The Abigail Curse

By Lesley M. Mathews

An endless curse.

An ancient evil.

But all Eden Blackwell knows is that she is no longer alone in her body.

And that Gabriel Wright, the man she loves, is sworn to destroy the evil she harbors regardless of the cost.

Can their love survive the wrath of an evil older than time?

From the Salem witch trials to New Orleans voodoo, modern day wiccans and ancient Gods; Eden and Gabriel travel the world searching for answers.

But can they free Eden from the curse, before everything and everyone they love is destroyed?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura Nunn
• Release date: Feb 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9780988567917

Lesley M. Mathews

In elementary school Lesley Mathews was writing stories of magic and mystery, great quests and evil characters. Then she grew up. Years later, while teaching music, she rediscovered her love for writing fantastical fiction. These days she is still teaching, though martial arts instead of music, and still writing though she has expanded into romantic comedy and romantic suspense as well as the paranormal genres. Lesley lives in Massachusetts with her husband Gary, her daughter, Alyssa and their bichon frise, Belle.

Book preview

THE ABIGAIL CURSE

By

Lesley M. Mathews

www.lesleymmathews.com

Copyright Lesley M. Mathews 2013

Published by Laura Nunn Publishing at Smashwords

ISBN: 978-0-9885679-1-7

Smashwords License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgments

Dedication

BOOK 1 - Eden’s Angel

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

BOOK 2 - Gabriel’s Choice

Prologue

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

About the Author

Acknowledgments

No author works in a vacuum. The help and support of family and friends is vital for a writer, without them, nothing would ever be finished.

Thank you to Barbara Wallace, Michelle Drosos and Donna Labbe, you were there at the beginning and kept insisting that I get to the end.

To my wonderful editor and publisher Laura Nunn who kept encouraging me and fixing all my punctuation, someday I’ll really understand commas, I promise.

To the New England Chapter of RWA, ladies you are a great support and resource as well as a cheering section.

Finally, a big thank you to my family. My daughter Alyssa who never failed to give me encouragement. And my wonderful husband Gary, you never stopped believing in me and always knew that I could do this. I love you more than you know.

Lesley M. Mathews

Dedication

To my mother who would have been thrilled.

BOOK 1

EDEN’S ANGEL

Prologue

Greater Salem, Massachusetts

1695

Abigail Elizabeth Booth, you have been found guilty of the charge of witchcraft and sentenced to hang. Do you have any last words? Repent, and you may yet be saved. The magistrate’s voice rang out.

Emily Taylor stood with the small crowd of people. She stared in disbelief at her adopted sister standing on the gallows with the hangman’s noose around her lovely neck.

It was a beautiful day filled with sunshine and the sweet smell of spring lilacs. Abigail’s stark black and white garb stood out in sharp contrast against the fair blue sky. As Emily watched a light breeze danced with the few tresses of her sister’s wheaten hair that had escaped from her bonnet. Standing tall and straight, with deep green eyes, Abigail looked more like an angel than the witch she been declared.

Abigail! Emily called. Her mother had cautioned her against speaking out for her sister and childhood playmate but Emily didn’t care. Abigail! she called again and ran towards the gallows. The rickety platform had been hastily constructed and Emily got splinters in her hands as she grabbed the edge to stare up at her sister. For goodness sakes, please repent sister, please! she pleaded ignoring the whispers and sideways glares from the townspeople. She felt gentle hands on her shoulders and turned to see her betrothed, Thomas Smithson.

Come away Emily, he whispered and drew her back from the gallows. Neither of them saw the smear of blood Emily’s hands left on the edge of the platform as Thomas walked her towards the back of the crowd. Nor did they see Abigail cover the blood with one bare foot. And if anyone noticed the look of triumph on her face, no one said a thing.

Abigail ignored them both, instead glaring down at the townspeople gathered at the foot of the gallows. Looking out over the crowd Abigail stared at each person in turn as if memorizing their faces for all time. More than one person shivered and turned away unable to face the hatred they could read in those beautiful but angry green eyes.

Repent? Never, she snarled at the magistrate who was standing next to her.

Then know this too, Mistress Abigail. If you will not repent then your name and all knowledge of your existence shall be struck from the records. No one shall be allowed to speak your name and you shall be forgotten for all time.

Emily felt the tears on her cheeks as she listened to the magistrate’s pronouncement. She tried to turn, to go back, surely now Abigail would listen! Surely now she understood the seriousness of what she faced. If she was hanged there would be no one who could acknowledge her, no one to bury her. Emily would not be able to mourn her sister, at least not in public. But Thomas stopped her again.

Do you want to stand up there next to her? he hissed in her ear. Leave her, she’s chosen her fate.

No! Emily spat as she tried to push back through the crowd. But Thomas held her firmly.

Unable to move she called aloud. Sister please repent, for the good of your soul!

Bah, what do I care about that? Abigail snarled but she didn’t meet Emily’s eyes. My soul belongs to Satan!

The crowd gasped at her announcement and fell back. Emily felt Thomas grab her by the waist and drag her away from the platform.

Enough Emily, you’ve tried but it’s too late, the large red headed man stated.

Hearing Abigail’s pronouncement the entire crowd, except for the magistrate, the pastor and the executioner, had moved away from the gallows. Abigail looked down at the townsfolk with distain. Then she laughed, but it was an evil, bitter sound that made Emily shudder as she heard it.

Hear me now, good people of Salem, Abigail intoned. Despite all you do to me today, I shall not die, nor shall I ever be forgotten. And you, all of you, will come to rue this day. My Lord Satan has promised me that I shall live on, somewhere among you, for all time. So, look you well, for while you may kill this body, you’ll never rid yourself, nor your children, nor your children’s children of me.

Shaking his head in sorrow at her words, Magistrate Wright signaled to the pastor who began to pray. A local man whose face was concealed by a hood checked the noose around Abigail’s throat as she stood upon the gallows.

Emily watched barely breathing, her hands clutched so tightly that her nails bit into the soft flesh of her palms. The pastor finished his prayer and the magistrate turned again to Abigail. One last time, I ask you. Will you repent, Abigail and renounce Satan? he pleaded. She only glared at him with such vehemence that he took an involuntary step back.

Then with a heavy sigh, he gave the signal. The executioner stepped up behind Abigail and kicked the stool out from beneath her feet dropping the condemned woman to her death. She made no noise, not a cry, not even a whimper.

Emily wept as she watched from her place towards the back of the crowd. Thomas held her tightly to him. She didn’t know if it was to prevent her from running to Abigail again or to comfort her.

She didn’t suffer, Emily whispered to no one. She looked at the body, at Abigail’s face. Was there a faint smile there? Though Emily didn’t want to think ill of the dead she wondered; could the Devil have taken Abigail’s soul at the moment of death? Is that why it was over so quickly? She shook her head as if to rid herself of such blasphemous thoughts.

The silence grew and seemed to spread out from that place. The blue spring sky above turned black as clouds moved in hiding the sunlight and turning day into night.

Emily bowed her head and said a silent, heartfelt prayer. It had happened so fast, she thought as she stared at the body swaying at the end of the rope. But in her heart she knew that Abigail had started down this road many years before.

When Emily’s parents had taken six-year-old Abigail into their home after her mother died, Emily had been so happy. To finally have a sister! She and Abigail had been inseparable. Abigail always had a new adventure to try, a new game to play and Emily was enchanted. If many of the games Abigail made up had a tendency to cause trouble, well Emily’s parents just assumed it was simple childhood mischief making.

With a sigh Emily reluctantly admitting to herself that maybe Abigail hadn’t been the wonderful person Emily had worshiped as a child. As they had grown older Abigail’s games went from nasty and childish to cruel and spiteful.

Emily remembered Richard Baker making fun of Abigail, teasing her and pulling her hair. Abigail had said nothing. It was Emily who ordered Richard to stop. But later that day Richard had fallen from the hayloft and landed on a pitchfork buried in the hay. He died, but only after a week of pain and suffering.

Emily never said anything to anyone, but she’d seen the nasty smile on Abigail’s face when she heard the news.

It can’t be, she whispered as she thought back over the years. Emily had to admit that Abigail always seemed to be in the vicinity whenever anything went wrong.

When Goodwife Lane had publically accused Abigail of seducing her husband, Abigail had said nothing. But Mistress Lane had given birth to a stillborn and since then had no other children. And Emily remembered with a shudder the small cruel smile that lit Abigail’s face at the news of the stillborn.

And yet no one accused Abigail of witchcraft during the madness that had gripped nearby Salem a few years past.

When the accusations of witchcraft began again Emily was afraid. She tried to talk to Abigail about her fears but, as usual, Abigail ignored her. Then some of the townswomen followed her one night and caught her dancing naked during the dark of the moon. When they found the makeshift, bloodstained altar, with the inverted cross hanging above it, Abigail’s fate had been sealed.

Abigail was found guilty of witchcraft and sentenced to death.

Emily had visited Abigail in the dark smokehouse the village used as its jail.

Abigail, please reconsider. Let me help you, please, Emily had begged as she sat on the hard bench that was the only furniture in the small room. The hooks for smoking meat hung from the ceiling giving the place a macabre air.

If you want to help me then get the key and get me out of here. Abigail told her.

I knew you’d come to your senses and repent! Wait, just wait, and I will run to get the magistrate and the pastor to hear your confession. Emily jumped to her feet ready to run all the way to the magistrate’s house.

Repent? You think I want to repent? Abigail had asked her voice heavy with sarcasm.

Yes, of course. What else? Emily turned back to her sister, words of encouragement on her lips. But the words died unspoken. For just a moment Abigail’s façade slipped and Emily had glimpsed the truth. Eyes wide with horror, she took one step and then another backing away from the woman she had called sister.

Abigail saw her fear and rejection. Go. Leave me, she spat. You’re as bad as the rest of them. No, you’re worse. At least none of them pretended to care for me.

That’s not true! Overcoming her fears Emily reached for her. I love you as my sister. Please Abigail, I’m begging you…

Bah. With a wave of her hand Abigail had cut her off in mid-sentence. "I have no need of your pitiful attempts to save me." Then she turned her back. Emily called her name and stood with one hand outstretched. Abigail however refused to turn around or acknowledge her in any way ever again.

Emily now stood with tears on her cheeks as she averted her eyes unable to look at her sister’s body.

The clouds continued to fill the sky above the crowd and the day grew even blacker and more forbidding. The breeze died as a wind blew in from the east. Emily wrinkled her nose at the scent of long dead carrion spread on the wind.

It grew wild and cold, the wind turning the dust in the square into whirling dervishes as men and women wrapped their cloaks more firmly around themselves. And still the darkness grew until it seemed more like midnight than the bright spring afternoon it had been.

A bolt of lightning suddenly shot out of the sky and struck the gallows. It enveloped Abigail’s body in flames. As the smell of burning flesh filled the air Emily screamed as pain, such pain flashed through her body. She felt as if she burned along with her sister. She could see Thomas shouting at her as the townspeople rushed towards them and she wondered if she was dying. Then everything around her went black.

Thomas grabbed Emily as she fell. She looked up at him, her mouth open as if she wanted to tell him something. And for a split second Thomas thought her brown eyes flashed green, the same emerald green as Abigail’s. Then it was gone and with a small sigh she collapsed.

Chapter 1

Boston, Massachusetts

Present Day

Amber, Eden Blackman said, and her voice broke as she stood dry eyed over her sister’s grave.

How could you do this? I don’t understand. How could you do this? Eden blinked rapidly as the rosewood casket was lowered into the freshly dug grave and tried not to cry. She’d done more than her share of crying these past few days. She wondered if it was possible to run out of tears.

With a heavy sigh, she stepped back from the grave. She had so many questions, questions that would never be answered. Why did Amber do this? What was so bad that she couldn’t tell Eden? What could have driven her to suicide?

Eden felt hollow inside, empty like there was a deep chasm that could never be filled. It had been there since the night the police had called to tell her about Amber’s death and ask her to come identify the body.

It had been a dreary early spring day. The kind where the weather still had a winter chill to it and what was left of the season’s last snow clung in tiny, dirty mounds in shaded, out-of-the way spots. A passerby had found Amber’s broken body lying on the ground in the alley outside her apartment. The police had ruled out foul play.

Eden’s thoughts circled around for what felt like the hundredth time. Why hadn’t Amber called her? What had been so bad that suicide seemed like the only way?

With a sigh she turned away from the open grave still clutching the long stemmed white rose someone had given her.

But leaving the flower, laying it on the coffin was too final. Besides, Amber had never been one for roses of any color--bright, cheerful tulips perhaps, or even silly but sweet daisies, but never roses.

Eden didn’t think she could stand hearing the dirt strike her twin’s coffin as the grave was filled. Instead she walked back towards the limo from the funeral home. She wished she had her little red convertible here instead. Then she could just drive away, go as far from the cemetery as she could. If she drove far enough, fast enough, could she outrun her pain?

One by one the mourners stopped to offer their condolences. Somehow, the small number of people, only five or six, made Eden even sadder. Amber had been so vibrant and alive. She was always surrounded by people who flocked to her natural warmth. Eden had been the shy, retiring twin. In the past year it seemed as if the twins had changed roles. Amber had inexplicably withdrawn from everything and everyone. She had retreated to her apartment and refused to see anyone, especially her worried twin.

After Eden had left yet another voice mail trying to find out what was going on, Amber hadn’t even called her back. Instead she’d sent an angry email telling Eden to butt out of her life!

That had hurt. But Amber wasn’t the only one with a temper and in her anger Eden had emailed back and told her sister that she’d leave her alone forever, if that’s what Amber wanted.

Oh how she regretted that email and wished she could delete it from her own memory. Maybe if she had tried harder Amber would still be alive. Now, though, Eden would go to her grave with these regrets.

Eden turned to take one last look at the cemetery; green grass, dark brown earth, a cloudless, blue sky, and a man standing there, staring at her.

Sad, Gabriel thought as he saw her standing there. Sad, alone and forlorn, and it was his fault.

But he had a job to do. A job he’d neglected and with that neglect had come disaster. Still watching her, shoulders bowed with grief he felt something stirring inside him, just a hint, a whisper of…what? Something he hadn’t felt for a long, long time. Was it compassion? Regret?

Ruthlessly he tamped down the feelings. They would just get in the way. He had a job to do he told himself again as the woman began walking towards him.

Excuse me, she held out her hand to him. I’m Eden Blackman, Amber’s sister, she said then stopped when he turned to face her.

Dark, was the only word she could think to describe him. He was tall, over six feet with black hair and deep brown eyes. And he was handsome, in a rugged way with a strong chin and a nose that might have been broken in some long ago football game. But it wasn’t only his appearance that was affecting her. There was an almost palpable aura of darkness that seemed to surround him. Though he didn’t seem to be evil himself, it was as if he dealt with evil on a regular basis.

Eden shook her head, amazed at the direction of her thoughts. She didn’t even know this man’s name, yet here she was speculating about him. With a start she also realized she’d been staring at him as if mesmerized.

Were you…did you know Amber? she asked again.

No. I never actually met your sister, he replied in a deep voice.

That voice made the woman inside of her sit up and take notice. It made her think of long dark nights and satin sheets. It was like the best chocolate, rich and sinful and…

Wait a sec, Eden took a step away from him. I remember now. Who the hell are you? Every time I’ve turned around this past week, there you were. Staring at me. She shot a quick glance over her shoulder. The funeral director was waiting by the limo, so at least she wasn’t alone with this creep.

The man looked down at his feet as if ashamed to meet her eyes. I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m sorrier than you know. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t. He took a deep breath and met her eyes. I could have saved her, he said simply.

Eden stared at him. You could have saved her? she asked her broken voice echoing her broken heart. How? Are you a doctor?

I am. But….

A psychiatrist?

No, I’m not a medical doctor. I’m a specialist in ancient languages and cultures. The man pulled a card out of his coat pocket and offered it to Eden. My name is Gabriel Wright.

After a second she took the card. Dr. Gabriel Wright professor of ancient languages and cultures, Bradson College. Great. I’m sure speaking Latin would have stopped Amber from jumping. The anger in her voice surprised even her as she tried to hand the card back to him. When Gabriel didn’t take the card, she stuck it in her pocket. If you never met my sister, and you’re not a medical doctor what makes you think you could have helped her?

I’m a specialist in the occult and supernatural.

The occult. Eden felt a sharp pang in her chest as anger was replaced with sorrow. My sister, she began in a quiet voice that was heavy with grief. My sister believed in every wild or spooky idea ever thought up. UFOs, astrology, vampires, witchcraft, she believed in it all, she told him. I however am a scientist and don’t believe any of it. But I put up with her crazy ideas because I loved her.

Disgusted Eden turned away from Gabriel and strode across the grass to the limousine. He followed and caught up with her before she reached the car.

Listen to me. Gabriel took Eden’s hand and turned her to face him. His frustrated anger died as he saw the lines of pain around her eyes. Headache? he asked his voice full of concern.

Yeah, I haven’t been sleeping well, Eden answered pulling her hand out of his and turning away again. Please just leave me alone.

I don’t care about your opinion of me and my field. His voice was gentle which surprised him since she’d basically called him a quack. But Amber believed in it and that belief was what drove her to jump.

Eden ignored him and climbed into the waiting car. The funeral attendant closed the door and shot a disgusted look at Gabriel.

He watched as the car drove away with the small, lonely figured