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Authors: Sharon Joss
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between the land of the living and the dead. It is said that their message can only be heard by the intended recipient. Charlie’s suggestion that it’s a warning could also be correct.”
“They kept saying loosa-loosa.”
Honey gave me a worried look. “Sorry, I never learned many Senequois words, but Charlie speaks the language. Maybe he could tell you.” She rubbed her face. “I thought the nightmare was over years ago. That cult is a cancer. Now Lou is going to die and it’s all my fault.”
Instinctively, I put my arm around her. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
She stiffened, her expression stony. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”
“No. Lou told me. The Penfield witch cult did this. They killed Nate and tried to kill Lou. They’re the ones who cursed Lou and me.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at her shoes. “They won’t give up. It’s personal for them. They won’t ever stop until they kill me and my kids.”
I understood survivor’s guilt—I’d dealt with it nearly all my life. I couldn’t imagine how hard her life must’ve been—raising two kids on her own. She looked so forlorn.
“Honey, it’s not true. You had nothing to do with any of this.”
“Oh yes I do,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She raised her worried brown eyes to mine. “I’m one of them. I’m a Penfield witch.”
CHAPTER 9
“YOU HAVE TO understand,” Honey explained. “That the history of the Penfield witches began in the 18 th century, when the first settlers moved into the area now known as Penfield. The Senequois people, my ancestors, welcomed their new neighbors and helped them establish their homesteads. The Senequois tribeswomen in particular embraced the newly arrived white settler women as distant kin, and took it upon themselves to teach them about the local plants, medicinal herbs, and wildcrafting.
“Some of the women of my line became very close to several of the wives of the first settlers, or so the story has been passed down to me. They met regularly to share their knowledge. As it happened, the white women who were most accepting of the Senequois were not particular about attending church services every week. As the women learned herb lore and healing from their Senequois sisters, their children survived in greater numbers. Their husband’s crops and animals flourished. Their farms prospered. They were not plagued by pestilence and disease as severely as those on other farms. As sometimes happens, others in the community began to notice that these white women had become suspiciously friendly with the native tribeswomen.
“Fueled by jealousy and ignorance, rumors began to circulate that some of these settler women were witches. The wives of the more prosperous of these homesteaders became known as the Penfield witches. The name stuck.
“Senequois women have always shared their knowledge of wildcraft. We never excluded anyone who sought to learn from us. I grew up believing that the way of the People was one of peace and enlightenment. I was fourteen when I joined the circle, and we were known as the Penfield Eight for many, many years. By that time, only two of us could claim Senequois ancestry—my grandmother and me.”
A woman with two small children passed us, and Honey waited until they were out of earshot. She kept her voice low.
“Then, ten years ago, a brother and sister asked to join our circle. They were European—new to the area, and knowledgeable herbalists. They were so enthusiastic and eager to learn. They opened their home to the circle for our meetings and their drying shed for our herbs. They were British; unfamiliar with the ancient myths and folklore of the Senequois people. My grandmother, a storyteller of our clan, was flattered; and it was wonderful to hear the old stories again. Everyone loved this new energy coming into the group. John and Liddy had some different ideas and invited new members
“They kept saying loosa-loosa.”
Honey gave me a worried look. “Sorry, I never learned many Senequois words, but Charlie speaks the language. Maybe he could tell you.” She rubbed her face. “I thought the nightmare was over years ago. That cult is a cancer. Now Lou is going to die and it’s all my fault.”
Instinctively, I put my arm around her. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”
She stiffened, her expression stony. “You have no idea what you’re saying.”
“No. Lou told me. The Penfield witch cult did this. They killed Nate and tried to kill Lou. They’re the ones who cursed Lou and me.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at her shoes. “They won’t give up. It’s personal for them. They won’t ever stop until they kill me and my kids.”
I understood survivor’s guilt—I’d dealt with it nearly all my life. I couldn’t imagine how hard her life must’ve been—raising two kids on her own. She looked so forlorn.
“Honey, it’s not true. You had nothing to do with any of this.”
“Oh yes I do,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She raised her worried brown eyes to mine. “I’m one of them. I’m a Penfield witch.”
CHAPTER 9
“YOU HAVE TO understand,” Honey explained. “That the history of the Penfield witches began in the 18 th century, when the first settlers moved into the area now known as Penfield. The Senequois people, my ancestors, welcomed their new neighbors and helped them establish their homesteads. The Senequois tribeswomen in particular embraced the newly arrived white settler women as distant kin, and took it upon themselves to teach them about the local plants, medicinal herbs, and wildcrafting.
“Some of the women of my line became very close to several of the wives of the first settlers, or so the story has been passed down to me. They met regularly to share their knowledge. As it happened, the white women who were most accepting of the Senequois were not particular about attending church services every week. As the women learned herb lore and healing from their Senequois sisters, their children survived in greater numbers. Their husband’s crops and animals flourished. Their farms prospered. They were not plagued by pestilence and disease as severely as those on other farms. As sometimes happens, others in the community began to notice that these white women had become suspiciously friendly with the native tribeswomen.
“Fueled by jealousy and ignorance, rumors began to circulate that some of these settler women were witches. The wives of the more prosperous of these homesteaders became known as the Penfield witches. The name stuck.
“Senequois women have always shared their knowledge of wildcraft. We never excluded anyone who sought to learn from us. I grew up believing that the way of the People was one of peace and enlightenment. I was fourteen when I joined the circle, and we were known as the Penfield Eight for many, many years. By that time, only two of us could claim Senequois ancestry—my grandmother and me.”
A woman with two small children passed us, and Honey waited until they were out of earshot. She kept her voice low.
“Then, ten years ago, a brother and sister asked to join our circle. They were European—new to the area, and knowledgeable herbalists. They were so enthusiastic and eager to learn. They opened their home to the circle for our meetings and their drying shed for our herbs. They were British; unfamiliar with the ancient myths and folklore of the Senequois people. My grandmother, a storyteller of our clan, was flattered; and it was wonderful to hear the old stories again. Everyone loved this new energy coming into the group. John and Liddy had some different ideas and invited new members
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