Page 32 of Wandering Witch

The room before us looked like it once served as a study and the hawk motif was everywhere. Bookcases lined the bulk of two walls, with a space left for a large fireplace. The third wall held a massive window and an equally massive desk placed directly in the center. Sitting on the desk, waiting for its owner to return, was an old piece of parchment.

Curiosity flooded me as I made my way across the room to slide into the dusty chair in front of the desk. With shaky hands, I picked up the parchment that looked like a letter now that I was close enough to see the writing.

My dearest Desi,

I’m afraid that I have made a great mistake, one that you might have to pay for in my stead. Something is coming and although your aunt tries to assure me that everything will work out just fine, doubt fills me.

I pray that someday you will find it in your heart to forgive my cowardice. I know that we all had hoped that this would be the home we longed for, but some things were just never meant to be.

Just know that you will always be in my heart, my precious niece, even if I am not around. Even if my fear forces me to do something regretful.

Love always,

Your uncle,

Peregrin.

I read and reread the words several times before I dropped the letter back on the desk and slumped in the chair. Roan waited until I was done before he looked over to read the letter for himself.

“Ro?” my voice was shaky.

“Yes?”

“That ancestor who ran? Her name was Destiny ‘Desi’ Hawkins.”

Farren

Imust have just sat in that chair for hours. Or at least, that’s what it felt like as Roan hummed at my revelation and backed off to give me some space. I was only faintly aware of him moving around the room, inspecting everything, but my mind was still firmly wrapped in what the letter had said.

This, Peregrin Hawkins, claimed to be aware of the curse, and he made it appear that he knew of a time before it was cast. But how could that be? Was he the first victim?

I needed more information, and clearly, this town had a very good chance of having the answers. Surging to my feet, I folded and tucked the letter away into my bra and left the room.

Roan called me after I got about halfway down the hall, and I just called back to him over my shoulder.

“I need more information, Ro. Maybe there’s an archive still standing!” I pushed open the main door of the house and saw the other two guys standing guard. “Let’s go. I think I got our first clue.”

Hope filled me for the first time in forever. Maybe there really was an end in sight?

“Really? What’s the clue?” Benny asked, and I nervously handed him the letter. He read it over a few times before returning it. “This certainly does sound like it could be the start of something. Not much information to go on though, I’m afraid.”

I deflated a little at his words. I truly had thought this was a key piece of information in the breaking of my curse. Why can’t any of this be easy?

Off in the distance, thunder roared, and we all turned in that direction. The sky was clear, and the air was calm, but something was whipping the trees into a frenzy. Locke rose with his hackles high and low warning growls in his throat.

With gentle jaws, he wrapped his mouth around my arm and tried to pull me away. When the wind kicked up, it brought a very familiar darkness with it, one that I hadn’t really felt since I first met my Portlocke.

“It’s the curse. It’s here,” I whispered. Dread filled my very being as I saw the beginnings of the darkness rise above the shattered treeline. “We need to hurry. Maybe to the town hall?”

At my words, the other two scrambled to push me along with Locke towards the largest building in the center of the town.

Inside, everything seemed to be crumbling around us, and my chest deflated as the winds whipped at the world outside. Benny moved around me to grab my other arm and pulled me to the back of the building and into a small office.

There in the middle of the room was another desk, but this one had an old journal in the center. Something about the book called to me and before I could stop myself, I reached out and picked it up.

The writing looked familiar and as I looked at it, I realized it was almost identical to the journal I kept with my family history. But I was confused when I opened it up and saw it was dated August 20th, 1774.

Finally. It took me several years of tracking scraps of information and hearsay, but I’ve finally made it back to the place where the curse was started.

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