Bloodlines

Bloodlines

By

Lindsay Anne Kendal

World Castle Publishing

http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

World Castle Publishing

Pensacola, Florida

Copyright © Lindsay Anne Kendal 2011

ISBN: 9781937593070

Library of Congress Catalogue Number 2011937308

First Edition 2010

Second Edition World Castle Publishing September 15, 2011

http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com

Licensing Notes

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

Cover Art: Karen Fuller

Editor: Beth Price

Dedication

For my Mum Trish

Love you always

Prologue

There are some people in this world who believe in magic, the good form and the darkest, most evil form. For untold millennia people claimed to have practiced magic, either by themselves or in covens.

These days they say there is a scientific reason and explanation for everything that happens in the world.

You all have a choice, whether to believe it exists or not.

I sometimes wish I had that choice.

Chapter 1

Arrival

“Keira, we’ve been on this road for hours – surely it can’t go on much longer,” Lily said to me while looking at the map.

“I don’t think so, or at least I hope not, straight roads are boring.”

“According to this we’ve already entered the state of Massachusetts, so it shouldn’t be too long until we reach Salem. Do you think we’ll find them there?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve searched hundreds of records and the last time they are mentioned is from there, but that was centuries ago; then they seem to have just disappeared.”

“What will you say if you find them?”

“I just want some answers, that’s all. There are so many things I don’t know about who…what I am. Like how it began and who started it, for example.”

“You’ve managed for twenty-two years without knowing…well, twelve years of having it.”

“And like I said to you before I started all this, I’ve always wanted to know; now I have the means to be able to search.”

She went quiet and looked deep in thought. A few minutes later we saw the sign for Salem – we were now only five miles away.

We entered the village of Salem, just after 6 p.m. and checked into a motel. It was small, only consisting of ten guest rooms and the reception area. It was a one-story building and looked quite old, although you could see it had been well looked after. We booked in for a week initially but told the receptionist we might need to stay longer. Our room was quite large, which was surprising for the size of the motel itself. We had a room with two cream sofas, a TV, small stereo and table, then a small kitchen area to the right and a twin bedroom to the left. All the walls were simply painted white. It was very minimalist. We unpacked our things then went to a restaurant down the road that the receptionist had recommended. It was small, but cozy, with music that sounded like it was from the 1920’s playing quietly in the background. It was the sort of place you might go to on a first date, when you wanted to get to know the person. It was quiet and you could talk without having to shout. There were only eight other people there eating, and everyone was staring at us.

“I get the feeling they don’t get many visitors here,” Lily whispered.

“Don’t let it bother you.”

“It’s all right for you; you can shut them up by using…”

“Shut up!” I hissed. “Do I need to remind you that over a hundred people were killed here because…”

“That was a long time ago,” she interrupted, frowning.

“Just save that talk for when we’re alone, OK. Besides they’re only looking; they’re not saying anything.”

“OK, I’m sorry.”

We ate our meal then decided to go for a walk around the village and get a feel for it. Once again people were staring at us, but we didn’t react to them. The village was what I call ‘oldie worldie’ – the buildings were really old and in need of renovating. Even the street lights looked as though they were about to fall down, and most of the side roads were still cobbled. It was as though we had travelled back through time two hundred years or so. We came to a small park and sat on one of the benches facing a little pond. It was dark now and the town was dimly lit, it had a very spooky feel to it. Lily kept getting shivers all the way through her body, but it didn’t affect me at all.

“So are we going to start asking around tomorrow?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“Not losing your nerve, are you?”

“Actually I am,” I said, looking down. “What if they don’t believe me? What if they don’t want to know me?”

“You’ll never know if you give up now.” She squeezed my shoulder then we set off back to the motel.

When we got back to the hotel, I started looking at the notes I’d made on the families I was looking for. I didn’t have much to go on really and I knew I had little chance of actually being able to track them down. I just had to try.

“So what are their names again?” Lily asked

“Their surnames are Cutler, Tudor, Richards and Goodie. The men were killed during the witch-hunts, but their wives and children survived.”

“Wasn’t there anyone else?”

“Maybe, but their families would probably have been killed.”

“So how did you survive? Well, not you personally, but your bloodline? Sorry to ask so many questions, but you kinda never told me this; you never seemed to want to talk about any of it”

“I know my however-many-times great-grandfather was adopted. He was found half dead when he was nine years old and a nice old man and woman took him in and raised him as their own. Nobody knew where he came from until he had his first son. That’s when he decided to talk; he had to tell him what to expect when he got older,” I told her, passing her old letters that had been passed down through my family. “He wrote everything down so that his son would always be able to refer back to it if he needed to.”

“Wow, how have these survived so long?”

“We take good care of them.”

“So his real name was Edward Putnam?”

“Yes, but when the couple took him on they gave him a new name, because he didn’t tell them his real one. So he became Charles Jameson.”

I took the papers from her and locked them inside my case. I certainly didn’t want anyone seeing them. We decided to have an early night so we would be bright and alert tomorrow.

***

As soon as I woke the next day I had knots in my stomach. I was nervous and excited at the same time. I wanted to know more about my family, but I was scared of what I might learn. I looked at the clock – it was 9 a.m. I shook Lily, then went and got in the shower. My mind was working overtime. Would I find the ones I was looking for? How would I know it was them? If they were here, would they already know I had come to town? I shook my head, trying to shake the thoughts and questions away, and got out of the shower. I got dressed, walked up to the mirror and stared at my reflection. I was five foot six and had quite an athletic build, although I don’t know why since I never exercised, but I also had curves in all the right places. My straight black hair was just below my shoulders. I never thought my hair suited me being so dark because my skin was so pale; I never had any color in my cheeks. I have very chiseled features and green eyes and I never wear make-up. ‘A face of pure and natural beauty,’ my granddad used to tell me. He would call me ‘his little goddess’…

My mirror gazing was interrupted by Lily banging on the bathroom door.

“Keira, I swear if you don’t let me in now my bladder will burst and I’ll just do it where I stand,” Lily shouted. “And you can clean it up!”

“Sorry,” I laughed, opening the door.

She ran in and pushed me out, slamming the door and locking it. I sat in the living room and waited for her. Luckily she wasn’t one of these girls who had to put a full face of make-up on to walk outside, she would occasionally put a bit of mascara and eyeliner on, but that was it. Her motto was the same as mine – ‘I am what I am. If you don’t like it don’t look.’ She was a little smaller than me, quite slim with curly hair, brown to match her eyes. Unlike me she was olive-skinned and always had rosy cheeks.

We had breakfast at the motel then drove into the village. We bought an all-day ticket for the parking lot right next to a cemetery, which was surrounded by old stone walls with a cast-iron gate at the entrance.

“Lily, I want to go in there.”

“Argh, what for?” she asked with a pained expression. “Cemeteries give me the creeps.”

“Curiosity…Besides you always get the creeps no matter where we go.”

When we walked in we were surrounded by fairly recent graves; at least, they all seemed to be from the last hundred years. Towards the back we saw the old ones, there were hundreds of them. A lot of the headstones had broken in half or had pieces missing, when I looked at some of them I could hardly make out what they said. Sadly the weather and time had eaten away at them.

“Look at this, Keira, you can just about make it out,” she said, waving me over. “
Nancy Black, died 14 April 1692
. That was when the witch-hunt was on.”

“Yes it was, she wouldn’t have been executed though”, I explained. “They wouldn’t have buried anyone who had been accused of witchcraft in the church grounds. Its holy ground, don’t forget.”

“So where would they be and why have you come in here?”

“I don’t know where they are, I just wanted to see if any of the females were in here. They weren’t accused, well, my ancestor was…the others could have been here though, but I can’t find any of them.”

“It’s not fair; I bet most of the people who were killed were just normal human beings. They should have been allowed a proper burial and church service.”

“I know.”

We carried on looking at the graves for a while, trying to find a connection to the families I was looking for. Sadly neither of us found anything.

“Looking for a relative?” a male voice asked.

I looked up to see a tall young man with long dark hair standing a few feet in front of us.

“No.” Lily told him a little brusquely.

“Then why are you looking at these graves?”

Lily was stuck for an answer.

“It’s for a paper we’re doing,” I told him calmly.

“Paper?”

“For university…We study history.”

“Oh.” he said with a hint of disappointment.

“Why?”

“I just had a feeling…Not many people look at these graves these days. Anyway, I’ll leave you in peace. Good luck with the paper,” he said, turning away. When he had walked a few steps he stopped and turned to face us. “Are you sure that’s why you’re here?”

“Why else would we be in a cemetery?” Lily asked, shivering a little.

“Good point. Well, goodbye.”

This time when he walked away he didn’t turn back and within a few minutes he was out of sight.

“He was cute,” Lily smirked at me.

“What’s that look for?”

“You didn’t take your eyes of him.”

“I know but that wasn’t because he was cute.”

“Why then?”

“I’m not sure. I just felt…drawn to him,” That was the only way I could explain it.

“Do you think he could be…?”

“I don’t think so, I’m not lucky enough to find them so easily…or have them find me.”