Author Games: Salem

Task Five: The Final Speech - Joana Bradbury

Like mother, like daughter.

That’s what they say when a girl looks like her mom. That doesn’t count for me, though. Not completely, at least. I inherited much more than good looks. I am, in fact, much more like my mom than anybody ever knew. Not only did I get her looks, but I also got something infinitely better. I got witch powers.

The Funeral

‘Joseph, I got to talk to you.’

My voice is commanding, quite like my voice when I drag drunk people out of the tavern when I am about to close.

He looks at me, his face looking worn and tired. ‘Joana. I just buried my daughter because my wife found out she was a witch. I can’t deal with a lot right now.’

It’s true. Margaery had been a witch. She had known about me and Joseph, though we never told her about Lucille. We’d tell her when she was ready. She’d have to take over, after all.

Ready never came.

‘I really don’t get how you managed to find a witch hunter, and then marry her. The odds of that happening are basically zero!’

‘But it happened, Joana. Now, what do you want to talk about?’

We are walking through an empty street and without even really thinking about it, we head towards my tavern. The tavern is the busiest place in the evening and night, but during the day so few show up that I just have decided to close during daylight hours.

‘Elijah Druitt. Did he ask you questions too?’

My uncle frowns a bit as he thinks back to this day. I see it in his eyes before he tells me.

‘He did so with me too. He was asking questions about Margaery and strangeness in this town, Joseph. I think he may be on to us.’

This is what grasps his attention.

‘He can’t be on to us!’ he says so loudly that it is close to yelling.

A single woman looks up from the laundry she is folding, before returning to her work.

I put my finger on my lips and I send him a warning glare before I open the door into the tavern. Joseph enters and immediately goes for the bar.

‘I need a drink,’ he mutters as he sinks down on one of the chairs.

I walk around it and grab the first bottle I can find, scotch, and fix him a glass. Once that is taken care off I pour myself some too.

‘I need to do something,’ I say, breaking the silence. Joseph looks at me with a confused glare and I elaborate.

‘I am going to use magic tonight. On myself.’

Joseph’s eyes widen in shock. ‘Joana!’ he exclaims. ‘You know what your magic does to people! You might kill yourself!’

‘Joseph, let me explain. It might kill me and it might not. If it doesn’t, I’ll have a few cuts and bruises at the most. What I really want is for the insomniac to see that the witch of aggression used her powers on me, and for the witch hunter to see that too. They won’t suspect me to be a witch, because why would a witch use those powers on themselves and risk getting killed? It is the perfect plan, Joseph. If this doesn’t kill me, this might be what keeps me alive!’

Joseph looks at his drink, clearly thinking. He then picks it up and empties the glass in one go.

‘Do it.’

The Note

‘Oh my Satan, they’re on to me. They are on to me and they are going to find out. I’m dead. I am so dead!’