Tales of Aradia The Last Witch Volume 2: Tales of Aradia the Last Witch, #2

By L.A. Jones

Please note that this is the unedited version so you can expect to find flaws. Flaws such as bad grammar and poor punctuation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L.A. Jones
• Release date: Jan 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458056504

L.A. Jones

I am budding writer who appreciates feedback both positive and negative just basically people reading my work. I am a twenty-five year old college student with Aspergers Syndrome. I have a wonderful mother, and father, and a sister who is also in college. My greatest passion is my writing, and I hope it will give as much joy to my readers as it does for me. Tales of Aradia the Last Witch is my first book series. if you wish to contact me more directly go on Tales of Aradia's Facebook page and leave me a note.

Book preview

Chapter One

Master Maurice, breakfast is ready!

Maurice kicked off the sheets of his bed. It was hot and sticky, but that was to be expected. It was getting close to June so the humidity from the summer was sure to follow.

And summer means summer parties. Maurice smiled to himself as he threw his dressing robe on and slipped on his slippers. Summer parties means girls looking for husbands. Eager, pretty, plump and pleasing girls. I may be too young to get married but they don't know that and what they don't know won't hurt them. He chuckled to himself as he walked out of his room.

The halls to the manor were long and pearly white that almost seemed to shimmer when the slaves opened the windows. It was seven am but the slaves had been up since three. There were a lot of things to be done on a Mississippi plantation and not just in the manor. The fields, the cotton processing, and so much more.

It's a good thing we got so many slaves to do it for us. Hell, if we had to do all this ourselves the cost of workers alone would be staggering. Thank God for heathens and free labor.

He chuckled even more as he finally entered the dinning room.

His father was already at the head of the table and dressed for the day. Wade, his twin, was also already seated as well and munching his eggs greedily. Two male slaves dressed in the family livery stood near the kitchen while a few female slaves catered to the table. His father frowned which always made Maurice laugh. I can't help it. What with his thick mustache and pale complexion...he looks like a painted puppet.

What's so funny, dear brother of mine? Wade asked, his mouth full of egg.

His father frowned even deeper. Honestly children, didn't your mother raise to behave like proper southern gentlemen?

Maurice sat down as a female slave rushed forward to pile food upon his plate. We are almost eighteen Papa. We are not children anymore.

Then stop acting like them! His father snapped sharply. He then turned back to reading the paper.

Maurice turned to eat his breakfast. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his brother stretch out his arms so his hand could deliberately rest on the slave girl's waist. Her eyes flew open, but she didn't budge. Wade seemed encouraged by that and started to grip her middle.

Maurice shook his head and shot a sideways glance at his father. Wade just rolled his eyes and then started to reach with his other hand towards the girl's bosom.

She stiffened, stood up, and shut her eyes. His hand now mere inches away, Wade's smile became more like a lecherous grin.

His father, eyes still on the paper, flipped a page and snapped. Wade, if you feel a need to associate yourself with filth like a slave woman I suggest you do it privately. Southern gentlemen do not fondle their mistresses at the table. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the girl who curtsied and eagerly rushed away.

Wade, his grin now gone, returned begrudgingly to his breakfast.

Maurice had half finished his before he noticed something amiss. Where's mother?

His father sighed deeply. She's not feeling any better today.

Maurice's ears perked up a bit. Can I go see her?

His father shrugged. After you change into proper clothes.

Maurice, my son! How lovely for you to visit me today.

Maurice grinned as he looked at the weakened southern lady laying in the big fluffy bed. Her once shiny and wavy brown hair, lay limp about her shoulders. The bloom was gone from her cheeks, her blue eyes dull as marbles, and her lips chapped.

She looks old, Maurice thought. Yet he still rushed towards his mother with open arms as if she was still the most beautiful women in all of the South.

His mother, Antoinette Le Roux, in her younger days, had been considered the belle of the south. The most exquisite and richest woman of the age. Heiress to a vast plantation fortune with a beauty to match. His father had had more than enough competition for her hand and yet he proved once for all the family motto: A McAlester never loses.

Story of my life. Maurice chuckled.

You are much too thin Maurice, his mother tsk-tsked at him. Are you ill?

Sound hilarious coming from you. No Mother, I am fine. I was just coming to check on you.

He then flashed his dashing smile with the twinkle sparkling in his eye. It was this look that won over many a woman in the South. This, however, was his mother he was smiling at.

She sighed, what do you want now?

Maurice drew back. Why mother, I don't know what you mean.

She folded her thin arms and half-smiled. You only 'come to check on me' when you want something so how much do you want?

Maurice tossed his head casually. He thought this would add a bit sincerity but his mother just stared at him. He then signed and held up two fingers in a rectangular fashion. Just a little.

She laughed softly and pointed towards her dresser drawer. He eagerly bounced up from the bed and pulled out the lower drawer. He pulled out the cash and counted it. Thank you mother.

She smiled. Anything for you Maurice.

He nodded and was about to leave. After one glance, he went to his mother's side to kiss her cheek. She smiled even wider but Maurice hardly noticed. He turned on his heel and left.

Now, he thought to himself, to buy some gifts for my ladies.

It hasn't been easy but Maurice was finally able to corner Amelie in her Uncle's library.

Her Uncle had been the first to throw a party for the summer season and she was visiting for only a couple of months. Maurice couldn't have begged for a better opportunity for seduction. He had met her a couple of weeks ago at a Polo match. She wasn't really anything special, plain black hair with a rectangular face and pointed nose but she was young and she was naive. He had to move fast before rumors about him reached her ears. Isolating her from her friends had been hard but doable. He had showered with compliments, walks in the park, tea times, and gifts. The crystal blue necklace, however that he had bought on sale in town was what would be the turning point. His chance to complete his game.

Oh Maurice, it's beautiful! Amelie gasped as soon as she saw the necklace.

Maurice grinned as he dangled it in front of her. May I put it on you?

She nodded eagerly and turned around. Her hair was already up in a bun so all she had to do is stand still. Maurice, with a great flourish of his hand, placed the crystal blue necklace slowly at the base of her throat. He made sure his hands touched her flesh as the silver chain went around her neck. He took his time doing the clasp and grinned when Amelie developed goosebumps. She giggled as he finally did the clasp. He then placed his hands on her shoulders and slowly kissed her neck.

Oh Maurice Ma' cheré. I cannot wait until we are married.

Maurice's tongue slowly flicked out to caress her skin. Neither can I.

His hands slowly made their way down her dress.

Amelie giggled. No Maurice, we must wait until we are married.

Maurice sighed, his chin resting on her shoulder blades. Amelie, I talked to my father and you have talked to yours. They both have given us their blessings. We are as good as married. So why wait to consummate it?

But Maurice...

He sighed heavily and spun Amelie around. He silenced her protests with a kiss. God I love virgins. They long for a man's touch so desperately that they practically melt like a candle wax. It makes them so easy to manipulate.

Amelie tried to protest but her words got lost in her moans of pleasure.

Do you want me? Maurice whispered in her ear.

Oui! Oui! Amelie gasped.

Maurice chuckled. I will take that as a yes.

They then fell back leisurely on the couch.

Two hours later was when they both left.

Amelie whispered something in French to him.

He nodded, understanding every word. Until tomorrow my love, was what he whispered back.

She giggled as she rushed away. She had expected him to follow her, which he did but only half way. He quickly exited as soon as he saw the door leading out into the garden. Thank God I know this place so well. He chortled under his breath. But of course because I had seduced Mr. Pierre's daughter just last summer. In the same room too.

It was all he could do from laughing out loud. Women! They are so easy! It's almost sad.

He leaned against the house before reaching into his breast pocket. Thank God in spite of our tumble I still managed to hang on to my snuff box.

He snorted heavily and leaned his head back. He listened to the sounds of the Bayou and the insects while letting the satisfaction wash over him. She obviously doesn't do much traveling to honestly believe her father would get her letter by now. However, that was kind of the point. Mind you, the moment her father gets it he will probably freak out considering all the rumors his brother has heard about me. I will probably be banned from their parties forever. Oh well, who cares? After deflowering all his daughters and now his niece there's no challenge left.

And besides, he thought with a malicious grin, after my father is done with him. The value of their estate will go down dramatically so why bother looking at any of them twice.

He laughed again before hearing some rustling in the bushes.

No please Mr. McAlester. Not here.

"Shut up you little dark bitch! Keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you!

Maurice then heard something that sounded a lot like a slap.

Stop sniveling!

Maurice crept towards the sound and heard rustling of cloth and materials. There on the white stone path between the rose bushes was his twin holding down a whimpering slave.

What do you think you were doing? Maurice snapped as he barreled into Wade's room.

His twin stood in front of his mirror stripping off his bow tie and jacket. He paused to admire the finger nail scratches left on his cheek. Hmm, she was a strong one.

Maurice tapped his foot.

Wade glanced over his shoulder. What?

Maurice folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. I asked you a question, what do you think you were doing?

Wade cackled as he shed off his shirt and took his jacket to the closet. Having some fun brother dear.

With a slave? Maurice added with disdain dripping from his lips.

Wade cackled again as he flopped onto his bed. Slaves are so much fun Mo, especially slave women. The real smart ones just do what you say but the other ones...now those could use some taming.

He slowly licked his lips. Come to think of it, taming them is fun too!

Maurice slowly exhaled a breath through his nose. Slaves Wade? You are screwing around with slaves? Why? Why associate with such filth? A man of your standing? When you can have any woman you want.

Wade laughed. Lots of southern gentlemen have slave mistresses brother dear, we know that better than anyone. After all, our father had a slave mistress.

Maurice grumbled. Don't remind me. He still remembered the humiliation he had felt when he found out.

Wade laughed at his brother's uneasiness. Let me tell you something about slave women Maurice. They are nothing more than property. They have no rights or anything, which means you can rape them, beat them, or even cut their hands off and there's nothing they could do about it. It doesn't matter what you do to the slaves and their women because they can't fight back. I once raped a slave woman who I know was married. She threatened me and guess what I did? I told her if she told anybody not only would I order her husband to brought in so he could watch but I would also sell him another trader. Her children too! You should have seen her face it was priceless!

What about bastard children? Maurice pointed out. Aren't you worried about those?

Wade shrugged. Those only have rights if you give them any. Others you can just drown in the bayou or sell if you want to make some money.

Maurice's jaw dropped. Wade laughed again as he rocked back and forth on his bed.

What about when your married? Maurice finally sputtered, your wife won't allow it.

Wade cocked his head. Who says she won't? Besides she will be my wife. Wives and even children are just as much property as slaves. I can do what I want with them.

Hey Maurice, would you hurry your little French ass and move this shit! The stage manager bellowed.

Maurice grumbled as he rushed towards the boxes in question. Just because my name is Maurice sure as hell don't mean I am French or nothing.

The stage manager had already turned away. Maurice started to swear but then he heard a breathy little laugh behind him. Really Mo, if Ma could hear you talk like that...

Maurice grinned grimly. But Ma ain't here is she?

He then turned to face the speaker, an experience which seemed more like looking in a mirror. His brother, Wade, stood smiling at him from the same stature; as if he were lighter version of his twin self. People often remarked how frightening it was that the McAlester brothers were so similar. It was to be expected though, after all they were identical twins. Wade, however, somehow took it a bit extreme. He would dress in the same clothes, comb his hair in the same way, and even try to act more like Maurice. His behavior imitations would have succeed if it were not for his frequent fits of coughing.

Maurice grimaced as Wade did just that. Jesus, Maurice groused, use a handkerchief why don't you?

Wade laughed, which was hard considering his coughing fit, on my salary? Ha!

Maurice grimaced even further as he hauled the boxes back to prop room. We would be able to get more wages if this damn war would have ended sooner.

Wade followed him. We wouldn't even have to stoop so low as to work for wages if this damned war hadn't started.

Maurice sighed as he stacked the boxes from big to small. Yeah remember how things used to be with us. We were the only living sons of one of the richest plantation owners in the South. We had everything at our fingertips: wealth, power, and privilege.

And then the war started, Wade interjected.

Made by bleeding hearts of those damned abolitionists who honestly believe that slavery was immoral, Maurice continued. He then snorted loudly as he turned to face Wade. Who freaking cares if its immoral or not? They are just filthy slaves! They have no feelings! They are nothing but heathens so they don't deserve rights or nothing.

Bloody ungrateful darkies, Wade muttered, after years of feeding them, clothing them, and giving them places to stay. They have the goddamn nerve to demand rights!

Maurice clenched his fists. So the first opportunity they get they run off to the north to be free.

Thus ended the legacy of the wealth, power, and privilege of the McAlester family, Wade concluded with a bitter grin. He coughed into his hand again before turning away.

Not to mention our lives, Maurice muttered, although it hasn't been so bad, traveling here and finding these jobs has been quite an adventure. He sighed as he leaned against the doorway. But I swore to myself that it was only temporary. Once the war was over, we believe we could go back home with brand new slaves and start again. This, of course, was assuming the south but since the 13the amendment has passed and they say Lee will surrender soon...well those dreams of going back home and making something of our lives now seems more like a dream than a possible reality.

Hey there boy, how would you like to earn some extra money?

Maurice turned in the direction of the speaker. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it was definitely not a dandy with a fine mustache and fine clothes. He looks like he dressed up for the theater.

Hey! I know you, Maurice shouted suddenly, you're John Wilkes Booth! The actor.

Booth smiled. I guess my reputation precedes me.

Maurice had to laugh. Please! You are one of the most popular actors ever to walk the stage. We all thought you had moved on to grander stages by now.

Booth grimaced. Sadly, no. I have lost my taste for acting and developed different appetites.

Maurice raised an eyebrow.

Most especially, I have developed very particular thirsts such as a thirst for justice.

Now Maurice was intrigued. What are you talking about Mr. Booth?

You still work at this theater do you not?

Maurice flicked a thumb towards the door. You see me standing in front of it don't you?

Aren't the President and his wife due to come here soon?

Maurice scowled, and shrugged. I suppose.

Well like I said before how would you like to earn some extra money?

Maurice folded his arms and leaned against the wall. Depends on what it is.

As a prop boy you must have access to all sorts of tools...

So? Maurice interrupted.

Booth took a deep breath. So? How would you like to earn a whole dollar by creating a spy hole in the President's door?

Maurice stood up straight. The President's door? Why?

Booth scowled once again. Why doesn't concern you. Will you do it?

Maurice hesitated and the air grew thick from the tension. He then looked John Wilkes Booth in the eye and held out his hand.

It hadn't been too hard to do what Booth had requested and the dollar was a welcome addition to their meager wages. Maurice smiled as he thought about what he and Wade could buy. Maybe some new clothes or even a woman or two. He grinned crudely but then a neigh of a horse caught his attention. He was oblivious to the performance going on but since he was standing so close to the door he could still hear what went on outside of it. He squinted his eyes when he saw Booth slip in, still dressed in his dandy outfit. What's he doing here? But then he remembered Booth asking about the President appearing at the theater. He turned his head to look at the devil so to speak. He scowled as he saw the tall, dark bearded, thin man laugh right next to his short and stout wife. My father would be about his age, Maurice thought grimly, if he had lived that is but losing mother and the plantation was too much for him. All his dreams, his hopes, and plans all wasted because a bunch of heathens wanted rights. He died a broken man while those ungrateful animals escaped. And there sits the man responsible, laughing and sitting with his wife as if he had not a care in the world while both my parents rot in their graves.

Maurice grumbled for probably the hundredth time at the unfairness of it all. He felt so consumed by hate that he almost didn't see the man creeping up behind President Lincoln. What the hell? Maurice almost strained his eyesight trying to determine who it was. Soon enough he was able to see and determine the figure of Booth. What's he doing?

Slowly, Booth came up behind Lincoln and raised his arm. The gun in his hand was so small that Maurice almost didn't see it. Time seemed to slow down as Maurice watched Booth hold the derringer two inches away from the President and pull the trigger. Maurice gasped as several people in the theatre screamed. He then saw Booth knife one of Lincoln's soliders and jump from the balcony. His spur got caught on the flag and almost tore it in half. He landed on the stage with a loud crack and turned to the people who watched in horror. Sic semper tyrannis! Booth bellowed before barreling down the stage and past Maurice. He stared at Booth who ran towards the door and out to freedom. Maurice breathed heavily as he pressed himself against the wooden wall. The spy hole, he realized, the spy hole I made for him was how Booth was able to find out if the President was there or not. I helped him find his target. I helped Booth assassinate the President!

It was barely two days after they buried Wade when they fired Maurice. It's just as well, Maurice grumbled, I never wanted to stay in that place only now what do I do? I have no job and no money. This is what he thought of constantly as he walked in the rain. He was cold, hungry, and bitter. Most of all though, he missed his brother. He missed talking to Wade and he missed having a constant companion. Now I am all alone.

He heard a loud screech and turned. He then saw a huge horse and cart barreling towards him. In haste, he jumped aside and tried to aim for the nearest store's porch. Instead, he slipped and fell in to a huge mud puddle. He picked himself up now soaked to the bone, dripping with mud, and bombarded by laughter. What do I do? He asked himself for probably the hundredth time. What do I do?

"Hey there boy, hold up a minute."

Maurice turned and felt a wave of déjà vu. Instead of Booth who stood before him, there stood a stranger. Still the clothes were of the same finery and the expression just as sinister.

Yeah, Maurice barked, what do you want?

The stranger didn't answer at least not right away. You're a pretty boy aren't you?

Maurice's eyes widened. Huh?

Such a pretty boy you are, so pretty and beautiful, the stranger's face seemed almost Cheshire cat like in its madness. So young a boy you are. So young and pretty.

Maurice tried to back away but the stranger advanced towards him. It was only until they were half way in the alley when Maurice saw the silvery glint of a knife. Oh shit!

So pretty, and so young. You are so perfect, the stranger pulled out the knife that it seemed to shine in the moonlight like lightning. Just perfect.

Maurice had lived amongst the back alley of Virginia long enough to defend himself in a fight. The stranger caught him off guard, he moved in fast like a thunder storm and struck Maurice like a lightning bolt would strike a house. Maurice's insides burst with fire and blood blossomed all over his fingers. He tried to scream for help but the stranger clasped a hand over his mouth.

Now die pretty boy! Die nice and slow, the stranger cackled softly as he raised the knife again.

Maurice's eyesight started to weaken and all he could do was stare at the knife as it came down again. He shut his eyes and seemed to resign himself to his fate. He prepared for the blow which oddly never came. He opened one eye slowly and saw a young man, the same age as Wade, grip the man's arm and toss him away. The stranger advanced again but the young man causally gripped him by the throat. The stranger struggled in his grip like a nine year old child caught in a candy store. Then Maurice swore he could see the young man smile and bend towards the stranger's neck. It was to the sound of the stranger's screams when he finally slipped into a deep sleep.

Maurice truly didn't expect to live so he was surprised when he finally woke up. He found himself in a strange but luxurious dark room. Oddly, the room had no windows so it seemed more like a red stripped and black velvet cell. Maurice gingerly touched his wound only to discover it was gone. He stood up in confusion and felt even more stunned when he realized he felt good. He felt strong and healthy, in spite of being stabbed and almost dying. He touched his face and marveled at how cold he felt.

What has happened to me? Maurice said aloud.

Me. I happened to you.

Maurice spun around towards the voice. He was amazed to see the man who saved him leaning against the door. Strange, I didn't even hear him come in.

You? You saved me? How? Why? Maurice had almost been killed by a man who found him attractive so he was weary of other men who came near him.

The young man shrugged. I couldn't let you die in the street now could I?

Maurice spat. You don't even know me so why would you bother?

The young man shrugged again. If I told you my name would that change things?

Maurice narrowed his eyes. It might.

The young man raised his head to look Maurice straight in the eye. My name is Keon.

Maurice awoke screaming after a night of dreadful dreams. He shrieked even further to discover where he was that he was in a closed coffin. What?! What's going on? He placed his hands against his the lid of the coffin and pounded with both his fist. Amazingly, the lid came off with so much as a hesitation. I guess they didn't bury me deep. Maurice couldn't help but feel a bit relieved but also a bit insulted. He pushed open the lid and sat up. It was pitch black and his eyes darted around fiercely.

So you are awake? About time.

Maurice sat up further and saw Keon sitting on a tombstone. You?! What are you doing here?!

Keon shrugged and then awareness began to dawn upon Maurice.

You! He pointed accusingly at Keon, you did this to me! You buried me alive.

Keon

Reviews for Tales of Aradia The Last Witch Volume 2

[angelnicki-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

It is very clear that the TWILIGHT series influenced the author when she wrote this story. However, there are some important differences. One of the main differences is the character, Aradia, who I felt was much stronger than Twilight's main character, Bella. Aradia fights off werewolves, helps solve mysteries, and creates homeopathic cures for friends and strangers, even those who are mean to her. The result of Aradia's strong and loving personality is that she earns herself a group of friends who would be willing to die for her. I love this character, and I am looking forward to reading more about her!

[donnamcbroomtheriot · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I loved the beginning of the book when Aradia appeared to such a sweet couple. The first part of the book was enchanting. As the story line grew and expanded, it took off in many directions and I found keeping the characters straight a little tiresome. I feel this was due to the grammatical errors, having to figure out what the word was, and then having to re-read the sentence.The book also contained too many grammar and punctuation errors that were easily found and corrected. Keeping in mind that the book was YA, I think young females will enjoy the adventure and personality of a kick-ass girl like Aradia. We would have loved to have her talents when we were young. The book does have potential. I am not rating the book because I am finding that YA is not my favorite genre and I would be biased if I did so.

[tarenn_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

TALES OF ARADIA: THE LAST WITCH by L.A. Jones is an interesting YA fantasy set in Salem,MA in present day. This is the story of Aradia,the last witch.This story is fast paced. It has vampires,werewolves,witchs,and other other world beings,and magic.While the "Master" of the vampires has all the witchs killed for so called treason,one survives,Aradia.Her mother hides her for decades until a couple finds her and adapts her. Aradia,learns as she is growing up that she is "special",but when she enters Salem High School,she will learn how special she really is. She learns her abilities,finds out who she is,what she is and who is trying to eliminate her. It has intrigue,some humor,fantasy, witchs,vampires,werewolves,survivial,and of course some action as Aradia tries to stay alive.This is a great YA book on fantasy written on YA level with high school age characters and of course a few "older" generation.This book was received for the purpose from the author and details can be found at Creatspace and My Book Addiction and More.