“We need to call the police,” Jaxon says.
“No! You can’t call the police. It’ll put the Descendants at risk.” I don’t want them to suffer because I’m scared.
Mrs. Meriwether paces. “It’s not a good idea, Samantha, to go to that house. We all need to think about this. I’m not sure that Jaxon’s wrong.”
They want to protect me, but I don’t think they can. It’s just a matter of time before Elijah’s fiancée lures me in. I can’t have more deaths on my head.
The doorbell rings and we all jump.
“Stay here, both of you,” says Mrs. Meriwether.
Jaxon’s eyes follow his mother with concern. I wish I could make this whole situation go away.
Elijah blinks in. “It is done. You should check on her.”
My heart thuds. I run toward the front door. Jaxon follows, close by my heels. When we get to the hallway, Mrs. Meriwether is braced against the wall, holding the piece of paper with the sleep spell in her hand.
“This was left on the stoop.” Mrs. Meriwether’s volume trails off at the end of her sentence, like it’s a real struggle for her to speak.
“Mom!” Jaxon takes one of her arms and I take the other.
“I’m okay. It’s just…” Mrs. Meriwether yawns as we bring her into the living room. “I’m just so…tired.”
We set her down on the couch. Jaxon shakes her, but her eyelids are heavy. He removes the spell from her hand and looks at it. I don’t stop him. He, too, falls back on the couch.
“Sam?” he says in confusion, his voice heavy with drowsiness.
Elijah stands by the fireplace.
I look from Jaxon to Mrs. Meriwether and feel horrible. “Jaxon, I’m so sorry.” I fight to steady my voice. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have involved you guys. I never wanted…”
They both blink without responding. The recognition of what I’ve done appears in Jaxon’s eyes. “You…” He starts the accusation but yawns instead of finishing it.
I breathe deeply and fight through my guilt. “Lay thee down and slumber take. A peaceful rest before thou wake.”
Their eyes close, and I’m not sure if I’m relieved or horrified. I grab the spell from Jaxon’s hand, tear it up, and throw it in the fireplace. The flames consume it.
“How long will they sleep?” I ask.
“Could be a few hours or a few days.”
Am I a bad person? “Come on. Let’s go. I don’t want this to be for nothing.”
I take one final look at Jaxon sleeping on the couch and run to the kitchen. I snatch up the small bottle of the inside-out spell and pull the knot pendant off my grandmother’s necklace. No need to advertise my defense system. I drop the chain on the counter with a clang, and put the silver knot in my pocket.
I turn to Elijah. “Now we need a strategy. What can you tell me about her?”
Elijah’s face is full of worry. “In the many years I have spent thinking about what happened, I have come to realize that control was the most important thing to her.”
I focus all my attention on his words. I need this information.
“The one thing she could not control was my affection for my sister. I believe that was the reason she set out to ruin her. What she did not count on was that I did not care if the whole world turned against Abigail. Even if Abigail were the witch ringleader, I would have loved her the same. In fact, it only made me protect her more. It was the job I had dedicated my life to.”
“She must’ve been furious when she saw that she couldn’t come between you.”
He nods. “When I stayed by Abigail’s side, she doubled her efforts. And when Abigail did pass, my fiancée momentarily got what she wanted. I went to her for comfort. She became the only person of consequence in my world.”
So that’s what she was after. She didn’t want to share him with anyone, even his sister.
“She almost succeeded in convincing me that it was a foolish accident that got out of control. Her lies were well spoken and calculating. But I could see in her eyes that she was secretly delighted Abigail was gone. I knew in that moment I could never be near her again.” Elijah’s eyes brim with pain.
I can’t imagine the weight of that betrayal. And to know that he was the one who told her about Abigail’s singing and her secret love in the first place. What a heavy guilt to carry around. And all these hundreds of years, he hasn’t been able to escape it.
“Understand, Samantha, that if you take away her sense of control, you may be able to stop her. I believe it is the only way.”
Elijah’s strategy seems useful but super difficult to carry out. I’ll have to do something big, something to take her by surprise. And more than that, it needs to be clever. “Is it enough to expose her as a fraud and get her to admit to her lies? One person knowing that the witch accusers were lying wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“The public has to know in order for the perception to shift.”
“That house is in the middle of the woods. There’s no way to make it public. Plus, I just knocked out the people who would believe me.”
“Indeed.”
Great, so I have to expose her publicly, but I also have to go to that house alone. “I hope there’s a way I can convince her all by myself to stop what she’s doing.”
To my surprise, he reaches out for me, pulling me into his body. “I will be there with you,” he says gently, his face bent down toward mine. I press into him, wanting to soak in the feeling of his arms holding me for even this brief moment. “I will do everything and anything to keep you safe.” He flickers slightly.
“What was that?”
“Samantha?” Elijah’s voice is strangely faint. He flickers again. The counter behind him becomes visible through his body.
My hold on him weakens. I grab at the air, but it doesn’t make a difference. He only fades faster. Elijah opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He’s barely visible anymore. Then all at once, he’s gone.
“No!” I scream.
I scan the room for an answer, but no one’s there, and everything’s still. It was her—I just know it. I run for the front door. Plan or no plan, I’m going to get Elijah back.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
* * *
Stunning and Vicious
I stop to slow my heart rate and examine the imposing trees before taking my first step into the pitch-dark woods. I never thought I’d come here alone.
I pull my cell phone from my hoodie and scroll through the icons until I land on the flashlight. I shine my phone at the forest floor. With each step into the darkness, the damp scent of fallen leaves gets stronger. I keep my eyes trained on the ground to avoid the full view of my surroundings.
A branch smacks me in the face. I touch my stinging cheek. The skin’s raised, and I feel a few droplets of blood. My dream comes rushing back like a slap to the head. In the dream where I scratched my cheek, I saw…a noose and a crow. Sweat forms on my palms. Cotton knew this was going to happen.
I point the light in front of me again and force myself through the trees. What does it mean that he knew? That it’s fated to happen? If it’s fated, how can I stop it? I could just be playing into the pattern, contributing to another century of deaths.
Ahead of me a light flickers. The house. I crouch down and cover my phone with my hand. I’m about to shut it off when I notice the camera icon. I press the video option, and my shoes, surrounded by dark leaves, appear on the screen. I pull out Bradbury’s business card from when he questioned me and snap off my phone case. I tuck the card against the back of my phone before putting the case back on. My conversation with Elijah about public opinion plays in my thoughts.
“Even if I don’t make it through this, I hope that someone finds this video and knows that I tried to stop her. And that I tried to save them,” I whisper at my phone.
I creep toward the light and stop twenty feet from the house. The shadows on the black, decrepit walls look alive in the moonlight. I
study a jagged window for clues of what awaits, but it’s covered with vines.
I step forward and crunch a twig. Panic stabs me, and for a brief second, I hold my breath and listen to the rustling wind. If I don’t do this quickly, I’ll lose my nerve.
I run to the front door and fling it open with a bang. As my feet hit the old wooden floorboards, I take in the large room. It’s not empty anymore. There’s a single stool in the center and a large wooden table covered with jars, candles, and bowls to the right. The fireplace blazes. Near the left wall are four more stools—standing on them are Mary, Alice, Susannah, and Lizzie, nooses around their necks.
Their eyes are closed as though they’re asleep. Is this a trick? There’s no sign of Elijah’s fiancée. Don’t you dare fall before I can get you down. High heels click in the nearby hallway.
I stop so abruptly, it’s as though I slammed into an invisible wall. A familiar wavy-haired shadow appears on the floor. “Vivian?”
She steps gracefully into the room, wearing a dark blue dress and a cloak, as though nothing’s awry. I shake my head at her, trying to will her to disappear. Her body language suggests that she’s in perfect control, the way it always does. In control…I gag. No, I don’t accept this. I don’t want to know this.
I stand frozen, feeling like someone sucker-punched me in the gut. I know you; I live with you. You’re supposed to be some awful stranger.
“We were never people to indulge in our emotions. Why start now?” She moves toward the table strewn with spell ingredients, and her dress swooshes behind her.
I stare at the Descendants and bite my lip hard in an effort to stop the overwhelming sadness that threatens to come. There’s no good way to get all four down at once.
Vivian turns to face me. “If you try to help them, you’ll regret it.” The door slams.
I don’t look at her. Maybe I can drag that other stool over and slip the ropes off their necks. I take a step toward them. The stools start rattling and the girls’ feet vibrate on top of them.
“No!” I yell, looking straight at her now. Vivian was never one to make idle threats. I back away, and the stools stop shaking. Vivian is Elijah’s fiancée. Vivian knows witchcraft. Vivian isn’t Vivian. The idea could choke me. Why did Elijah never recognize her? And where is he? Did she do something to him?
Vivian sorts spell ingredients with the self-assurance that comes through practice.
As I watch her here, in what is clearly her element, my mind struggles to make sense of this. What does it mean for my entire childhood? What does it mean for the time we’ve been in Salem? “Did you cause that rash?”
She nods.
“And you killed John?”
She stops breaking apart dried leaves. “Obviously.”
“Now what? You’ll kill these girls and make it my fault, too?” I can’t hide the hurt in my voice.
“ ‘Hang’ would be more accurate. And that’s up to you.”
I dig my nails into my hand to keep myself from having a breakdown. “I thought Elijah would be here.”
She pauses.
I want to hurt her. I want her to feel just a fraction of what I’m feeling. “Oh, wait. He killed himself to get away from you.”
Anger flashes in her eyes. She moves away from her herbs and grabs my chin with her hand. Her nails dig into my face so hard, I’m sure she’ll break the skin. “I warned you once—you don’t want me for an enemy.”
I set my jaw and stare back at her. She releases me with a push, and I land on the floor.
“This is a business arrangement, Sam. Don’t cry. Don’t beg. Don’t instigate. If need be, I’ll mute you.”
I stand, and rub my jaw where her hand was.
Vivian examines the sleeping Descendants. “I’m going to give you a choice.” Vivian wiggles her fingers, and the stools begin to dance, one after the other.
The girls open their eyes. Confusion, then panic, washes over them as they realize they have nooses around their necks. They desperately try to steady themselves. Mary screams.
Vivian looks at me pointedly. “Which one should we hang?”
The word “we” makes me sick. I look at Lizzie and immediately feel guilty about it. Alice locks eyes with me, her fear quickly turning to accusation. When we did the clarity spell, their ancestors were telling me about their hangings. Cotton didn’t stand up for them. If I have any hope of breaking this chain of accusation and hanging, I have to change that. “Me,” I whisper, and the word sticks. “I choose me.”
Susannah shakes her head. “Samantha, don’t.”
Vivian’s expression goes dark. “You would hang for someone who threw a rock through your window with DIE written on it?”
This catches me off guard. So it was Lizzie. And Vivian knew?
“Of course, she’s been punished,” Vivian says, and by the way she flaunts those words I know I’m not the only one meant to hear them.
Lizzie’s eyes widen. “Punished? Throwing a rock does not equal killing my cousin and paralyzing my brother!” There’s a hysterical edge to her voice. What did Vivian say or do to these girls before I got here?
Vivian flicks her wrist, and Lizzie bends forward in pain. Her footing becomes wobbly as she strains against the rope. In a few seconds, she will slip from the stool. My stomach turns.
“Stop! I choose me! Please stop!”
The stools settle abruptly. “Fine, Sam. If you want to hang, then that is exactly what you’ll get.” Her voice is angry. I don’t understand this at all. What is she after?
I face Vivian. “That rock wasn’t even directed at you.”
“Indirectly, it was.”
Mary sobs, and Vivian wrinkles her nose. “Continue to make that sound, and I’ll tear your vocal cords out.” Mary’s cheeks pale and her mouth closes.
I make eye contact with a fuming Alice, and Vivian returns to her spell ingredients. I can’t bear to look at Susannah. Vivian knows I’ve been spending time with these girls, and now she’s manipulating me with them.
Vivian lifts a cloth-wrapped book off the table. She unwraps it like it has great value. It’s an old leather-bound journal. When she puts it down, I can just make out the feather on the cover.
“When you bring someone back to life, Sam, you need a personal item of theirs.”
My eyes fix on the journal. Elijah told me they had a matching set. I thought this was about revenge. This is about bringing him back to life? Did she lure me here to be part of her spell? The moment I think it, the horrifying truth sets in. She didn’t drag me by my hair because she must need a willing participant. It’s the only way baiting me with the Descendants makes sense.
“This is why we moved to Salem,” I say quietly. Everything I knew about my world is crashing down around me.
She opens a jar of black powder and pinches some with her fingers. “Don’t convince yourself this is personal. This spell took lifetimes to perfect, and you just happen to be the one here for it.”
No one spends years spinning a false relationship if any schmo off the street would do. This is about me specifically. But why? Because I’m a Mather? If I’m the key to bringing Elijah back to life, I could also be the key to unraveling her plan. “How did you figure out the spell?”
For a split second she looks up at me with curiosity, like I’ve said something right. She places a few dried herbs into a worn wooden bowl. “I first succeeded by reversing the death of a crow back in the seventeen hundreds. I didn’t know then that breaking the barrier of death would give me such a great reward—my eternal life.”
It’s as though she were explaining the latest fashion. The familiarity of her voice stabs at my thinning composure. “Why didn’t you bring him back to life, then?”
“I tried.” She stops her mixing.
I move closer to the table to inspect the journal.
She sighs. “It took me centuries to figure out that the reason I could bring that bird back to life was because I was the cause of its death.”<
br />
But she was the cause of Elijah’s death, too, at least indirectly. There’s something I’m missing. She watches me, waiting for me to figure it out. The Descendants watch me, too.
She lifts a small knife. “Give me your right hand.”
I stick my hands in my hoodie pockets and shake my head.
She raises an eyebrow. “Do you imagine for a moment that I won’t make you?”
I reluctantly take my right hand out. My left grips the pendant.
Vivian places my hand over a small bowl. “Repeat these words: ‘I give my blood. I welcome the knife. The soul I took, I call to life.’ ”
I know I shouldn’t. My gut screams at me not to. But if I refuse, she will kill the Descendants. I don’t doubt that. I repeat the spell. Vivian pulls the knife easily over my palm. The blade slices into my skin, and I choke back a whimper. My blood flows in a steady stream into her bowl.
“Do you know what the cause of Elijah’s death was?” she asks.
I force myself to think through the pain. If Vivian wasn’t the direct cause, then it was the town, it was…“The Trials?” I ask through clenched teeth.
She smiles.
She and Cotton couldn’t have started the Trials without each other. That’s why she needs a descendant from Cotton Mather to bring him back. And I just said the words that confirmed my part in her spell. The room spins, and I look away from my hand.
Why me instead of some other Mather?
All the blood drains from my face. I bet she tried other Mathers but it didn’t work. Maybe even my grandmother. The past clicks into place at a sickening speed. She dated my dad to build trust. When she figured out he wouldn’t willingly return to Salem, she put him in a coma. Then I came here willingly. To Salem, to this house in the woods. I offered myself in the place of the Descendants.
She drops my hand, and I pull it to my body, trying to stop the bleeding and trying to shield myself from the intensity of the betrayal. My bottom lip trembles and I bite it. I can’t get lost in my feelings right now or I won’t be able to think clearly. I need to do something she won’t expect. I steal a glance at the journal.
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