Soul Inheritance (12 page)

Katherine sat quietly looking down at the book. “Lucky me.” She turned the page. This one was a wedding ceremony by the water. Greystone stood before the couple, performing the rites. They each held in their hands a goblet with the crest. The free hands symbolically tied with a tasseled rope, bonding them together for eternity.

On the page that faced the ceremony more of the family wore the crest, including the new addition.

“
Wait. This guy wasn’t blood. The crest seems to signify who has power in the pictures. So how does he have the crest?”

Dora sat quietly. “Maybe they were adding people who strengthened the power base. Those who attracted it naturally, like you, would add to the blood line. The chances they intermarried within the family are unlikely. Even pagan bloodlines found that to be taboo. They would have done better to marry other pagans. People who understood how natural magic works, how to control and use the power they’d conjured. Those who’d strengthen the line as it progressed throughout the generations.”

“
People who’d pay the price.” She looked up at Dora. “Why’s it so determined that I’m its property? That it has some right to me?”

“
Take the time to figure this out. Don’t go any further until you do. I’ll go make some breakfast. Read the drawings for their meaning. You know far more than you realize. What’re your beliefs Katherine? In regards to death and time?”

Katherine looked blankly at Dora. “I haven’t really decided. I always felt there’s a lot more than people like to think. That there’re things that can’t be explained by sticking to the accepted theologies, religions, science.”

“
What do you think about reincarnation?”

“
Haven’t really thought about it.”

“
Hmm…” Dora turned and left.

Katherine watched her go, then proceeded to study the book. “Maybe I’ve been avoiding the answer all along. Maybe the reason for the book was to leave clues. Maybe the whole point was that whoever wrote it wanted it to end.”

Chapter seven

Dora came back to the library some time later with breakfast.

“
How’s it going?”

Katherine stretched. The book was turned to the center. “Well, it’s enlightening.”

“
Bet you never knew your family history was so dramatic.”

“
Tell ya the truth I’ve never really given it much thought till just before dad … I don’t really know why. He never talked about it and I never asked. Now that I look back it seems odd. What kid doesn’t wonder?” She turned another page.

“
Um… well, maybe there were influences at work, on both of you.”

“
Yea, I suppose that could be.” Katherine gave a very tired laugh. “Strange how accepting that sounds. A month ago I’d have said that was just superstition or insanity.”

“
Yea. It’s strange how crossing that invisible barrier between the accepted and the unimaginable can change your perception. I was born to magic, to Wiccan ways. It seems strange to me to walk down the street with people who would consider me crazy. It boggles the mind to think how the separation happened in the first place.”

“
Oh, don’t get me thinking about all the stuff beyond this! I’ll go crazy.” Katherine smiled across the table as she reached for the hot tea and a cinnamon roll.

Dora grinned, “Glad you’re feeling better. What’ve you got so far?”

“
Well, it seems the family married and spread out into cabins around the lake. Little families. Things go rather productively as they build up the town and a few even have houses there. Somewhere around the matriarch’s middle age he falls in love with a woman who’s traveling and stops in their town. She’s with a group of people. They seem to be living out of wagons. In the drawings they’re dressed elaborately compared to the rest of the people in here.”

“
Sounds like a gypsy maybe?” Dora stretched to look at the page Katherine was indicating. “itum magus, the Latin for traveling magic. That would make sense. Gypsies were pretty powerful at one time. They gathered knowledge as they traveled that added to their natural magic.”

“
Anyway. He fell in love with her, or maybe her magic, but she returned that love.” She turned the page to another wedding ceremony. “And they married. Miranda… the woman from my dream. What’s the Latin beside her name?”

Dora looked carefully at the name then at Katherine. “It speaks of the union of Miranda and Greystone. Seems it’s coming to you on its own.”

“
It feels like it’s seeping in here and there.” She turned the page again. “Apparently something happened here.”

The drawing was of Greystone kneeling by the water; his reflection was the creature from the dreams. Miranda sat on the shore on a blanket with a picnic basket as two young children played in the background.

“
I think this caption says the corruption of power.” She turned the book so Dora could see.

“
Umm…” she shook her head, “not quite. It’s something like growing or transforming with power.”

“
His power grew,” She hesitated, thinking, “To consume him?”

“
That would explain this.” On the next page Greystone was still kneeling over the water, only now the arm of the reflection reached out, grasping him by the throat, pulling him down. Miranda was running for the house, a child in each arm.

“
From there Miranda seems to have been trapped. The family used the children for leverage. He ruled the family, shared the power and each of them eventually matured until they turned into various… things. He seems to be feeding on her power.”

The picture Katherine turned to showed Miranda knelt on the floor in front of Greystone, streaks of misty haze emanating from her toward him.

Dora seemed far away for a moment. “But why? Why would he need her magic?”

“
Whatever the reason it wasn’t good, not if he had to make her a prisoner. It probably drained her ability to resist. Miranda finally protected herself,” Katherine opened the book to a page where Miranda knelt in front of a window with a full moon on the other side. On the sill lay a ring. The opposite page held a much larger depiction of the silver and ruby ring.

“
Powers of Illumines,” Dora perked up, coming out of that thoughtful, musing state.  “She enchanted the ring, calling on the goddess for help. By now she would’ve realized that she was the key to finalizing his power somehow. That getting away was the only way to protect her children. She presumed the children would be innocent.”

The phrase caught Katherine off guard. She looked up at Dora in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“
Well, not all children are born innocent the way people like to think. You must remember these two were directly sired by him. It’s debatable if they were born innocent or were part the creature that he was,” Dora fell silent, staring out the window.

Katherine watched her, leaned back in the chair. “Spit it out.”

“
This seems to be going in one distinct direction.” Dora studied her hands, avoided looking up.

“
But he didn’t become the creature until after they were born.”

“
In order for him to become anything it had to have already been there inside him. That’s why I say children are not necessarily born innocent. Innocence can be turned, but something within them has to exist. In this case these people gave themselves over to this. Were making exchanges. In order for it to maximize the power it was giving it would want them to be around more than just one life time. They were likely reborn into the family over and over.”

Katherine was very still, she stared off toward the windows on the other side of the library. “What would that mean for a direct descendent?”

Dora’s grey eyes bored into her own. “I’m not sure. He may be after you not only for the potential that lies within, but for who you are. Your father didn’t have the potential. Maybe he chose Miranda because of something she would not be able to fathom she possessed. Something she couldn’t develop in her lifetime or even several. Whatever the case running away won’t help. You must face it, find out the truth and arm yourself with knowledge.”

Katherine averted her eyes again. “That’s what I’m doing. That’s what drives me home,” she swallowed hard. “I mean, to Maine.”

Dora reached out and touched her arm. “You mean home. Somehow that’s home. It’s where you came from, even if you weren’t born there. That’s where your origins and your trials wait. But you’ve thought about running the other way. Who could blame you? Who wouldn’t have already run to anywhere that’s as far away from Maine as possible? But if you ever want a life, with love and children and a future, you must end it. You have to face it and be done. Unless you want to bear the next generations of power for him you have to put an end to it. He won’t leave you alone. Maybe you possess the magic or whatever it was that made Miranda special. You’re a direct descendant.”

“
Yea, I think that’s pretty clear. I realized that when I saw the family pictures, I just didn’t know why it was important. What I can’t figure out is why I’m so connected to Miranda. I don’t think it’s because I’m a descendant. In the dream it was almost as if I’m her. It’s like I could almost remember what she remembers. Almost, but not quite. I’m not there just yet.”

“
How has it changed since you left home?”

Katherine looked down at the book as she thought about Dora’s question.

“
Well, it’s gotten stronger. And clearer. I almost understand the book without knowing what the words are. Like I’ve got a kind of knowledge beyond what I’ve been told, or discovered over the last few weeks. This last dream was so real. I wasn’t even myself. I was her.” Her wounds pulsed with the memory of his passionate grip.

Subconsciously she rubbed her arms and winced. “I was her in the realest sense of the word.”

“
Maybe it’s time to find out for sure. If you had the opportunity would you want to? In safety of course, not in physical danger like in the dreams.”

“
What do you mean?”

“
Well, it seems that you’re finding out in bits and pieces. Maybe you’re being led. Finding out what he wants you to know. Things are seeping in alongside. He’s getting impatient, so this time he did what he thought would drive you forward, away from here. Away from a place where you’re safe from his influence. Safe while you’re looking for answers. He’s afraid you’re going to find out too much, or figure out how to work against him.”

“
That makes sense, but how am I supposed to find out what I need to know?”

“
What if you’re not a descendant of Miranda?”

Katherine looked sideway at Dora. “What do you mean?”

“
What if you
are
Miranda?”

Dora looked calmly across the table, leaning back in her chair and relaxing as if she had just thrown a heavy load off her shoulders.

“
I don’t hide the fact that I’m a witch. In our beliefs we’re… recycled, if you will. We’re born back in a place where our level of ability is needed. Our individual power builds through our various lives. We all have a destiny. Maybe yours was to overcome what was born of that place, of your ancestors. Maybe that’s what Miranda was supposed to do, but she wasn’t strong enough. She had to go through several lives, learning and building her strength along the way. Now the power’s been reborn pure within you. It wouldn’t be born to someone who was incapable of using it. What if you’re Miranda? What if the time has come? What if the power in you is strong enough to complete the destiny she began? You’d be reborn into this until you complete what you’re driven to do.”

Katherine was silent, staring across the table at Dora. It made sense, in a warped way. How she’d spent her whole life comfortably doing nothing productive. How suddenly everything changed, shifted and she was thrown into a world she didn’t know, but which didn’t terrify her the way it should.

“
How would I find out, safely?”

“
There’s a way to see your past lives. To absorb the knowledge of those lives, or of just a particular one. If you’re Miranda you’d know what she knew, absorb that life and the ones since. After all that’s nearly 350 years, she probably lived several times.”

Katherine nodded slowly. It was worth a try. What could it hurt?

“
How does it work?”

“
I need to gather a few fresh ingredients and I need a few things from town. I’ll also need some help. I’m not practiced enough, as old as I am, to do it alone. I don’t think I know anyone who is. Not even the Priestess herself, and she in nearly 70 and has lived for centuries again and again remembering who she was, or rather is.”

“
Wow. That must be great. Not having to start over each time.”

“
Yea, she’s made quiet a living writing period novels about those lives. Want a tour of Salem?”