Coven

Introduction: Abigail

Introduction

Abigail

The view was always nice from this window. I had not seen it for many years, I wish I had come home sooner; but it could not be helped. I lost my son Eric, and now my beloved Aunt Lenora, all within a few months of each other. I had forgotten how crisp the air could be here in London; even in the springtime, it was so different in America, at Pine Lake. Even though I was raised in London, America is my home now. Aunt Lenora's house was my home; she raised me after my parents died. I miss her so much, but she lived a long life, 103 she was on her last day. She had so much fight in her, blazing red hair, she was the boss, no one dare push her around, and people say I am so much like her, minus the red hair of course.

I could not help but notice Aunt Lenora did not change a thing in this room, my room. I lived with my aunt off and on for many years after finishing school; there was always a place for me when I had none; now those times were over.

I stared at the metal box that sat on the dresser. I had never seen the box before; it was described to me in detail by my aunt. It looked like old metal pewter; it had swirling designs wrapped around all of its sides, on the front a keyhole. I gripped the key in my hand so hard I could feel the same swirl pattern that adorned the box also copied on the keys handle as I pressed it hard in to my palm.

I was scared; I knew what was in the box, which made me more afraid. Earlier at my aunt's will reading I knew I would get the box, it was required, it was mandated in blood magic that the box would pass to the eldest female relative in the Wickham family; that being me.

I gained courage, and with swiftness stuck the key in the box opening the lid. Inside laid a beautiful smooth blood red stone as large as a man's hand. Attached to the inner lid was a dagger with the same swirl pattern as the box and the key. The dagger I dare not touch. Purple silk lining cushioned the stone in box. I just stared at it; then I smiled. Very few people knew how to use the stone, they did not know how to yield its power; the Wickham family did. We have learned in secret, in the past we paid the price, the accusations, trials, burnings; but we survived. For centuries England bowed down to the long dark shadow cast by the Wickham's, and now Pine Lake will fall under the very same spell.