“So how did you get it back?”
“Trebuchet, forger of the grail, dwelt on an island in the middle of a lake, near Wales in Great Britain. The lake surrounded the legendary island of Avalon. Magical mists usually hid this island from nonbelievers. The master smith lived there, with the famed lady of the lake, the high priestess of the ancient religion—Nimue. Fate. She who lives forever and embodies the collective memories of the whole human race.”
“What part did Nimue play?”
“One of her handmaidens, Olwen, a whisper of a girl, who caused flowers to spring up wherever she went, used her own charms and magical slight-of-hand methods to find the grail and steal it back. The priestesses hid it on their island and Avalon disappeared once again into the mist.”
“But the grail still wasn’t safe?”
“The pagans became worried because the Christian knights searched for the grail so relentlessly. The priestesses didn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands again. They convinced Trebuchet to melt down the grail. He blended the molten silver with other precious metals and then cast the mixture into twenty-six candle holders. Each of the thirteen priestesses took possession of a pair of candle holders. They planned to pass them down to their daughters from generation to generation. Our family’s silver candle holders sit before you, Annabelle. One day they will belong to you and after that to your daughter. My ancestry is very powerful and I needed a daughter so I could pass along what’s left of the Holy Grail to her.”
The silver candle holders have always sat in the center of our kitchen table. They look the same yet different to me tonight. When I reach one hand out and tentatively touch one of them, the metal feels warm, as if it’s glowing with a life of its own. None of my surroundings seem familiar to me anymore.
Nathaniel sips his tea thoughtfully and then sets down his cup. “You’ll never be ordinary, Annabelle, so get used to it.”
“There’s more,” my mother continues. “The surviving members of the ancient pagan coven had to go underground to stay safe from the Christians. The candle holders were kept as family treasures, but we never spoke of their existence outside of the family. We had to keep our heritage a secret for centuries, because the Christians hunted down and persecuted the pagans. However, we each carried the candle holders with us, hidden by our promise not to speak of them.
“Now, in the twenty-first century, the danger’s gone. No one wants to execute us, but it’s still to our advantage to be careful.” My mother nods in Nathaniel’s direction. “Who would believe us now anyway? Those who doubt us would ridicule us and those who believe us might cause too much excitement. We don’t want the candlesticks to be sold at antique auctions for thousands of dollars. We shy away from attention. We’ve learned to keep everything on the down low.”
“Down so low that I didn’t even know about my own family?” I’m feeling somewhere in between thunderstruck and pissed off at the moment. My mother drinks a little more wine and continues. She doesn’t look like she feels at all sorry for keeping so many secrets from me.
“I have to laugh at the thought of Arthur’s knights. They all charged toward the East, the holy land, ready to do battle and die in their grand pursuit of the Holy Grail. But it didn’t even exist anymore because a young girl had stolen it. Then a humble smith had melted it down and made the grail unrecognizable.”
“It’s a phenomenal story, Mom, but I need time to get used to all this.”
“Are you ready, Annabelle, to live up to your heritage, on both sides?”
“I don’t know. I need time to think. Time to adjust.”
“You don’t have time. Whether you’re ready or not, the circumstances you’ve placed yourself in demand that you step up, grow up, be brave, realize your special talents and use them wisely.”
“I have special talents?”
“We don’t know the extent of them yet, but let me finish the story and you’ll learn more about yourself.”
“I guess I have no choice.” I really do want to know more, even though it’s all very overwhelming.
“During the seventeenth century, some of our female ancestors from England traveled to America toward a life where they could have more freedom, where they could escape religious persecution. They made a huge mistake. Take a wild guess! They settled in Salem, Massachusetts.”
“No!”
“Yes. Annabelle, you and I are direct descendants of Martha Corey. She was hanged to death as a witch in 1692; insisting on her innocence with the last breath she drew. Her husband, Giles Corey, was pressed to death with stones. He was quite a few years older than Martha, and like her, proclaimed his innocence with his dying words.”
“And we’re related to her?”
“The candlesticks you see before you were hers.”
“And she died during the Salem witch trials.”
“She did. Even though she wasn’t really a practicing pagan. Giles and his wife Martha were innocent. They were followers of the Christian religion, together with the pagan healing tradition. I don’t know for certain what Martha’s special talents were, just that she was a descendant of the high pagan priestesses from King Arthur’s time. She possessed the candlesticks to prove it, too. But she didn’t cast spells like the citizens of Salem believed.”
“What did she do?”
“She practiced the ancient healing arts and there’s nothing magical about them. Healing with herbs and positive thoughts is scientifically possible. And holistic practitioners still have success with these methods today. The only thing Martha was guilty of was helping her fellow humans. Fortunately, she was able to protect the life of her young daughter. Otherwise, you and I wouldn’t be sitting here today, Annabelle.”
“How did she save her child?”
“No one knows for sure. Once again, a written account would’ve endangered the lives of those who survived the witch trials. We do know that Giles Corey, her Christian, Caucasian and elderly husband, wasn’t the father of her baby. Martha’s daughter was a child of mixed race. Some historians believe the infant’s father was Native American.” My mother looks over at my father who gazes back at her. It’s all starting to make sense now.
“We’ve had to rely on oral tradition, not written documents, which would have been way too dangerous, so no one knows the whole truth. After they hanged Martha, everyone grew even more secretive. It’s a strategy that’s worked for my family, so we’ve stuck with it. It’s kept us alive.”
“And we’re all thankful for that, Susannah.” My dad nods at her and sips his tea.
“Anyway, after Martha’s execution, a friend kept her baby safe. The residents of Salem brutally murdered both Giles and Martha but the silver candle holders somehow remained in the family, passed down to Martha’s infant daughter and then to her daughter and so on, through the years, eventually ending up here on our kitchen table.”
We stare into the twin flames together.
“Miraculously, they survived and stayed in the family. Someone raised Martha Corey’s child and she lived to raise daughters and sons of her own and the line continues, down to us, Annabelle.”
“So you’re a witch?”
“I’m the descendant of a woman who was accused of witchcraft and executed for it.”
“Nathaniel said you were a witch. What spells can you cast?”
“I’m not that kind of witch.”
“Okay, what kind of witch are you?”
“Even though I’m descended from pagan priestesses and a woman who was executed for practicing witchcraft, I’m no kind of witch at all. But certain talents prevail, traditionally and genetically.”
“What kinds of talents?”
“I can heal with herbs in combination with my thoughts and touch. Unfortunately, I can’t cure cancer or anything miraculous like that, but common headaches, anxiety, ordinary stomach aches, insomnia, back and neck pain brought on by stress: piece of cake, or I should say, ‘cup of tea.’”
“And the candles?”<
br />
“Similar, but instead of making tea from the herbs, I imbed them in the candles and use them for aroma therapy; a few positive thoughts, a fragrant candle, a cup of tea with honey and you’re on the road to recovery. I like to think of myself as putting the natural back in supernatural.”
Nathaniel speaks up at this point. “There’s one more important thing.”
“What would that be?” I ask my mother. I feel I’m meeting her for the first time, even though I’ve known her since I was born.
“I have more intuition than most people, but I can’t read minds, predict the future or anything weird like that.”
“What a relief, you’re not an extreme freak of nature, you just lean a little in that direction.”
“I’m not a freak at all, Annabelle. I’m a lot like other moms, just a little more intuitive and I have a green thumb. I’m quite a gardener.”
“There’s one more thing.” Nathaniel casts a meaningful look at my mother. My dad’s tipping his chair back, smiling proudly like he’s caught a fish that’s much bigger than anyone else’s.
“Okay, Mom, I’m dying to hear. What else can you do?”
“I can ward off evil,” she reluctantly admits, rolling her eyes first in Nathaniel’s direction and then in my father’s.
“That’s all? Meg’s mom’s a lawyer. Jen’s sells real estate. Mine can ward off evil.”
“Actually, both Jen’s and Meg’s moms could use someone like her.” Nathaniel hits me with the full brilliance of his gorgeous smile.
Laughing out loud, I forget, for a moment, how pissed off I am. Then I look at my mom and realize none of this is easy for her either. She stares back into my eyes.
“Honey, I have to tell you one more thing and it’s a good thing. Nathaniel doesn’t even know this. Your brothers don’t know. Only your dad and me.”
“What?”
“You’re a healer.”
“I can heal people? How?”
“You can’t heal other people. You can heal yourself.”
“What?”
“Think about it. Remember the time you jumped off the roof with an umbrella for a parachute when you were a little girl?”
“I sprained my ankle.”
“You broke your ankle. I knew it was broken the moment I looked at it, but by the time we got to the emergency room and the doctor x-rayed it, the fracture had already healed itself.”
“How do you know that?”
“The doctor looked at the x-ray and told us your ankle was only sprained. He said you had broken the ankle before, but it had healed well. He could see evidence of a former fracture on the x-ray. He told us whoever had set the bone had done a great job. You could hardly tell it had ever been broken.”
“And it wasn’t an old fracture?”
“No, you had never injured that ankle before, not even a slight twist. There never was a fracture until you jumped off the roof and then your broken bone healed on the way to the hospital. The same thing happens when you cut yourself. The bleeding stops quickly and it heals quickly. You’re not immortal and you can get seriously injured, so don’t do anything stupid or reckless. You just heal faster than other people, a lot faster.”
“What about you, Mom?”
“I don’t have that gift. Only you do.”
“What about Dad and his side of the family?”
“Only you. We have a theory.”
“I’d love to hear it.”
She ignores my sarcasm and continues. “Your ancestors from both sides of the family tree probably had a similar genetic trait. King Philip was hard to kill. He was shot several times and lived. When the great warrior chief finally died, the English settlers didn’t take any chances. To make sure he was dead, they cut off his head and dismembered his body. They displayed his head on a pike at Fort Plymouth for twenty years, to prove to everyone that he was really dead this time. They were worried he might come back to life again, so they went into overkill. Annawan was even more indestructible. He outlived Metacom and continued his violent attacks on the white settlers for months. When they finished him off, they beheaded him, just like they did to Philip.”
“To make sure he was dead.”
“The great chief Metacom and his tribesman Annawan had the same talent you were born with, Annabelle. Like you, however, they weren’t immortal.”
“And what about the witches?”
“The witches were also harder to kill than ordinary humans. And the Christians caught onto this. They would test those suspected of witchcraft by holding the accused witch underwater, with her hands and feet tied, for a long period of time. If the woman drowned she was innocent. If she lived she was a witch. Then they’d execute her by hanging her or burning her or both. It was a lose/lose situation.”
“All done in the name of Christianity.”
“I’m afraid so. Giles Corey was pressed to death beneath piles of stones. When they arrested Giles, the torturers placed him under a wooden plank and piled heavy rocks on top of it. They kept adding more stones. They knew from experience that sometimes the accused witch continued to live and breathe long beyond the time when any normal mortal would have died. It was another test; how many stones would it take to crush them? More than it would take to kill an ordinary human.”
“Amazing!” Nathaniel shakes his head. “No one else has this trait. Only Annabelle. It has to be because she broke the curse and the gene is present on both sides of your family.”
I’m stunned, exhausted and having difficulty organizing my thoughts enough to speak, but I need to ask, “Why us, Mom? Why did our particular branch of the Blake family end the curse?”
My mother hugs me. “Because my ancestors suffered persecution similar to the Indians’ and because we possess unusual powers related to our ancestors’ religious beliefs, like the Wampanoags.”
“The pagans and the Wampanoags.” It’s taking a while to sink in.
“The witches and the Indians,” Nathaniel adds.
My mother keeps one arm around my shoulders. “People like us, Annabelle, can’t perform a purely selfish or evil act, which makes us natural-born martyrs, but it also makes us strong; death can’t finish us. Our spirits, our ideas and beliefs live on forever, influencing every generation that comes along. So we were able to break the curse. You were born, the first female Blake in over three hundred years. I have a daughter to inherit the silver candleholders.”
Dad walks over to stand behind her and rests one hand on her shoulder. Nathaniel covers my hand with his. My mother tries to reassure me.
“Annabelle, I know it’s a lot, way too much to absorb in just one night. Sleep on it. Go into school late tomorrow. We’ll talk again any time you want.”
I blurt out, “I don’t want to be loved because I’m some miracle, because I’m the end of the family curse! I want to be loved because of my ordinary, human qualities.”
“Everyone loves you. You’re brave and funny and creative. Those are all ordinary, human qualities. When life kicks you in the butt and knocks you over, you get right back up and start running. It’s your way of kicking life back.” My mom smiles and pats my dad’s hand where it still rests on her shoulder.
Dad doesn’t return her smile. He looks serious. “Annabelle, not even Joe and Clement know anything about this. Your mother and I kept these secrets because we wanted you to grow up strong and know yourself before you started messing with the supernatural.”
My mom joins in. “That’s exactly why we waited to tell you. Your father and I wanted you to understand your ordinary human side before you developed your paranormal talents. But now something we didn’t anticipate has happened. You met Wyatt and the two of you got involved with a ghost. We have to deal with it and I can help. I’ve helped Nathaniel before.”
“Knowing someone who can ward off evil comes in handy when you’re dealing with ghosts,” Nathaniel assures me. “I never go into any supernatural situation without consulting your mother first. Imagine channeling a
spirit, letting it enter your body and speak with your voice and not being certain whether its intentions are good or evil. I couldn’t do it.”
My mother shrugs. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
“When have you been doing all this?” I’ve always thought she was a stay-at-home mom with a gardening hobby. I know she’s quirky, but I never suspected anything like this.
“When I joined the historical society, I met Oliver. He knows all about your dad and his family history. He’s been following your story since you were born. He realized right away that you were the first female child born to the Blake family in centuries.”
“I feel like everyone knew but me.”
“That’s a good thing, honey,” my dad reassures me. “You weren’t ready to hear any of this. You still might not be ready, but now you have to accept it.”
My mother continues. “Oliver and I became good friends. He was all over the King Philip’s War angle of the story, the history, the truth and the legends. I told him some of my family’s story. Oliver introduced me to Nathaniel and I started to accompany him to some of his séances, kind of like a spiritual bodyguard. Is that an oxymoron?”
“I don’t know. I’m exhausted. I can’t take anymore. I’m going to bed.”
I kiss both my parents and Jeff. And then I hug Nathaniel, even though I have mixed feelings about all of them, except Jeff. At least his intentions are pure. Even though I know everyone cares and wants the best for me, I’m still annoyed about all the secrecy.
“There’s one more thing you should know,” Nathaniel explains. “Annabelle, you and Wyatt have experienced an unusual paranormal connection.”
“What are you trying to tell me?” I ask.
“You looked for and found the ghost of the Lonesome Boy, Annabelle. Then Wyatt allowed the dead boy’s soul to enter his body. It could happen again, too. Wyatt isn’t experienced enough to control the situation. I only hope that when the ghost takes over again, I’ll be there to help.”
Chapter 14
My Nightmare Becomes a Hero
Enter If You Dare Page 11
