Read Born Wicked: The Cahill Witch Chronicles, Book One: The Cahill Witch Chronicles, Book One for Free Online Page A

when the witches were so vastly outnumbered. The Great Temple of the Daughters of Persephone in New London was the last to fall. Most witches were murdered; the few who were left went into hiding.
Brother Ishida’s voice rises, his face going red, his black-marble eyes shining. “Our rules were made to protect you from yourselves . The witches were headstrong and lustful. Perversions of what women should be. Lord help us all if they ever rise again! We must never forget the evil they perpetrated—the way they corrupted our girls, and the way they used mind-magic on their opponents. These are women who left their enemies empty husks.”
I can—and do—mock much of what Brother Ishida teaches, but I can’t argue with this ugly bit of history. Mother confirmed the truth of it. When the early members of the Brotherhood first came to America, seeking religious freedoms, they were allowed to practice in peace. But as their numbers grew greater, they and their followers began to speak out against the witches, and they were systematically compelled to forget their objections. When the witches fell from power, the Brothers discovered asylums full of the witches’ enemies, the occupants reduced to childlike states or outright catatonia.
Elinor Evans shivers and waves her hand in the air. She’s a plump, placid girl of thirteen whose father is the chocolatier. “Can we go over the signs of mind-magic again, sir?”
Brother Ishida smiles. True mind-magic is rare as hen’s teeth, but the Brothers like to keep us frightened of it. “Of course we can. Headache. The feeling that someone is pulling on your hair, only inside. And your memory goes all foggy.” Brother Ishida’s eyes sweep over the crowd of assembled girls. “But if the witch is strong enough, there will be no symptoms. You may never know that she has invaded your mind and destroyed a memory. Witches are very clever and very wicked. That is why we must hunt them down and contain them, Elinor, so they don’t contaminate good girls like you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Elinor says, lifting her double chins with pride.
“You’re welcome. We’re nearly out of time. Let’s go over a few of the tenets of womanhood, shall we? Miss Dolamore! What is a woman’s highest purpose?”
Gabrielle Dolamore shrinks back in her seat. Her sister Marguerite is the one who was taken away last month, and the Brothers have been scrutinizing Gabby ever since. She’s a tiny girl of fourteen, all birdlike arms and legs. “To bear children and be a comfort to our husbands?” she whispers.
Brother Ishida strides forward to the very edge of the dais. He’s an imposing figure, cloaked in the Brothers’ black robes. “Speak up, Miss Dolamore. I can’t hear you.”
Gabrielle says it again, louder.
“That is correct. Miss Maura Cahill! To whom do you owe obedience?”
Next to me, Maura stiffens. “The Brotherhood. My father. And someday, my husband,” she replies, her voice crisp.
“That is correct. And what must you strive to be, girls? Answer all together!”
“Pure of heart, meek of spirit, chaste of virtue,” we chant.
“Yes. Good job, girls. That concludes our lesson. Let us clear our minds and open our hearts to the Lord.”
“We clear our minds and open our hearts to the Lord,” we echo.
“You may go in peace to serve the Lord,” he says.
We bow our heads. “Thanks be.”
Indeed, I am thankful that it’s over. I stand and arch my back as we wait for the children and adults to join us for the service proper. Some of the girls promenade down the aisle and back; others huddle together and giggle. I elbow Maura, who’s staring at Brother Ishida’s back as though he’s a two-headed calf.
“Perversions of what women should be,” Maura mimics. “Because they loved other women? Or because they refused to submit to a man’s authority?”
She has a point. The Brothers say that women having romantic relationships with each other is a very great sin. But in other, freer