by HR Mason
Blurb
A family tree steeped in mystery. A new town filled with old secrets. One woman is determined to uncover the truth about her past, but Everwine Manor won’t easily give up the truth.
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Runa Brandon is naïve and uncertain, and she has been taken advantage of more than once. After disentangling herself from an abusive relationship, Runa begins a new life in Departure Cove, Oregon. Her mother, Asta, believes Departure Cove holds too many secrets that are better left buried, including the identity of Runa’s father.
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When Runa arrives in Departure Cove, strange things begin to happen. She experiences frightening visions, disturbing dreams, and unexplained physical changes. Then Runa meets Chase Everwine, a wealthy, mysterious man who pursues Runa with a passion that sweeps her off her feet.
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Runa falls hard for Chase, in spite of Asta’s warnings that his family cannot be trusted. Secrets and puzzles follow in Chase’s wake, and when Runa sees his family’s estate, Everwine Manor, she feels drawn to it. She doesn’t understand why the house calls to her but is compelled to find out.
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What Runa doesn’t know is that she is part of a long line of women, blessed with inexplicable gifts, and drawn to the power of the sea. As Runa uncovers the astounding secrets of her family tree, she also comes to realize there is more to her husband than meets the eye.
Daughters of the Sea
HR Mason
Also by HR Mason
Nothing Hidden Ever Stays
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Writing as Heidi Renee Mason
The Vows Trology
To Have and To Hold
For Better or For Worse
’Til Death Do Us Part
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Sweet Escape Series
Love At First Crepe
Just Double the Recipe
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Stand Alone
Always Hope
Daughters of the Sea © 2021 by HR Mason
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
Daughters of the Sea is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
For information, contact the publisher, Tangled Tree Publishing.
www.tangledtreepublishing.com
Editing: Hot Tree Editing
Cover Designer: BookSmith Design
E-book ISBN: 978-1-922359-46-9
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-922359-47-6
Hardback ISBN: 978-1-922359-74-2
This book is dedicated to all the women in my family, both past and present. Thank you for passing along your strength and wisdom. As always, this is for my daughters and husband. You’re my inspiration.
Contents
A Note from the Author
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Epilogue
About the Author
Acknowledgments
About the Publisher
Also by HR Mason
“When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?”
–William Shakespeare, Macbeth
A Note from the Author
Did you know that most of my story ideas begin with a question? Often, I don’t even realize I’ve asked the question until I start looking for the answer. Once I begin digging, it’s only a matter of time before the real story surfaces and the characters begin to speak to me.
When I began writing Daughters of the Sea, I started out on an entirely different path from where I eventually ended up. I’ve always been a bit obsessed with Salem, Massachusetts, and witches. The idea that so many people could be wrongfully accused and put to death without any real concrete evidence has always blown my mind. I wanted to write something that had to do with history, because I adore historical research, but I wanted to throw in a bit of the supernatural as well. Salem and witches seemed to be the perfect fit.
I began digging into witch trials, and I was shocked at all the details that came up in my search. Witch hunting was so much broader and much more widespread than I had ever realized. It went far beyond Salem and happened much earlier in other parts of the world. About that same time, I was also digging into my own family history, and I had just come across a connection to my Norwegian heritage. It was the perfect storm for two of my passions—history and genealogy—to collide.
As I was searching, I learned about a witch trial in Norway, and the details wouldn’t leave me alone. Given my newly discovered family connections to the country, I was intrigued. I began reading, and what I found was shocking. In the remote region of Troms og Finnmark, in northern Norway, lies a coastal village called Vardø, with the catchy moniker “Witch Capital of Norway.” Needless to say, I was hooked.
Between 1593-1692, there were more than 140 witch trials in this small community. Ninety-one people were found guilty of witchcraft and executed. While that number might not sound like much, given the fact that the area is sparsely populated, it is an astronomically high number. They even have a monument, The Steilneset Memorial, which was constructed 348 years after the trials as a way to commemorate the horrible events.
As I began to read about the trials, my first thoughts were ones of anger and sadness. It seems unthinkable that so many innocent people were condemned and executed. I tried to imagine what it would have been like to live in that village, waking up in fear every day that you might be the next one who was accused. It must have been such a feeling of helplessness, especially for the women of Vardø, who made up the vast majority of those accused and condemned.
Then another thought popped into my brain—what if you were a woman who actually was different? What if you were a woman who had some kind of power that you couldn’t explain? What if all the women in your family had the same power? That would certainly be a death sentence. What would you do to survive?
Daughters of the Sea was born from my research and endless questioning. It blends the h
istorical with the supernatural in a way that I hope you’ll love. Perhaps it will leave you with some lingering questions of your own. Maybe someday I will still write that book about Salem witches, but for now, I give you the Norwegian ones.
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HR Mason
Prologue
Vardø, Norway, Winter 1621
Helga ran, her lungs exploding with pain. The frigid air nipped at her cheeks and sliced razor blades into her feet, cutting straight through the soles of her leather boots. Not daring to stop for even a second, she ventured a furtive glance behind her. Relief flooded her upon realizing she had momentarily escaped the band of angry men in her wake.
Ducking behind an abandoned barn, Helga plastered her small body against the splintered wood. Struggling to catch her breath, she gazed across the field of snow-covered ice. The bitter howling wind of the Barents Sea scattered snowflakes all around, the flurries obscuring her vision. She listened as the waves crashed in the distance, pounding against the rocks along the rugged shore. Her home, Vardø, felt cut off from the rest of the world.
The steady rhythm of the ocean hummed in every cell of her body. She breathed in the salty air and worked to calm her pounding heart. The village had always been her safe haven, and until recently, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. But the panic set in and everything changed. If Helga didn’t get away soon, she wouldn’t get away at all.
Glancing around, she stealthily slid along the length of the old shack and quickly ducked inside. She climbed the rickety ladder leading up to the barn’s loft, moving carefully, knowing the weight of her slight body might be too much for the rotting wood floor. Crouching in the corner of the loft, Helga peered through the cracks in the wall.
The men were approaching, each carrying a torch, their flames flickering in the polar night sky. The silhouettes of their bodies were awash with the blue-and-green northern lights flickering in the heavens above. Helga could feel the pulsing colors of the nordlys vibrating within her own body. The rainbow of lights had always given her a sense of complete connection with nature, seeming to bridge the gap between her and all of creation. They gave her the strength to do what she must.
A rippling sensation trickled through her body, her pale blonde hair lifting and swirling as a sudden breeze made its way through the barn. She breathed deeply, closing her blue eyes and envisioning the breeze turning into a gale-force wind. Picturing the wind in her mind, Helga imagined it extinguishing the flames of the men’s torches.
“Så det. So be it,” she whispered.
As the thought entered her mind and the words came out of her mouth, every torch flickered before going out completely. Helga smiled to herself as the familiar flow of electricity coursed through her body. The men’s angry voices echoed in the night as they stumbled, trying to figure out what happened. She waited quietly, and after several minutes, the men headed back toward the fortress of Vardøhus.
Exhaling heavily, Helga sank onto one of the bales of hay at her feet. She must follow the plan, even if she didn’t want to. If she failed, she would find herself on trial, like so many other women in her village. The panic had spread like wildfire, and she tried her best to remain in the shadows. Unfortunately, her gift had a way of thrusting her into the light.
She had always been proud of her abilities, so much like those of her mother and grandmother yet distinctly her own. Her twin sister, Bekka, also had the gift. Together, the girls had been a powerful force. Their mother, Else, called the twins “The generation of two,” believing their magic was unstoppable.
The problem was that the “generation of two” had to sacrifice something in order to be granted such power. In their case, the sacrifice had been too great; Bekka was taken away, the payment for the possession of intense magic. When Bekka drowned as a young girl, Helga nearly died of grief herself. Losing her twin was a wound she would bear forever.
The women in Helga’s family were part of a legacy. She was simply one link in a long chain of women whose special abilities couldn’t be explained. Helga believed her powers came from God. Others believed their origin was darker. Else said their gifts were given so they might serve others, just as they had done for generations. But now their gifts were misunderstood, putting them all in danger.
The tragedy began when several fishermen perished at sea in a deadly storm. Because no one could explain the events, the women of the village were blamed. They were accused of sorcery, of making pacts with the Devil. It was said that the women opened their wind knots, blowing up a storm to make the fishermen’s boats sink.
Since then, Vardø had become a dangerous place, filled with murmurings and finger-pointing. One terrifying word struck fear in Helga’s heart as it was hurled throughout the town—witch.
As more innocents were accused, Helga’s worry grew. The people in the village knew of her abilities. She had used her gifts to help the townspeople since she was a small girl, always willing to do what she could to ease her neighbors’ pain, to take their discomfort upon herself, to feel the sickness leave their bodies as she gazed into their eyes. Now those eyes bored into her, viewing her not with gratitude but with anger and fear.
She wasn’t safe, and she wondered whether she ever would be again. Her gifts could only cause her harm. If she wanted to stay alive, she had to leave Vardø. She would follow Else’s final instructions—sneak to the harbor and sail away with Finn, the Dutch fisherman who believed Helga could control the weather. Else had promised Finn her daughter’s hand in marriage. She had sweetened the deal by convincing him that Helga would ensure the safety of himself and his crew.
It was Else’s final act of love, a dangerous effort to keep her daughter safe. Helga had no idea what awaited her beyond the shores of Vardø, or if she would ever return to her beloved village. She didn’t even know if she had the strength to carry out the plan. But she had to try.
When the angry band of men dragged her mother away, Helga knew Vardø could no longer be her home. Else’s hastily whispered final words before her death gave Helga the way out. It was risky, but it was her only chance.
Helga crept from the barn, bracing herself against the chilling wind. As she ran toward the shore, she remembered the last time she spoke to her mother, just moments before Else was burned at the stake.
“I will not leave you, Mother. I must stay,” Helga cried as she gripped her mother’s hand.
“Take this. It is your legacy. It will keep you safe.” Else removed the Ansuz rune necklace from her own neck and placed it around Helga’s.
“I can’t leave you,” Helga sobbed as she rolled the pendant within her fingers.
“I am not long for this world. You must go.” Else’s beautiful blue eyes were wild with determination. “Do you have it?”
“The book?”
“Yes. That book is all we have left. Guard it with your life.”
“Why is the book so important, Mother?”
“It tells our story. You will add yours to its pages. Continue our legacy.”
“Yes, Mother.” Helga nodded as she sobbed.
“My blessed daughter, I am at peace because you will survive.”
“How can you be sure? Have you seen it in a vision?”
“I have seen it clearly,” Else answered with a smile.
“Where will I go?”
“That I have not seen. But one thing I know for certain—no matter where you go, you will always be min datter av havet.”
“Your daughter of the sea,” Helga repeated.
One
Present Day, Departure Cove, Oregon
Runa Brandon hated change. In her mind, there was nothing better than the perfect sameness of an ordinary day. She loved predictability and routine, preferring to always do the same thing. She was afraid of rocking the boat and venturing into the unknown.
Maybe it was the fear of the unfamiliar that prevented her from moving forward, instead keeping her stuck in the quagmire of the past. It was the only excuse s
he had for staying with her abusive, controlling ex-fiancé for as long as she had. Runa had a knack for holding on when she should simply let go.
Glancing nervously around the storefront, stacked from floor to ceiling with boxes, Runa fidgeted with the ring on her right hand. The sterling silver Ansuz rune symbol was given to her by her mother, Asta, for her sixteenth birthday.
A follower of all things mystical, Asta said the ring would inspire insight and wisdom. So far, Runa didn’t think it had done much good. She thought Asta’s beliefs were a bunch of hocus-pocus, but she cherished the jewelry because it came from her mother.
“Here’s another box. Where do you want it?” Asta, slightly out of breath, blew a strand of wayward hair from her eyes.
“I’ll grab it. Thanks.”
