Chapter 44

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Chapter 44 

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Morrigan Tate, dragged her companion into the foyer of her house as Phillip opened the door.

"Mrs. Tate?" 

"Yes, Dear?" 

"Earlier today there were some people looking for you."

"Those bloody hypocrites from the church?" 

"No. It was a strange woman, and her companions."

"So....?" 

"Well she was quite adamant on seeing you."

Morrigan thought to herself and watched as Drake left the room, seeking the darker parts of the house. 

"This woman...was she pretty?" 

"Beautiful, my lady. One of the best looking black women I have ever seen in my life."

"Oh, and what of her companions?" 

"One was a young girl, also very beautiful, with dark hair and pale skin. The next was a man, very tall and elegant looking. All in all, it was a strange and handsome group."

"Give me a minute would you, my good man."

Phillip, bowed slightly and left the Madame in her foyer.

With a painted nail thoughtfully placed on her lip, she quickly made he way to the basement. 

She opened the door to find your average dark and damp basement. However, when she closed the door and opened it again she was greeted with the dim lights of many candles. 

She descended the stairs and found what can only be described as a witch's enclave.

Morrigan Tate could never remember how long ago it was since she was a witch. 

It had just been a fact of life. When she married her first, and last husband, she found that she didn't age as quickly as he did, and found that many menial tasks could be done with just the flick of her wrist and extraordinary concentration.  

Not many people, like the idea of this boisterous woman whose broom seemed to sweep around the house and frighten guests, whose soup would arrive to the table of an inn ice cold, and suddenly be made steaming hot. 

They didn't trust her. No they did not.

But Morrigan, ignored them and found peace with her magic. When she could she made potions for the sick and coaxed stubborn crops to grow. However, when her husband passed, she found no joy in life anymore, and shut herself away from the people. 

When ever she did come out of the house, bad things would happen in the colony. These things of course had nothing to do with her arrival, but the superstitious, and often idiotic, colonist believed it to be otherwise.  

So, she was branded a witch and lived her life as such. 

Now, here she sat at an elaborate oak table, staring at the fate of the man whom she had brought into her home and wondered why she was the one who was given such responsibility?

The clumps of fate had moved and she could see that she had missed the meeting with the strange woman who had come to her door only hours earlier.

The clump played itself out and she could see Phillip telling the woman that he should come back tomorrow morning.

After it was done, the clump moved to it's early morning position. But she moved it back and played the scene over again, this time freezing it on the faces of those who had come to visit her. 

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