Page 59 of The Book of Unwritten Stories

Out in the hall the smell of fresh paint filled the stairwell. Contractors were already working on Mrs Danby’s apartment which meant the woman wasn’t coming back here when she was able to leave the hospital. The door wide open, it was empty and a radio was blaring while they worked. She should have felt happy about this, but instead Morana swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed open the door to outside, stepping into the cool, fresh autumn air.

* * *

Enchanted was still closed and she wondered if all else failed if Ethan could help her. He seemed like an okay guy and knew his stuff too, but it wouldn’t be fair to drag him into this as she was terrified of hurting anyone else. Dora, she thought, could probably handle herself; after all she was a witch, wasn’t she? And as Hades had said, she was her sister.

Morana headed towards Essex Street, which was starting to fill with tourists. Once it got in full swing, she wouldn’t be able to see anyone except maybe the street buskers. She headed towards the scene of Addison’s accident, where that nice lady had tried to help her. Dora had a look of her; they could be related. She kept her head down and hurried towards the junction that was opposite the Witch House. There was nothing to suggest that there had been a fatal accident there yesterday except for a dark stain on the tarmac and a bunch of flowers. Morana stared. She hadn’t even brought flowers for her friend.

‘I’m really sorry about your friend.’

She turned around, shocked to see Dora standing behind her. She had gone out searching for the woman and it was she who had found her.

‘Thanks, it’s kind of hard to believe. I feel as if I’m living some kind of bad dream.’

‘Yeah, I know how that feels.’

‘Why? Did you have a friend get killed because you were thinking bad thoughts?’ Morana tried not to sound such a bitch, but it was hard.

‘She didn’t die, no, but my best friend, Katie, almost died because a very bad man who was looking for me beat the crap out of her, to get her to tell him where I was. Look, do you want to grab a coffee or something? Blackcraft is just down there.’

Morana shook her head violently. ‘Addi worked there.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. What about Gulu-Gulu?’

Morana smiled. ‘You want to wait in line for a table?’

‘I’m not doing anything else, are you?’

‘I guess not.’

They turned and walked back down to the square where the Samantha from Bewitched statue was and joined the queue for the café, which wasn’t very long. There were only two people in front of them, and before she knew it, they were being shown to a table in the corner by the window that looked out onto the street.

When the waitress brought their coffees, Dora asked Morana, ‘Did you wonder why your name was in that book, or do you know?’

Morana stirred her cappuccino slowly. ‘I have no idea. Why, do you?’

‘I have thoughts.’

‘Do you want to share them?’ Morana smiled at her and Dora grinned back.

‘I will, but they sound crazy and I need you to know that I am not as mad as what I’m about to tell you sounds. Don’t get me wrong, one lifetime it sent me completely insane and, apparently, I got put into a mental asylum in Edinburgh that my aunt Lenny had to break me out of, so yeah, I’ve been through it. Not this lifetime though and not yet.’

Morana’s jaw was slack. She had her cup in her hand, but it was frozen mid-air as she stared at Dora. She put the cup down. ‘Excuse me? You said, “this lifetime”. What do you mean?’

Dora stared out of the window and smiled. Morana looked too and saw a black crow hopping around on the ledge. ‘Is that…?’

‘Yes, he is so nosy. I’m surprised he hasn’t come inside.’

Morana laughed. ‘I like him though. He’s a good bird. God, I can’t believe I’m saying that. Now who sounds crazy?’

‘Both of us. Yes, so here goes, don’t judge me until you’ve heard the full story, okay?’

‘I’ll try.’

Dora sipped her latte before starting to speak, her voice barely a whisper. ‘I am a bloodline witch, I come from a family of witches, and we were first killed in 1692.’

Morana’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re screwing with me, the witch trials were in 1692, but no witches were ever hanged.’

‘That’s right, all those accused were totally innocent and definitely not witches, it was all a pack of lies made up by those wicked girls for entertainment.. Maybe except for when it came to us English women, we didn’t know back then that we were witches, it’s complicated. We were healers, my mom got herself into trouble with a guy who gave her a magical spell book that changed everything, but we still didn’t know just how much back then. When we were hanged it was because the sheriff – Corwin – had a crush on my aunt Lenny and she wasn’t impressed and a little, actually a lot, outspoken for the Puritans.’