Wicked Cries (The Wicked Cries Series Book 1)

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Wicked Cries (The Wicked Cries Series Book 1) Page 18

by Michelle Areaux


  Noah rushed over to me and grabbed me by the shoulders. "Sadie, are you okay?" he asked, shaking me.

  I nodded, still unable to speak. Something inside of me had sparked, like a fire being ignited. I'd been there before, in Elizabeth’s dreams.

  "Someone's trying to tell us to leave," I managed, shaking where I stood. It wasn’t Elizabeth, of that much I was sure‒it wasn't the same feeling I'd had when she last visited me. Instead, this presence felt evil, and what I can only describe as wrong.

  Noah nodded, understanding my fear. "Do you want to leave now?" he asked, trying to stop me from shaking. He wanted me to say yes, I could tell. He was terrified, just like me. Also like me, he was too stubborn to admit it.

  "No," I said, lying.

  Lucy stood next to me. Her face had grown pale and her eyes looked cold. She was afraid, but for the sake of me, she managed to keep herself composed.

  It took every ounce of courage I could to walk around the small room, clinging to the journal as if it were my lifeline. As I walked, I felt an invisible force behind me, pushing me to continue searching through the abandoned cottage.

  "Look," Noah said, rushing over to the far corner of the room, pointing to a hole formed by a broken floorboard. "Something's in there."

  I went over to him, peering over his shoulder as he pulled the boards up. At that moment, the wind outside chose to pick up, sending a hail of dry leaves and broken branches against the windows. The sky looked angry and threatened to storm.

  Not wanting to spend the day at the cottage, I suggested we leave, but just as Lucy and I turned to leave, Noah shouted, "Look‒there's a small box down here." He carefully pulled the box out of the small hole and dusted the dirt from the lid. Inside was a neatly folded letter with fraying edges.

  "Should we take the box and leave?" Noah asked, looking at us.

  "No," Lucy practically shrieked as she rushed to the door. "It's evil; I don't want it anywhere near me." I noticed her body shaking. "Look how the weather's changed. Something's not right here."

  "Noah, maybe you should put it back," I suggested.

  "Why?" he asked, puzzled at our hostility toward the box. "You took a journal that wasn't yours. What's the difference?”

  "Noah," I pleaded, "this is much different. The journal was a plea for help. Elizabeth wanted me to find it, so I'd know the truth behind her death, but this is evil‒something's warning us."

  Noah seemed to contemplate what I'd said for a moment. When the realization of what he actually held in his hands swept over his body, he dropped it from his hands.

  "You're right, Sadie. This is crazy. We should leave." His voice shook as he spoke. He grabbed my hand and ran over to Lucy who was standing at the door.

  Lucy struggled to pull the door open, but something seemed to be keeping it shut. We all grabbed hold of the door knob together, trying to use our combined weight to open it. A wind picked up outside and the door seemed to blow open with it, knocking us to the floor, and we hit the wooden floor with a thud. Dust and debris flew through the air.

  When I fell, the journal was knocked from my hands and slid across the room. We jumped quickly up, and I rushed over to the journal, grabbed it, and followed Noah and Lucy out the door.

  Once outside, the wind struck up around us. The sky had turned a dangerous gray, and I could smell the scent of rain approaching in the atmosphere. "We have to hurry; it’s going to rain soon," Noah shouted as he helped us through the woods.

  I jumped as thunder clapped in the sky, and a streak of white lightning lit up the sky, telling us to hurry. A large drop of water landed on my face, and I had only one thought: The Journal!

  I stuffed the volume under my sweatshirt, zipped up my jacket, and hugged it to my chest. Another drop hit the top of my head and I knew we wouldn't make it in time to escape the fury of the storm. The sky suddenly opened up and cold drops of water fell upon us. We ran, trying to get back to the road. My clothes were already drenched, and my hair clung to my face.

  "I can see the road," Noah shouted. "We're almost there!"

  I looked up ahead, and yes, I was able to see the clearing before the road. We were close, but it wouldn't be long before the rain would seep into the journal and ruin it.

  Suddenly, I was knocked to the ground and someone was on top of me. Mud and slimy leaves squelched against my face and under my body as I fought to free myself. I screamed a blood-curdling shriek, enough to wake the entire city. Two large hands were holding my arms down as the rain pelted my cheeks. I tried to open my eyes to see the figure on top of me, but the rain was blurring my vision, and I could only make out a distorted face.

  "Where is it?" a raspy voice spoke through the heavy winds and tumultuous thunder.

  "Where is what?" I pleaded, trying to kick the man off of me.

  "Sadie," I heard Noah call back after me.

  "Help!" I screamed, still struggling with my attacker. I had maneuvered into a position where I had my legs wrapped around his waist and tried to throw him off, but his hold was stronger than any force I could muster.

  I heard a loud moan and then a sickening thud as the man fell on top of me, and I gasped.

  Noah reached down and pulled me out from underneath the man, who was making gurgling noises.

  "Sadie, are you okay?" Noah asked, helping me up.

  "Yeah, I think so." I brushed myself off and

  looked back at the man, still spread out on the ground.

  "I'm sorry. I didn’t even see him. I should have waited for you instead of running so far ahead." His wet hair clung to his forehead and he shook his head, trying to unleash his curls from his face. Instead, more strings of mangled hair stuck to his skin.

  "No, it’s okay. I don’t know where he came from. He must've been following us. Maybe it's an officer or one of the patrolmen." I looked down at the man. His oil-stained jeans and torn flannel shirt indicated he was probably not a police officer.

  "Maybe he lives in the cottage. We might've been intruding on his space," I said, thinking aloud.

  Noah shrugged. "Maybe, but then why would he attack you?"

  I paused, unsure of what had just happened. "I don’t know."

  "Sadie!" Lucy caught up to us. "Oh, Sadie, what happened? I turned around and you and Noah were gone." Her eyes quickly diverted to my mud- stained clothes, and then to the groaning man, and her hands went to her mouth. She glanced at me and then Noah, the words forming in her eyes but not materializing on her tongue.

  "I don’t know. I was running, and then all of sudden this man attacked me. He kept asking me where it was. I have no earthly idea what he was talking about."

  "Maybe you're right, Sadie. He could be homeless and he might think we took something from the cottage."

  Noah knelt down to check the vital signs of the man he'd so chivalrously punched to knock off of me. "He's still breathing.

  "I think we should just leave. He'll be fine. The rain's starting to let up, besides, and I don’t want to be here when he wakes up‒he could be dangerous."

  I took one last look at the man on the ground, writhing as he started to come to, holding the side of his head where there was a small stream of blood coming from an open wound. Noah’s hand was bleeding from a small cut on his knuckles, and I needed to get him back to my house, so I could bandage his wound.

  "Okay," I agreed, taking Noah’s hand and letting him lead me out of the woods. Lucy followed close beside me.

  Once we'd cleared the woods, we hurried down the road to my neighborhood under the threat of monstrous thunder and lightning. Every so often one of us would look back, expecting the man to be following us, but he never came.

  When we reached my house, we latched the deadbolt, and Noah peered out of the window to see if we were being followed. He complained it was almost impossible to make anything out in the storm, and then joined Lucy and me in the living room and threw more firewood onto the fire. We sat in front of the blaze, allowing the heat to dry our clothes and
hair.

  "Did the journal get wet?" Lucy asked.

  I reached under my sweatshirt and pulled out the journal, which was amazingly still perfectly dry. I smiled and handed it over to her.

  "How are we going to continue my research?" I asked as Lucy examined the journal for damage. "Oh," Lucy said. She leaned forward and said, "We can go to the Salem Witch museums in town. They're full of historical documents and artifacts recovered from the hunts. I'm sure we'll figure something out. And if we don't, there's always Google." She chuckled.

  "Do you think I'll find my answers there?" I asked, still upset about the recent turn of events.

  Noah had been sitting quietly in the far corner of the room, looking distant and distracted.

  "Yes, Sadie. And even if we don’t, we at least have to try," Lucy said. "Look how far you've already come. We found the cottage from the journal, you know how Elizabeth’s family was murdered, and now we have to find out if Elizabeth managed to escape or if she was hanged.

  "The woman she talks about could be this Esmeralda woman, or it could even be Tituba from the history books. We have to find out. You need to know." I could hear the eagerness in her strained voice.

  "She's right," Noah finally chimed in, looking at me from across the room. His curly hair was still dripping, and he was still shivering. He looked beautiful as he sat there, alone and content.

  "Where do we start?" I asked. One thing was for certain‒we couldn’t go back to the library.

  "We can go to the museums first, and then, well, we still can rely on the journal." Lucy checked her watch. "Wow, Sadie, it's after two; I need to get home. We have school tomorrow, and I still need to study, but I'll meet you after school, and we can go to some of the museums." I waved goodbye, and she gathered her things and left.

  Noah looked around before speaking. "Um…Please don’t be mad." He stood up and reached into his jeans pocket, to reveal the small box he'd found in the cabin, with the letter still tucked safely inside.

  Both Lucy and I gasped at the sight of the object. "Why did you bring that here?" I yelled, taking a step back.

  "We need to read it. It may be nothing, or it could help us. Elizabeth led you there‒that has to be enough reason to look inside." He unfolded the letter as he spoke‒no way he was going to back down.

  He read the letter to himself, his face remained calm, so he didn't give anything away about the contents of the letter. When he finished reading, he folded the letter neatly up and placed it back inside the box.

  The anticipation was driving me crazy! "Well, tell us what it says," I said, loudly.

  "It’s just a letter from a guy named John. He said he was going to punish a girl for not agreeing to marry him, something about disgracing his family name‒pretty lame, if you ask me." He laughed at the letter until he noticed my tightly clenched jaw.

  "Noah, this is huge!" I practically screamed. "This is proof that John had Elizabeth falsely persecuted to get back at her. This is what Elizabeth was trying to tell me, that she and her family were framed. I need to send this to the newspaper. People need to see it." I was so excited, I lunged at Noah, took the box from his hands, and almost knocked him over at the same time.

  "Okay," he said, grinning, "now that you've figured that out, I guess I should probably go, too. My parents think I stayed with Alec, my neighbor." He stretched his arms and legs. I wish I could always be as zen as Noah. Even when something as life- changing as this was happening, he still acted as if nothing phased him.

  "Okay, I'll call you later," I promised.

  He gave me a long kiss me before disappearing out the front door, jumping over the bottom two steps on the front porch. I shook my head and smiled at how boyish he seemed sometimes.

  Once Noah had gone, Lucy turned to me and took the letter. "This is so great, Sadie. You'll finally be able to help Elizabeth solve her problem."

  I took in what she'd just said. Elizabeth's problem had turned into more of a personal mission for me. Instead of being quick to reveal her message, I knew I had to be careful about how I delivered the news, as it had the power to change lives, and quite possibly, the history of the town.

  Lucy left right before my parents got home. As we sat around the kitchen table, they told me about the adventures they had while in the city, and I listened with minimal interest‒I couldn't help replaying the adventures of my own weekend in my mind.

  "So, Sadie, did you do anything exciting for Halloween?" My mom asked as she stuffed a bite of chicken into her mouth.

  I looked at both of my parents and hesitated.

  I had to think about my answer, which would ultimately be determined by their technical definition of exciting. "No," I said. "Nothing worth telling."

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  That night, Elizabeth came to me in dreams, again. Only this time, she brought someone with her. I was standing in the middle of a dirt road, sporadically lined by small cottages. The scene looked familiar, but I couldn’t determine where I'd seen it before. I heard children laughing and turned to see three little girls running past me, oblivious to my apparition. A thick fog hindered my sight; I was only able to see their bright red hair flowing in the wind as they ran down the road, holding hands. I smiled at their innocence.

  Elizabeth suddenly stepped out of the thick fog, her hand extended behind her, holding onto Noah. He looked dazed and distorted. I waved, calling their names, but neither of them saw me. She was leading him toward a small, tan building, and I tried to follow, but it was as if my legs were moving in slow motion. Frustrated, I tried to move quicker, but the harder I tried, the slower I seemed to go. Anger overtook me, and I tried to scream again, but no sound would come. I was paralyzed, unable to move or speak.

  Elizabeth turned and stared past me. Her face was calm and serene, and it frightened me.

  Without warning, she left Noah standing alone and walked over to me. She held her hand out and motioned for me to follow. I took a step closer and then I woke up. How could the dream end that way?

  Where did she want me to go, and why was Noah there?

  I quickly dressed for school and left before my parents had even made it down the stairs. I drove to school listening to Nirvana‒I was angry and needed something I could relate with. When I arrived at the school, I noticed I was the first student to arrive, but the faculty parking lot was quickly filling.

  I hurried into the school, as the unwelcome rain had returned, and I didn’t want to get wet again. I rushed to my locker and put my books inside. I checked on the school library and found it was open. Inside, a large display case dominated the wall to the right of the entrance door, containing artifacts and documents that had been donated through the years to the school. The museums weren't open yet, so I'd have to make do with the school library for now. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking for, but I was sure that when I saw it, I'd know.

  I walked slowly past the case, examining every photograph, every drawing, and every document. There were pictures of the first hospital in Salem, the cutting of the ribbon on the day Salem High was built, and photographs of Salem's championship teams over the years. Nothing sparked my interest until I came across a familiar sight, the building Elizabeth had taken Noah to in my dream.

  I pressed my hands against the glass, trying to get a closer look at the words inscribed under the picture. Squinting, I made out the words "Home of Thomas Bufford."

  There was a sharp poke in my back, and a mousy voice said, "Miss, you need to keep your hands off of the glass."

  I took a step back and apologized. "I was um…just interested in the display case," I said, hoping she wasn’t angry.

  "Oh, yes, we have a fine collection here. Was there anything in particular that sparked your interest?" She smiled as she spoke, revealing countless wrinkles. She wore thick glasses over her gray eyes. Her powder-white hair had been pulled back into a tight bun.

  "Yes," I stated pointing to the picture. "Can you tell me anything about this picture
?"

  She leaned closer to the display case, careful not to put her own hands on the once streak free glass.

  "Ah, yes. That is the home of Thomas Bufford. He was one of Salem’s finest judges. It is rumored that he took part in many of the witch trials during the sixteen-hundreds. I believe one of his ancestors goes here‒you might know him: Noah Bufford?"

  My heart nearly stopped, and a cold sweat formed on my upper lip. Did she just say, Noah Bufford?

  My Noah?

  No, it couldn’t be.

  "Thanks," I mumbled, and I dashed to my locker, hoping he'd be there waiting for me, but he wasn’t. Kids had begun to pile into the school, and I searched for Noah among their faces. When I finally caught his beaming face, he was walking toward me, his hands on the strap of his backpack, looking directly ahead.

  Furious, saddened, curious, and nauseated, I ran over to him and grabbed him by the arm. "Hey," He yelped, as I pulled him down the hallway. "Where are we going? Do you need to see me in private?" he joked as I continued to pull him toward the library.

  "No," I snapped, opening the library door. With my sudden sharp tone, Noah suddenly became aware that I was not in a joking mood. He watched me with a strange expression painted across his face. I must have looked like a mad woman, my eyes red and crazed as I held tightly onto his arm. I pulled him over to the display case and showed him the picture. His eyes widened when he saw the owner's last name in the caption. His mouth dropped, and he pointed to the glass. I nodded my head in agreement.

  "Is that…my last name?" he asked, whispering the words.

  "The librarian told me you're related to him.

  Did you know that?"

  "Hey, what are you implying? Look, I don’t know anything about this. Anyway, does it look like I spend a lot of time in the library?" he sounded angry and hurt.

 

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