Witch's Awakening Read Free Page A

“Yes, blame me, Brenna. I’ll gladly take the blame, like all those who went before me. Blame me for this, for all of our losses. Give me the blame, as always.”
    Brenna’s eyes filled with tears, revealing a glimpse of hurt and confusion that surprised Jake. Maybe the beautiful, sexy witch wasn’t made of ice after all.
    Sarah stepped up and took Brenna’s hands. “I hope you’ll be the one who finds the answers, girl. For all of our sakes.”
    Without another word, Sarah dropped Brenna’s hands and pushed past them, calling Eva Grace’s name. They followed her to the clearing where she met her grieving granddaughter with a choked cry and an embrace.
    Jake noticed that despite the sharp exchange, Brenna linked her hand with Sarah’s as they once more formed a circle around Garth.
    And as the Connelly witches joined hands, Jake felt evil brush past them as he had earlier. It stirred the trees. All four women looked up and chanted together. A single lightning bolt came out of the clear sky and struck near the edge of the cliff, just next to the falls. Then there was silence.
    Marcus murmured, “Holy shit, that’s some damn bad mojo.”
    Jake thought that summed it up well. What was happening to peaceful, magical Mourne County?

Chapter Three
    By late afternoon, the home place filled with Connelly women—cooking, cleaning, and guarding the young woman whose heart had been shattered.
    Brenna heard the murmurs of female relatives as she came down the back staircase and into the kitchen. There was a time when she would have been annoyed by their fluttering about. Right now, she was glad to have them close. Eva Grace needed their support.
    Brenna and Fiona had been upstairs with her since returning to the house a few hours ago. Eva Grace had been calm as they all changed from damp dresses into dry jeans and T-shirts that Brenna supplied. Then a storm of grief had claimed Eva Grace. Brenna knew she would recall those wrenching sobs forever.
    Two other female cousins met Brenna at the foot of the narrow staircase. “How is she?” Maggie Connelly Mills asked quietly, nodding toward the second floor.
    â€œAsleep, finally,” Brenna replied. “Fiona’s with her in case she wakes up.”
    â€œI hope she sleeps a good long time,” said Lauren Mayfield, the other cousin who was near Brenna and Eva Grace’s age. Two aunts in the kitchen agreed with silent nods and tearful sighs.
    All of them were struggling with shock and mourning, emotions this old house had witnessed too much of over the years. Mixed with joy and the family gatherings, there had been plenty of tragedy for the Connellys here.
    The kitchen was the heart of the house. The long, log-paneled room had three walls from the first cabin built when the original Connellys arrived in these Georgia mountains from Ireland in the 1750s. Since then, new generations had added on. The white farmhouse Sarah inherited was now a three-story, six-bedroom house with a huge great room and a dining room big enough to seat eighteen people.
    This was Marcus and Sarah’s home. Eva Grace had settled into a cottage in the town proper, near the shop she ran. Fiona had a small apartment on Main Street. This big house was seldom empty, however, as there were always relations in and out. Brenna had moved into the attic suite, so she could have privacy as she adjusted to being home and near her family again.
    For a family of witches so strong, Brenna wondered why they couldn’t put a stop to the tragedy that haunted them.
    Maggie interrupted Brenna’s intense thoughts. “Aunt Sarah is in the dining room with the elder aunts.”
    Brenna hesitated as she glanced toward the front of the house. The elder aunts were her grandmother’s two sisters, Doris and Frances. Along with Sarah, they were the last of their generation. Brenna imagined they were talking about what this attack from the Woman