Hauntingly Happy by Mallory H.P

Author:Mallory, H.P.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rain Press
Published: 2021-12-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Lovie breaking a fork with her grip was one of the more surprising things I’d ever witnessed from her.

Even Christopher had lost his affected ennui and stared as wide-eyed as the rest of us.

Lovie carefully put the broken bits of cutlery to the side, and then smoothed out her skirt, all yellows and deep reds, before she turned to me with a carefully neutral expression.

“Why do you ask?”

So, I told them—all about the dreams of Colonial Massachusetts and the name Margaret Sawyer. And, of course, as soon as I got close to mentioning the Ouroboros, I promptly forgot what I was talking about. Frustrating, but there it was.

As part of the conversation about the dreams, I remembered waking up covered with green paint and the image of a serpent on my stomach. So, I explained as much to everyone assembled around the table and then pulled out my phone and, being very careful not to let Drake or Christopher see it, I showed the picture to Lovie. She drew in a breath, eyes wide.

“It’s the sign for Damballah Wedo,” she announced.

“The loa of all the loas?” I asked, and Lovie answered.

“But why would,” I started.

“I don’t know,” Lovie interrupted. “But Guarda, or whoever painted you, was calling on the greatest of the loas.”

I took a deep breath, my head starting to ache over all these questions that just bombarded my poor brain. At least there was one question I had a feeling Lovie could answer. “Going back to Margaret Sawyer,” I started. “I take it you know her?”

“I know of her.” Lovie’s voice was clipped in a way I’d never heard it before.

“And?” Maggie asked, eyes wide.

Lovie nodded and then cleared her throat. “Margaret Sawyer was a witch who escaped the Salem Witch Trials.”

I waited for the rest of the explanation, but Lovie’s lips were pressed into a thin line, and she seemed disinclined to say anything more.

“Okay.” There had to be more to it than that. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

The witch trials had been a pretty horrific time, and was a rather infamous stain on the history of our country. Someone actually escaping it after being accused of witchcraft should have been celebrated, right?

“It’s rather more how she escaped that’s the problem,” Christopher said, still eyeing Lovie with concern. Then he turned to face me and the concern blanched from his expression. “Most of the people who were accused of witchcraft weren’t even practitioners. They had no power to speak of, and were just unfortunates swept up by the paranoia and fear-mongering of their neighbors.”

“Right,” Maggie said, nodding jubilantly. “I learned about that in my American history class.”

“I was speaking, child,” Christopher reprimanded her, and she immediately swallowed her own smile. He turned his irritated expression back to me and continued.

“So, was Margaret Sawyer a real witch?” I asked.

Lovie nodded. “She was most definitely a real practitioner,” she started, folding her hands primly in her lap. “Margaret Sawyer, once she was accused of being exactly what she

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