Sarah’s throat closed up, this time with gratitude. Shame heated the back of her neck for her unkind thoughts during the ceremony. She’d never been part of a close-knit group before. A brief semester as a member of the French Club in high school hardly counted.
“I’d like that,” she whispered. “Very much.”
Bridget nodded. “All we ask is that everything that happens here, stays here.”
“Of course.”
Rebecca produced a large book from the inside of her long coat. “Will you swear to that on this Book of Shadows?”
Why did Rebecca always have to be such a pain in the ass? She was the one person in the group to whom Sarah couldn’t warm. Her eyes always assessed every situation with cunning, and she used her beauty at every opportunity to manipulate others.
“Done,” she said tersely, biting the inside of her mouth.
Rebecca reached over and placed the book in Sarah’s lap.
Sparks of energy traveled up and down her spine. For the first time in the circle, Sarah experienced a tingle of awareness. Gingerly, she touched the worn book, thick with parchment. Tingles prickled from fingertips to temples. Here was magick.
As if in a court of law, Sarah held up her right hand and placed her left on the ancient book. “I swear to keep all things secret that occur within our circle.”
Did she imagine it, or did Rebecca smirk with some secret satisfaction? She shrugged it off. Rebecca wasn’t worth the worry.
Bridget clapped her hands. “Blessed be. Time for refreshments.”
This time, it was Ann who opened a large tote bag, which the ever-obliging Priscilla had hauled into the woods. “Red wine and lemon cake.”
While Ann cut the cake and poured wine into plastic cups, Sarah carefully opened the book, which looked ready to crumble. The front page had elaborate calligraphy in a metallic ink:
Book of Shadows
Sophia Wisdome
Salem 1693
She gasped. “Where did you get this?”
Everyone stopped talking and gaped at her.
“Give me that back,” Rebecca snapped, snatching it from her hands. “It’s an old family heirloom. Irreplaceable.”
Temper heated her brain. “Then why did you drag it into the woods?”
Rebecca stared at her stupidly. “None of your business.”
“No need for all that,” Ann chided in a soft voice. “Sarah is practically one of us now. And sworn to secrecy. You can tell her the truth.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes and took a deep swallow of wine.
Bridget cleared her throat. “We’ve . . . um . . . borrowed it from the library’s rare book room.”
“Borrowed it?” She couldn’t help the high-pitched squeak in her voice. “Those books are priceless! A part of history. You can’t borrow them.”
“By borrowed, she means stole,” Priscilla offered, always eager to jump in. “And you better not breathe a word of it to anyone. You took a sacred oath.”
Her gut churned. “You all set me up, didn’t you? Is this supposed to be some kind of test?”
“No test,” Bridget said. “We know you won’t break your vow.”
She stared at them, her thoughts jumbled and hot. This felt like betrayal. Her skin itched with the wrongness of it.
“I don’t think I want to join your coven after all.” She stood, accidentally knocking over her plastic cup. Red wine poured like blood on the cold ground.
“Don’t be angry,” Ann said. “We’ll return it tomorrow.”
“Good.” She hesitated. Had she made too big a deal over the stolen book? No harm done if they returned it as they promised. Still . . . the whole thing felt like a trap. Her instincts voted to leave, at once. Her hand palmed the flashlight in her pocket. “I need to get back to the dorm,” she lied. “Tanner’s coming over.”
Priscilla gaffed. “This late? What for?”
Rebecca snorted. “What do you think, dumbass? Only one reason comes to my mind.”
Let them think what they wanted. “Catch you later,” Sarah said, her voice deliberately casual. These weren’t her friends, but she didn’t want them transformed into enemies either. She turned away and started forward on the dark path, the flashlight casting an elliptical beam. Their eyes bored into her back, but no one said anything or tried to stop her.
But no matter how fast and far she walked, Sarah felt a noose tightening around her neck. No good would come of this new moon evening.
5
Tanner popped the tab on his soda and leaned back in his chair. Two hours until quitting time and picking up Sarah for dinner. He’d already texted her that he had news. Should be an interesting evening. Cracking his knuckles, he returned to pecking at the keyboard. Time would go by faster if he busied himself.
As he worked, the hair on his arms and nape of his neck tingled, and he glanced up to find Sarah leaning against the doorway, a wan smile on her face. “You look so handsome, hard at work there,” she said.
Warmth settled in his gut at the unexpected visit, and he walked out from behind his desk. “You just made my afternoon a whole lot better.”
A quick scan up and down the hallway, and he grinned. What luck—his boss and co-workers were safely ensconced in their own offices. He ushered Sarah in and shut the door, quickly pulling her slight body into his and kissing her squarely on the mouth.
Heat speared his groin, as always happened around Sarah. His hands cupped her small, heart-shaped ass. She moaned against his lips and then pushed a few inches away. “Stop,” she said breathlessly. “Someone might come in.”
He took a deep breath, getting a grip. “Right. Sorry. It was just so good to see you pop up unexpectedly that I couldn’t help myself.”
Reluctantly, he opened the door. If they kept kissing, he might not be able to stop. Sarah had that effect of making his mind and body attuned only to desire. He held out a chair for her, and she gracefully sank into it, crossing her legs and eyeing him with smoldering eyes. And yet, the smudge of shadows under those eyes were back.
“You look tired,” he said. “Dreams still bothering you?”
“Yeah, but the reason I didn’t get much sleep last night was different.”
He raised a brow, waiting.
Sarah covered her face in her hands. “I’m such an idiot. I hate even talking about it.”
“Hey, now. Cut it out. You’re the smartest woman I know.” He scooted his chair close to Sarah and gently peeled her hands from her face. “Talk to me.”
“Those girls I thought were my friends . . .” She took a shaky breath. “They aren’t really my friends. They did something bad and tricked me into agreeing not to tell.”
Knew it! “How bad?”
Sarah bit her lip. “Very. I can’t give you the specifics.”
“You can tell me anything.”
“I swore to keep silent.”
Alarm tightened his skin. “Has anyone been hurt?”
“Oh, no. No way.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I’d never stand for it.”
At least there was that. Tanner let out a long, slow exhale. “Are you in any kind of trouble from what they did?”
Sarah waved a hand dismissively. “No. I wasn’t involved in the—” She clamped her mouth shut.
He folded his arms and frowned. If it were just this one incident—but there was also the matter of someone trespassing in her room. “Do you think one of them could be the person ransacking your stuff?”
“I wouldn’t have believed it yesterday morning, but I have to consider it now. They have no respect for property.”
“One, or all of them, could be dangerous. I’m worried about you.”
“I’ll be fine. They were a little cold in our Special Studies class today, but they’ll get over it and move on, find someone else to join their coven.”
Despite her sensible words, Sarah’s lips trembled as she described their brush-off. He wanted to confront each one of those stupid women and give them a pie
ce of his mind, but it would do no good. The damage had been done.
“I’m sorry, Sarah. I know how much you wanted to make friends.”
“There’ll be others. In fact, I’m having lunch with Claudia tomorrow. We have Early American Lit together and like the same kind of books and movies.”
She was taking it better than he’d expected. But then again, she’d learned to be resilient during her early teens. Hopefully, it was the other women who were responsible for messing with Sarah’s things, and now that they’d split, the problems would also disappear.
“Anyway, I dropped by to hear your news,” she said. “What gives?”
He’d have to tread carefully. Sarah was particular about her privacy. “I researched your family’s ancestry and—”
“What?” She half-rose from the chair. “Why did you poke your nose in my family’s history?”
“Relax. It’s not that big a deal.”
“Is too.” She sat, but Sarah was far from relaxed. A storm pooled in her pewter eyes.
“I figured there must be some reason you were singled out for this person’s creepy behavior. You’re so kind to everyone, it made me wonder if there was something in your family tree that made you a target.”
Reluctant curiosity warred with anger on her face. “Go on. What did you find?”
“Not much,” he lied. No sense upsetting her further with the bombshell he’d unearthed. He’d keep that to himself. “Nothing as far as why someone would stalk you. But there may be a reason for the witch trials you dream.”
“I’m listening.”
Suddenly, he doubted himself. She’d think he was a fool. “You’d have to believe that dreams are more than random neurological firings of data.”
“I agree with psychologists. They’re highly symbolic. You aren’t trying to be my shrink, are you?”
“Course not.” He wished he’d never brought the subject up. “Do you see them only as symbols?”
“Get to the point, Tanner.”
“Okay. Have you studied Nathanial Hawthorne yet in Early American Lit?”
She gasped and smiled with wonder. “I’m related to him?”
“Yep.”
Her smile faded. “How does this connect to my dreams, though?”
“Because Nathaniel Hawthorne’s great-great-grandfather, Judge Hathorne, was the only judge in the Salem witch trials not to show remorse for condemning the women. Nathaniel distanced himself from the judge by changing the spelling of his name.”
Sarah rose and paced the office. “I always imagined that if there was a connection, it would be because of a family member that was executed. Not this.”
“It might explain the shame you feel in the dreams.”
“So, according to you, I’m responsible for the sins of an ancestor?” Her voice was flat, overly-neutral.
“You can’t believe I blame you in any way. All I’m saying is that it’s possible that the judge’s sin, or conscience, has found a way to take root inside you.”
She whirled on him. “It’s not fair. I don’t want this.”
“It’s just a theory,” he offered gently. “I only pointed it out as a possibility to explore.”
Sarah returned to the chair and rubbed her temples. “What I need to explore is a way to exorcise the bastard.”
“I’ll check with my folks back home. They might know a spell or a charm to use.”
“Thanks,” she muttered. “But from now on, don’t go poking around in my private business.”
“Agreed,” he promised. “Want to see the ancestry papers?”
“Sure.”
He gathered up the pile of papers by his monitor, careful not to provide Sarah any printouts except the ancestry one. “Here you go.”
Sarah stuffed them in her purse and rose. “Better let you get back to work. Where are—”
A loud knock at the door interrupted her, and Mr. Higginboth appeared. He frowned sternly at Tanner and motioned him out into the hallway. “Back in a minute,” he told Sarah.
When the door was closed behind them, Mr. Higginboth smoothed his hands over the chest of his woolen vest. “It’s against our policy for an employee to close his office door unless there’s an official meeting taking place.”
Old geezer. Bet he never had a hot woman grace his office. “Yes, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“Good boy.” Mr. Higginboth patted his arm as if he were a pet dog. Ugh.
Suppressing his revulsion until his boss had wandered back down the hall, Tanner absently brushed off his sleeve, then walked back in his office and froze.
Sarah held the stack of incriminating papers in her hands. She rounded on him, her creamy face flushed red. “You managed to access my Social Services records?” she yelped.
Damn. He was really in deep.
“How could you do this?” Angry tears threatened to spill from her eyes, and she impatiently swiped a hand across her cheek. “I trusted you.”
“But—”
She karate chopped a hand in the air, cutting him off. “If I want you to know something about me, I’ll tell you. You had no right to go behind my back like this. It’s . . . it’s . . . creepy.”
He inwardly cringed. Shit. She was right. It was creepy and stalker-like and an invasion of her privacy. “You’re right,” he said miserably. “I shouldn’t have. I thought it might help, but I was wrong.”
“Damn it, Tanner.” She threw the papers on his desk. “Shred them. Every last one.”
“I will.”
She stomped past him, and he reached out, touching her arm. He flashed his most charming smile, his never-fail one for the ladies. “Forgive me? Let me make it up to you. Pick anywhere you want to go for dinner tonight.”
“Dinner?” She laughed incredulously. “All I want is a sandwich in my dorm room.” Sarah strode to the door, purse clutched tightly by her side, then glanced back over her shoulder. “Alone,” she blasted, and set her lips in a tight frown. As if he were too stupid to understand her original meaning.
She was gone, leaving behind a ream of papers thrown haphazardly over his desk and floor. Typhoon Sarah had left the building.
As the stairwell door slammed, Mr. Higginboth’s homely face peeked in at him. “Everything alright, Tanner?”
“Just peachy,” he said tightly. “I’ll clean up this mess before I leave.”
His boss nodded and left him in peace.
Was it over? Would Sarah ever speak to him again? Morosely, Tanner flipped on the shredder and fed it the offending documents. Ribbons of cut paper dropped into the wastebasket. He’d ruined everything. And for what?
Zilch.
He’d managed to piss off the sweetest, sexiest girl on the planet. Tanner dropped his head in his hands, as despondent as he’d ever been in his life.
Blood and guts dripped from the mouse pinned to the dorm door. The dead rodent was pinned by a rusty steak knife.
Sarah clamped a hand over her mouth as the bile rose at the back of her throat. If she looked at the disgusting mess another moment, her lunch would be splattered on the hall’s concrete floor. She ran downstairs and found the RA, a senior in charge of handling minor matters at Clara Hall. Sarah wasn’t sure if a dead, skewered mouse was in the RA’s purview, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, clean up the blood mess alone.
The RA rang the maintenance guy, and they rushed to Sarah’s room. A hushed group of stunned students gathered in the hallway by her dorm.
Sarah dragged her feet, not wanting to face anyone—the questioning stares, the pitying eyes, the murmuring gossip.
“Who’s responsible for this?” the RA demanded.
No one spoke.
“Somebody must have seen something,” she insisted.
Sarah leaned against a wall, staring down at her feet. In the utter silence, the swish of a mop and wringing water made her shudder.
“There’s going to be an investigation,” the RA vowed. “I’m going back to my room. If any of you want to
talk to me in private about this, you know where to find me.” She passed Sarah in the hall and patted her arm. “Sorry, kid. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”
A hard elbow shoved against her side. “That was so gross,” Rebecca drawled. “Poor Sarah.”
Her cherry red lips smirked. Had she ever thought at one time that Rebecca was pretty? And that she was a vain, inconsequential sort of girl? All Sarah could see now was the ugliness of her heart. How deeply cruel did her nature run?
“You did it,” Sarah accused. “You and the others. Was this a warning to keep my mouth shut?”
Rebecca shrugged. “Think what you will.”
Sarah dropped her voice, conscious of the curious stares around them. “Leave me alone. I haven’t said a word. But if you harass me again, game’s over.”
She didn’t wait for Rebecca’s reaction. Pushing through the crowd, she dug her key out of her purse.
“Excuse me,” she murmured to the older man with the unfortunate task of cleaning the door. He gazed at her with pitying eyes as she fumbled with the key and unlocked the door.
Inside, she fell across her bed and hugged a pillow to her chest. First Tanner, and now this.
She wanted to run away. Somewhere warm and safe. But the sad truth was that there was no place to run to. WCS was her home for the next four years unless she transferred or dropped out of college.
Oh, hell no. Those bitches weren’t going to force her to abandon her dream so quickly. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Surely this would all die down soon. They’d see she wouldn’t rat on their theft, and then they’d leave her alone.
Alone.
If only she and Tanner hadn’t argued earlier, she could call him. He always knew just what to say to lift her spirits. Her face burned all over again, remembering how he’d checked up on her and meddled in her business. She hated for anyone to read the miserable details of the last few years of her transient life. It only made people feel sorry for her, and that was the last thing she wanted.
Sarah rose from the bed and pulled out her journal from its current hiding place in the bottom of her closet. At least nobody had messed with it lately. She sat at her desk with pen in hand, but it was no use. Her former pleasure at writing out her feelings was gone for now. Why spill her guts when there was a chance someone might read her secret words?
Charmed by the Salem Witch: A Witch Romance (Appalachian Magic Series Book 3) Page 5