SPECIAL CHAPTER SEVEN: ABIGAIL

I was fixated on the torn-out pages of my father's record when I felt it.

It started out like a tremor at the core of my soul. But subtle as it was made to be, I knew exactly what it was.

Someone was seeking my blood. A witch was helping my granddaughter find her son.

The realization did send a chill down my spine, despite the warmth in my room, because it was something I had not anticipated.

I clenched my fists, my mind racing with possibilities.

Had I become ...