. ‘Well, I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing in Salem being so rude to my talking bird when he’s clearly trying to help you? And FYI I was born here and moved to the UK when I was a kid, so I am from here.’

‘Great, now we’ve established that you can turn around and leave me be.’

Dora wasn’t arguing with her. She turned to Hades and wagged her finger at him then walked away.

‘Hey, my name is Morana. You might want to remember that for future reference.’

Dora didn’t turn around or acknowledge her. Morana could go drown in the sea for all she cared. The rude, obnoxious woman had made it quite clear she didn’t need Dora’s help and that was fine by her.

THIRTY-FIVE

SALEM VILLAGE, 1676

The boy’s mother had made them welcome, and they had sat around by the campfire for some time before Lucine bade her farewell. Their parting gift was a crow with the softest, inky black feathers. He was beautiful and in a wooden cage, littered with berries. His small, black eyes never left Lucine and once they were a safe distance away from the camp she stopped and spoke to him.

‘I am going to set you free, bird. If you wish to follow me home then that is wonderful, but if you wish for your freedom that is wonderous too. ’Tis your choice. All I ask is that you do not fly near to the camp again and get captured. I would not want to upset the woman, but I see no need to keep you locked in a cage as such.’

The crow never looked away from Lucine and she smiled at it. ‘Now, what should we call you?’

She looked to John who was smiling at her. John was too obvious, but Hades was close to his surname and the bird looked as majestic as a Greek god of the underworld. She had learned about the Greek gods through a book that she had bought from a passenger off one of the boats that had docked near to the Turner-Ingersoll Mansion down by the wharf and thought they were wonderful.

‘I think Hades suits you and it also reminds me of you, John Hadden. When I speak his name, I will think of you and my heart will be happy.’

‘Until he flies away and you never see him again once you set him free.’

Lucine laughed. ‘If he does then so be it. I would not keep him caged this way. He is too beautiful not to be able to soar above the trees – and is that what is going to happen when you bid me farewell and leave this place? Will you be on your way with no further thought about me?’ She lifted the catch and opened the door for the bird who flew out, landing on the branch of a nearby tree.

John pulled Lucine close to him, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, and she could feel the heat through his linen shirt. The smell of soap, perspiration and the leather from the saddle made her heart beat even faster. He cupped her chin with his fingers, lifting her face so he was staring directly into her eyes.

‘If I must leave this place, but mark my word, I will be back for you, Lucine English, for you have stolen my heart. I will never rest until I have you in my arms. I am in love with you and I do not jest. I never thought I would love another woman, but you are the light to the darkness inside of my soul and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If I should die before we get to be together then know that I will find a way to watch over you, to be in your life for all of eternity.’

Lucine’s heart was fluttering wildly, as if someone had replaced it with the majestic wings of the crow who was watching their every movement. She laughed, then his lips were on hers and she tasted the salty sweetness of his breath as she lost herself to his kisses. Lucine knew they should stop, she was drowning in John Hadden’s arms, but she could not stop this if she wanted to. Her body was his for the taking, and as he lifted her into his arms and carried her into a thicket of trees, she could think of nothing else but how much she wanted this man to take her and never let her go.

THIRTY-SIX

SALEM, PRESENT DAY

Addison couldn’t concentrate and if she got one coffee order wrong, she got almost every other one too and the day never stopped. It was too hot in here, too many people snapping photos of the small, witchy coffee shop that served its coffee from a huge black cauldron. What the hell was wrong with Morana? That wasn’t like her at all. She was never mean to her for no good reason, and she hadn’t given her any reason to be earlier, had she? Not unless she was jealous of Tyler, the delivery guy who flirted with her every single time he made a delivery. He was not Addison’s type, but she found him funny and was flattered by his attention. Was that what was wrong with Morana? Good old-fashioned jealousy? She let the steam wand get too hot and the boiling milk frothed over the top of the milk jug, scalding the skin on her hand. The pain was so intense she threw down the milk jug with a very loud, ‘Ah, fuck.’

Tommy turned the machine off and dragged her out the back to the sink to run her hand under the cold water.

‘Ah, that hurts.’

‘What were you doing, Addison, trying to make the hottest coffee in the world?’

She laughed, despite the pain. Huge blisters were forming on the back of her hand and she felt sick.

‘You’re gonna have to go to the hospital.’

‘I can’t afford it.’

‘Work will pay; it’s an accident in work’s time.’

‘No they won’t when they look at the camera and see I wasn’t paying attention.’