Ritual of Magic (Academy of the Damned Book 2) by Veronica Shade & Leigh Anderson & Rebecca Hamilton

Author:Veronica Shade & Leigh Anderson & Rebecca Hamilton [Shade, Veronica]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Evershade Publishing
Published: 2020-02-12T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Jaxon opens the front gate for me ever so politely as we leave La Voisin’s grounds and head into Danvers—a.k.a. Salem Village.

I know a lot of the students at La Voisin would go into Danvers on the weekends to eat out, go to the movies, do some shopping, and so on. But I had never gone myself. I was always too busy, always had something else to do. Usually studying or practicing my abilities, trying to catch up. I can’t even remember the last time I went to the movies. Had I gone into town even once, I might have realized a long time ago that I was in Salem.

Salem Village makes up only a very small part of Danvers. After all, I had been to the Peabody Essex Museum, but I had no idea where we were at the time. I was indoors, sure, but even when I looked out the large windows, it had looked like any other large city. I thought we were in Boston or something. But La Voisin is located very near the historic district, where Salem proper is considered to be. It’s instantly apparent that this is the Salem of myth and legend.

It’s late September, a beautiful autumn day. While the roads are paved and there are perfect sidewalks without a crack, the houses here are old. Fantastic cabins, Victorian mansions, Georgian homes. Houses from every era were built to reflect the times in which they were constructed and have been preserved that way for all of time. In many ways, the village seems lost in time. Ageless, and yet encompassing all ages at the same time.

The houses are set deeply back from the street with large front lawns, each one green and well-manicured with large New England maple trees, leaves a kaleidoscope of colors, welcoming the fall season.

There are black wrought-iron street lamps along the road we are walking. And while they are not lit now, since it’s so early in the day, there are banners hanging from each one declaring “Welcome to Salem Village” along with an image: a silhouette of a witch on a broom, her cat-like familiar perched behind her.

“It’s nice to live in a place where people don’t fear us,” I say, tongue-in-cheek. “We’re practically celebrities.”

Jaxon scoffs. “They only think it’s funny because they don’t think we really exist,” he says, and I have to give him that. “The tourists think witch history is some big joke. While the city—the mayor and city planners and so forth—just see us as a way to bring in money.”

I can’t tell if he’s right or just cynical. I suppose he could be both.

“Have any of the La Voisin witches tried to reach out to the local community?” I ask.

Jaxon looks at me like I’ve grown a third head. “After what happened at the witch trials?” he asks incredulously. “We don’t have a death wish.”

“I know,” I say, sort of frustrated.

I know about the Salem witch trials—we just spent a lot of time talking about them—but that was a long time ago.

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