for the past few days and our history section is now out of bounds.”
She swallowed her mouthful and picked up a book and started to read it, pretending Brenna was no longer there.
Brenna stepped closer to the desk and leaned on it. She saw the name on the librarian’s badge was Celestine. Celestine wore a plaid dress that hugged her ample figure. Her curviness, along with clear framed glasses, and chestnut-colored hair that rested on her shoulders, boosted her straight into sexy librarian status in Brenna’s opinion. She had to convince her to let her in. “Why? What harm is it if they see the documents?”
Celestine huffed. “You should see the mess they leave it in! One of them even tore an original deed from the Kettleman place! Can you believe it?”
“Oh, that’s terrible. I’m sorry to hear that. But listen, my name is Brenna Ravenwood. I need to find out what happened here.” She looked Celestine straight in the eyes.
Celestine’s round face changed from a haughty expression into an excited smile. “I should have known it was you as soon as you walked in the door.”
“Oh?”
“I’m so glad you’re here!” She dropped the sandwich onto a plate and jumped up from her swivel chair, “Come with me.”
Celestine pulled open a drawer, found a set of keys, and walked toward a doorway in the back. Brenna followed her down a dimly lit hallway where they stopped in front of a tall wooden door with drawings of trees carved into it. Celestine unlocked the door and pulled it open, revealing a long flight of stairs which she proceeded to descend. The stairs led them to a dark basement. Shivers ran along her skin and her breath puffed in front of her. She hugged herself in an attempt to warm up.
Cobwebs laced the low ceiling of the basement. The thought of spiders lingering above her made Brenna swat at her skin whenever she felt an itch. The only light basement came from a candle in a wall sconce. Shouldn’t the public library have something a little more high tech? A heater wouldn’t go astray either.
Celestine lit a few more of the wall sconces, casting an orange light in the room. They walked past rows of shelves full of dusty books and piles of documents. Celestine’s short legs stopped in front of a tall shelf littered with books. She lit the two torches that sat on either side of the shelf and found a stool on wheels and dragged it over to the shelf.
“We were thinking about getting power down here but decided we don’t come in here often enough to bother,” Celestine explained while lining up the stool.
“So, this isn’t your usual history section?” Brenna asked.
“Gosh no. These books down here are worth a fortune, they’re so old. If we let the public down here, we’d have all sorts of trouble on our hands.”
Celestine stepped onto the stool. It creaked under her weight as she reached up.
“I’m part of the public,” Brenna said.
“You’re special. We’ve been waiting for you.
“You’ve been waiting for me?” Brenna asked, her voice shaky.
“Yes.”
“You said ‘we’ve been waiting.’ Who else?”
Celestine hesitated, and then pulled down the collar of her dress, revealing a silver pentagram. “All of the women living here who are descendants of the witches taught by Hawthorn, have been having vivid dreams. Dreams of what happened in the past. We were all told in our dreams the descendent of Rowena Ravenwood would arrive to set the spirits of our ancestors free. It’s not known whether you will succeed or…” Celestine’s voice trailed off. “We’re rooting for you anyway. We know you can do it.”
“How many of you are there?” An eerie feeling crept over her. There was no denying the dreams she had been having were actually visions now.
Celestine’s voice broke Brenna’s thoughts. “Well, in our coven there’s eleven witches, all related to witches burnt in the sixteen-hundreds. All of our ancestors’ souls are trapped in that forest, suffering at the hand of the dark force there.”
“When did all of this start?”
“Well, there’s no way to be sure. Our coven held rituals in the forest each month on the night of the full moon until two months ago. That was after your grandmother died. We all went into the forest, as usual, expecting to hear laughing every now and then as before. Instead, we were faced with an incredibly mournful chanting.”
“I heard the chanting too. I couldn’t make out the words.”
“It’s an old chant witches use