Secret Of The Rose (Legacy Of Magick Series, Book 2) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Ellen Dugan
flipped once.
“Coming, kitty.” As I walked over to him, I ran my hand over the arm of the old rocker and along the exposed bricks from one of the fireplace flues. Merlin trotted over and leapt up on top of one of a few old trunks that were lined up along the bricks. He started pawing at the lid.
“Okay. I get it,” I said. I knelt down in front of the trunk and waited for Merlin to hop down. The trunk opened easily and Merlin stretched up and started to sniff at the contents. I reached in and found a few pieces of vintage clothing and baby books. There were three of them. Pink ones for Holly and Ivy and a faded blue book. I opened the blue, out of curiosity, and discovered pictures of a young, smiling Gwen and a somber faced, toddler-aged Bran.
“So you’ve always been serious,” I murmured to his picture.
Merlin meowed at me again and jumped inside of the trunk. He was digging, not unlike a dog, at another old faded book. I reached in and pulled out the hardback book. It had words “Our Family” stamped in gold on the brown leather cover.
It only took a couple of seconds to realize what I was looking at. Births, deaths, and weddings were all recorded over the last one hundred years or so. I was in history-nerd heaven looking at the old book. The family tree had been carefully filled in, and the pages had been beautifully embellished with drawings of herbs and flowers. Delighted, I rested my back against the brick fireplace flue and started to read. The history began with the marriage of my great-grandmother Esther.
Esther Catherine Morgan, born in 1905, had married Walter Christopher Bishop in 1925. She and Walter had three children— Irene, Morgan (my grandfather), and Faye. Esther, I recalled, was the artist who had drawn and water colored a series of botanical subjects. I had three of the drawings that I had ‘inherited’ from my father framed and hanging in my room.
The trio of drawings may have very well been stolen from the family collection— a collection that dated between 1925 and 1926. The botanical drawings/paintings had originally numbered thirteen, and Gwen had the remaining ten. No one knew for sure how or why my father had ‘acquired’ those particular three prints. Running my fingertips close to the roses drawn so carefully around the family tree, I figured that this enhancement was also Esther’s work.
“Why isn’t this book included with the other family journals and grimoires?” I asked Merlin. He popped his head over the edge of the trunk and narrowed his eyes at me. No matter what his magickal talents, I didn’t think Merlin was going to be able to answer that question, so I went back to the book.
Further along the family tree, I discovered the writing changed, and now Rose Bishop, Esther’s daughter-in-law, appeared to have taken over the family history. I searched for Rose’s maiden name and found it in a section that listed the dates of her marriage. Rose was born Rose Olivia Jacobs in 1937, and had married Esther’s only son, Morgan Brandon Bishop, in 1960. My grandparents, Morgan and Rose, had two children— Gwen, my aunt, who’d been born in 1962, and my father, Arthur, who’d been born in 1964.
I didn’t remember my grandparents, as I’d been around two years old when they’d died. As far as we knew, Morgan and Rose Bishop had been the victims of the curse Thomas Drake unleashed when he’d discovered the Blood Moon Grimoire was missing. Even though it had been my father and Duncan’s father who had been the ones to take and hide the book, we were never sure why the curse had targeted my grandparents. How had my father ducked that curse anyway?
I returned my gaze to the neat family tree graph and noted that Aunt Gwen didn’t appear to have ever been legally married even though she’d had three children. My lips twitched at that, but it really didn’t surprise me. She was too much of a free spirit to settle down. However, she did seem to keep a friendly
“Coming, kitty.” As I walked over to him, I ran my hand over the arm of the old rocker and along the exposed bricks from one of the fireplace flues. Merlin trotted over and leapt up on top of one of a few old trunks that were lined up along the bricks. He started pawing at the lid.
“Okay. I get it,” I said. I knelt down in front of the trunk and waited for Merlin to hop down. The trunk opened easily and Merlin stretched up and started to sniff at the contents. I reached in and found a few pieces of vintage clothing and baby books. There were three of them. Pink ones for Holly and Ivy and a faded blue book. I opened the blue, out of curiosity, and discovered pictures of a young, smiling Gwen and a somber faced, toddler-aged Bran.
“So you’ve always been serious,” I murmured to his picture.
Merlin meowed at me again and jumped inside of the trunk. He was digging, not unlike a dog, at another old faded book. I reached in and pulled out the hardback book. It had words “Our Family” stamped in gold on the brown leather cover.
It only took a couple of seconds to realize what I was looking at. Births, deaths, and weddings were all recorded over the last one hundred years or so. I was in history-nerd heaven looking at the old book. The family tree had been carefully filled in, and the pages had been beautifully embellished with drawings of herbs and flowers. Delighted, I rested my back against the brick fireplace flue and started to read. The history began with the marriage of my great-grandmother Esther.
Esther Catherine Morgan, born in 1905, had married Walter Christopher Bishop in 1925. She and Walter had three children— Irene, Morgan (my grandfather), and Faye. Esther, I recalled, was the artist who had drawn and water colored a series of botanical subjects. I had three of the drawings that I had ‘inherited’ from my father framed and hanging in my room.
The trio of drawings may have very well been stolen from the family collection— a collection that dated between 1925 and 1926. The botanical drawings/paintings had originally numbered thirteen, and Gwen had the remaining ten. No one knew for sure how or why my father had ‘acquired’ those particular three prints. Running my fingertips close to the roses drawn so carefully around the family tree, I figured that this enhancement was also Esther’s work.
“Why isn’t this book included with the other family journals and grimoires?” I asked Merlin. He popped his head over the edge of the trunk and narrowed his eyes at me. No matter what his magickal talents, I didn’t think Merlin was going to be able to answer that question, so I went back to the book.
Further along the family tree, I discovered the writing changed, and now Rose Bishop, Esther’s daughter-in-law, appeared to have taken over the family history. I searched for Rose’s maiden name and found it in a section that listed the dates of her marriage. Rose was born Rose Olivia Jacobs in 1937, and had married Esther’s only son, Morgan Brandon Bishop, in 1960. My grandparents, Morgan and Rose, had two children— Gwen, my aunt, who’d been born in 1962, and my father, Arthur, who’d been born in 1964.
I didn’t remember my grandparents, as I’d been around two years old when they’d died. As far as we knew, Morgan and Rose Bishop had been the victims of the curse Thomas Drake unleashed when he’d discovered the Blood Moon Grimoire was missing. Even though it had been my father and Duncan’s father who had been the ones to take and hide the book, we were never sure why the curse had targeted my grandparents. How had my father ducked that curse anyway?
I returned my gaze to the neat family tree graph and noted that Aunt Gwen didn’t appear to have ever been legally married even though she’d had three children. My lips twitched at that, but it really didn’t surprise me. She was too much of a free spirit to settle down. However, she did seem to keep a friendly
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