Salem's Revenge Complete Boxed Set

by David Estes

  “I know that,” Laney says. “But the Reaper doesn’t. He probably thinks there’s still a chance to get you on his side. You’re part of his master plan, after all.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  Laney taps her fingers on the bars, making a metallic tinging sound. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot. You’re not as…susceptible to…magic,” she says slowly, deliberately.

  “I’ve just had a lot of practice,” I say. “I’ve fought a lot of witches and it’s my job to be stronger.”

  “Maybe,” she says, but just from her tone I can tell she’s not convinced.

  “Rhett,” a voice says. Mr. Jackson—I mean, the Reaper—steps in front of my cell, startling me. I hadn’t even heard him approach. “It sounds like you’re ready to talk.”

  His hood is thrown back, his short gray hair framing his dark face. Although his wrinkled skin still makes him look grandfatherly, he doesn’t fool me. Not anymore. I can still feel the bruises from training with him months ago.

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I say.

  “You got that right,” Laney says.

  “Hello, Laney,” he says.

  “How do you know my name?” Laney says.

  “While I’ve been searching for Rhett, I’ve been searching for you, too,” the Reaper says.

  “Bullcrap,” Laney says, but there’s a hint of uncertainty behind it.

  The Reaper is silent. He looks at me with that same compassionate expression he tricked me with so long ago.

  “I won’t listen to anything else you have to say until you tell us why you’ve been hunting the two of us,” I say, trying to throw as much of my old rebelliousness into my words. If nothing else, Mr. Jackson knows how stubborn I can be.

  “Of course,” Mr. Jackson says, which surprises me, because normally he’s equally stubborn and a hundred times less forthcoming with information. “We’ll start with Laney, would that be all right?”

  I can’t see her, but I think Laney provides her response in some form of an inappropriate gesture, because Mr. Jackson says, “I know you’re angry.”

  “You don’t know anything,” Laney says.

  “I wish that were true,” Mr. Jackson says.

  “You’re not Xave’s father,” I say.

  “We can talk about all that later,” he says. Turning to wherever Laney is—in the cell next to me, I think—he says, “You need to help us find your sister.”

  “Why?” Laney snaps.

  “She’s in danger,” he says.

  “Ha! From you maybe,” Laney says. “Who else would she be in danger from?”

  “Powerful witches who want to use her considerable talents for evil. We have reason to believe she’s the last Claire.”

  “Her name’s Trish,” I say.

  “Not Claire like the name,” Mr. Jackson says, taking on his lecturer’s tone. “Claire like the shortened version of Clairvoyant. One of the most powerful witch gangs out there. We’d thought the Pyros destroyed them all in the first few months when they had their massive territorial feud, but we think…Trish…might’ve slipped through the cracks.”

  “My parents were Pyros,” Laney says.

  “The magical abilities of the parents don’t necessarily dictate what their offspring become,” Mr. Jackson says. “Take you, for example. You’re human.”

  “Thank God,” Laney says. “I won’t help you with my sister,” she adds.

  “She’s in serious danger,” Mr. Jackson says. “They’ll try to turn her.”

  “Riiight,” Laney says. “You’re the only one who’s trying to—”

  “Wait,” I say, jumping in. “We might be able to do something.”

  “Carter!” Laney protests. “Shut your mouth before—”

  “You shut it for me. I know, I know. Just hear me out. Xavier was down here earlier. He said some interesting things. Things that made me question my view of the world. You have to give us time—both of us. We need to understand before we make a decision.” I’m proud when I realize how convincing my words come out.

  “Rhett, I…” Mr. Jackson says. “I’ve made many mistakes, but all I’ve ever wanted to do was keep my promise to your father.”

  “You really knew my father?” Although I’m acting, I’m surprised to find my heart leaping slightly. If only this one part of Mr. Jackson’s story was real. If only.

  “Yes,” Mr. Jackson says. “He was a good man. A good warlock. He and I were part of a small and secret group within the witch council. We fought against Salem’s Revenge for many years. Our wives, too. It cost your father and both our wives their lives. I was lucky to survive.”

  This is all too much. Too freaking much. But I can’t let him stop here. If any of this is true, I have to know. “My real parents were killed by…”

  “Yes. The head of the witch council arranged it all. Made it look like an accident. But I knew it wasn’t, just like I knew my wife’s death wasn’t. First her, then your mother, then your father. But before your father was murdered, he made me promise to watch over you. I promised him I would, and promised myself I would protect my son, Xavier, too, in the best way I knew how.”

  Despite the fact that I know this man is a liar, something about what he’s saying makes too much sense. It does explain a lot. “You abandoned us to foster care,” I say.

  “Getting you two away from me was the only way to protect you,” he says sadly. “I was in the throes of the biggest battle of my life, and my enemies would use any weapon they could against me. They’d already proven that.”

  “But you lived so close,” I say.

  “Yes,” he says. “As you were handed from foster family to foster family, I watched from afar. I protected you where I could.”

  I can’t stop the sarcastic laugh from escaping my lips. “Oh yeah? Where were you when Big Hank was beating the living crap out of me and your so-called son?”

  Mr. Jackson winces slightly. “I was afraid they were watching me. That they’d see me protect you and Xave and that they’d realize who you were. That they’d kill you. But eventually I couldn’t stand watching the abuse any longer.”

  My heart dips. “Wait. What?”

  “I killed him,” Mr. Jackson says.

  “No,” I say. “His wife did. It was her gun. Her fingerprints.”

  “She was so drugged out half the time she didn’t know what she was doing,” Mr. Jackson says. “I wore gloves, used her gun. I shot him in the head. He got what he deserved.”

  Oh man oh man oh man. I cross my arms defiantly, but really I’m hugging myself, trying to hold it together.

  “If Laney’s here because of Trish, why am I here?” I ask. “Just because of some promise you made to my father?”

  Mr. Jackson’s eyes brighten and I hate that it sends an exhilarating thrill through my blood because that’s the way he always looked when I mastered something new in training. “You are one of only a handful of known humans who seem to have a natural resistance to magic,” he says.

  I stare at him. Laney was right. So right. Then that means… “I’m not a warlock,” I say.

  “No.”

  “But magic can’t hurt me?” I say.

  Mr. Jackson smiles. “Not exactly. Like anyone else, magic has great power over you, but unlike everyone else—including magic-born—the strength of your will plays a major role in how effective that magic is on you. You’re a powerful weapon.”

  “I—I don’t understand,” I say. But I do. Or at least, sort of. What Mr. Jackson just said explains so many mysteries. How I’ve managed to resist the wiles of the Sirens, why I didn’t die at the hands of the magic-poisoned arrow, how I fought off the hallucinatory magic of Flora’s warlock guards.

  Mr. Jackson’s eyes twinkle, but he doesn’t say anything. Surprisingly, Laney is silent, too, perhaps shocked at how close to the truth she was.

  “But I’m human?” I say. I have to confirm it one last time.

  “Yes,” Mr. Jackson says. “We ca
ll those like you Resistors.”

  “There are others like me?”

  “Only three that we know of.” Mr. Jackson’s eyes never leave me, but that doesn’t mean anything when it comes to a professional liar like him.

  “Who?”

  “You, a girl who we think is working with the Changelings, and a friend of yours. Bil Nez.”

  I blink. Why does that guy’s name keep popping up? “He wants to kill me, right?” I ask, rolling my eyes.

  “I don’t know,” Mr. Jackson says, which confounds me. Is he lying? I was so sure he’d been the one to send the Siren down to warn me about Bil.

  “Uh…” I say, buying time to think, my mind spinning like a Tilt-a-Whirl.

  Laney, unfortunately, spills the beans. “But that Siren said Bil Nez was supposed to kill Carter. Maybe the two of you should get your stories straight.”

  “The Siren?” Mr. Jackson says, and I almost enjoy seeing the astonishment on his face. “She spoke to you?”

  I nod and tell him what the Siren said, watching his expression carefully. As usual, his face doesn’t give away his thoughts. When I finish, Mr. Jackson says, “Although the Siren cannot be trusted, she told you the truth in this instance.”

  “Wait,” Laney says. “You’re admitting that the Siren, who’s working for you, is a liar?”

  “I’m not sure,” Mr. Jackson says. “She’s supposed to be our spy within New America. She’s been pretending to work for President Washington, while feeding us information. She’s the one who warned us of the missile attack on Pittsburgh, allowing us to move here and set up our wards. Without her, we’d all be dead.”

  “Then why don’t you trust her?” I ask.

  “She’s missing,” Mr. Jackson says.

  “She was just here,” I say.

  “And now she’s missing. She took off. We’ll find her.”

  What next? Will Mr. Jackson tell me the Siren is my real mom? Things are already getting too crazy and confusing. “I don’t understand. So Bil is on a New America mission to kill me? Why would they want to kill me if I can resist witches? Wouldn’t they want me on their side?”

  “They believe you’ve gone rogue, because of your friendship with Xave, who, as my son, is the second most powerful Necromancer. Bil is working with President Washington and has been charged with killing you, but we’re not sure where his true loyalties lie. We’re still holding out some hope that he’ll join us when he finds out we’ve got you on our side.”

  “Join you,” I laugh. “He’ll never join you and neither will I.”

  Mr. Jackson sighs. “You said you’d listen. The other two sides want to take you out of the equation, and I just want to keep you safe.”

  “What sides?” I say, already feeling like the last few hours will bring on information overload, causing my brain to explode.

  “There are three,” Mr. Jackson says, scratching his chin. “First, New America, who seeks to control the world and wipe every last witch gang from the face of the earth.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” Laney chimes in, earning her a glare from Mr. Jackson.

  “Second, the other witch gangs, who wish for chaos and bloodshed. Those gangs hate humans with every breath. Killing them is their life mission.”

  “And the third group?” I say, growing impatient, just like I always used to when Mr. Jackson would lecture me about the various witch gangs, providing information in that slow, methodical way of his.

  “Us,” he says. “The Necros and our allies, who seek to find a peaceful resolution, allowing both witch and humankind to live together in harmony.”

  “Bullcrap,” Laney says, disguising her opinion in a cough.

  “And how do you propose reaching this so-called peaceful resolution?” I ask, genuinely curious.

  “By killing all who oppose us,” Mr. Jackson says.

  “You’re completely nuts,” Laney says. “That makes no sense.”

  Mr. Jackson shakes his head. “If only the world still made sense. Unfortunately, the enemy we’re fighting won’t stop until they’re dead.”

  When my fists clench, Mr. Jackson says, “I know I’m a harder person than you want me to be, Rhett. I know I’ve let you down. But this world has left its mark on all of us, myself included.”

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Hours slip into days.

  Xave visits every day, sometimes alone, sometimes with Felix. He seems so…happy. When he’s alone I try to argue with him, to change his way of thinking, but he’s convinced the Reaper’s his father and that he’s part of a great cause. When his boyfriend’s with him, I just listen and observe. Felix is so perfect…too perfect. Everything he does is for Xave. Although I’ve always believed my friend would be a great catch for some guy, Felix just doesn’t seem like the type to go for a guy like Xave. I don’t trust him.

  Mr. Jackson hasn’t visited again since the first time.

  They give us food and drinks, and eventually pillows and mattresses. My small cell even has a proper toilet in one corner and a shower in the other. It’s not the Shangri-La, but we’re not roughing it either.

  “They’re trying to slowly make us think of them as generous,” Laney says. “They’re trying to brainwash us.”

  “I know,” I say, but I can’t help enjoying the way my head sinks into the pillow, as opposed to the neck-breaking stone floor.

  Every time Xave visits, I ask about Beth, and every time he pretends he doesn’t hear me. I never raise my voice. Keep playing the game, Laney and I tell each other when we’re alone. Good cop, bad cop. You can guess who’s the bad cop.

  “How’s your bore of a boyfriend?” Laney asks when Xave arrives alone for his daily visit.

  He ignores the jab. “He’s working today.” The way he says it makes it sound so normal, like he’s waiting tables or something. As it turns out, Felix is a Warden, one of the warlocks maintaining the protective wards around Heinz Field. If those wards ever get broken, New America’s missiles can destroy everything.

  I’ve had enough of the play-acting. It’s time to get real. “How did you and Felix meet?” I ask casually.

  Xave’s eyes light up. “Father introduced us. Felix has been working with Father from the beginning. He knew it was the right thing to do.” His words make me want to gag, but they also make me realize: All those times Mr. Jackson went out and wouldn’t tell me where he was going or what he was doing, he was probably recruiting witches and warlocks to his supposed cause, setting things up remotely. The thought only makes me feel like even more of a pawn in this whole game.

  “Felix sounds like a great guy,” Laney says sarcastically.

  “If you’d bother to get to know him, you’d see what I see,” Xave says definitively.

  I have to try. “Xave, don’t you think it’s a little strange that Mr. Jackson—I mean, your father—introduced you to him and he fell so hard for you right away?”

  The moment the words leave my lips, I know I’ve struck a chord, but it’s too late to take it back.

  Moisture fills Xavier’s eyes. “You don’t know anything, Rhett! You never believed I’d find someone so perfect for me, and now that I have…now that I’m happy…you’re jealous! Well, I’m not going to let you spoil everything that’s good in my life. I’ve got a family here. A real father, a boyfriend. All I wanted was for you to see that and be a part of it.”

  I open my mouth to apologize, to try to make things right, but he’s already storming away. “When did you become so cruel?” he fires over his shoulder.

  “That went well,” Laney says when Xave’s gone.

  And although I feel bad that I hurt his feelings, I manage a weak smile because of what I saw in my friend’s tear-filled eyes before he left:

  Hatred of the truth.

  ~~~

  Mr. Jackson shows up a day later.

  I’ve got a million questions, but he holds up a hand before I can ask them. “You hurt my son’s feelings,” he says.

  “He’s n
ot your son,” I say.

  “He is,” Mr. Jackson says, exasperation in his breathy tone and the slump of his shoulders. “And I care about you both. The last thing I want is for the two of you to become enemies.”

  “Where have you been?” I say. “If you cared about me, why have you left us down here so long?” He’s about to answer, but I cut him off. “And don’t say ‘for your own protection.’”

  He raises an eyebrow. “I’d forgotten how difficult you can be. You’re not that unlike your mother. She was a proud woman.”

  I cringe, but I feel something swell within my chest. “Don’t pretend like you knew her.”

  “I’m not going to lie to you,” he says. “Not anymore.”

  I sigh. “Fine. Then I have some questions.”

  “Shoot.”

  “What happened to Beth?”

  “Like I said, I won’t lie to you. But that doesn’t mean I’ll answer all of your questions either.”

  “Shocking,” I say. “Then I’m not going to waste my breath.”

  “Rhett,” he says, and I hate how familiar it sounds, as if he has the right to say my name. “I’m not the enemy.”

  “Is Beth alive?” I ask, hating the silence that always hangs after I ask the question.

  “Let’s talk about something else,” he says, looking away.

  I almost explode with frustration. “Okay, you want to talk about something else? What part did you play in Salem’s Revenge?”

  Mr. Jackson’s eyes dart back to mine. I expect another refusal to answer, but he surprises me. “I was part of the group of witch leadership in charge of considering the witch rebellion,” he says. “I had…reservations about the whole thing. I was one of only a few leaders that wasn’t in support of a large-scale rebellion.”

  “Lies,” Laney chirps.

  “And my parents were also on your side?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “As if,” Laney says.

  “So then what happened?” I ask.

  “We made enemies. Powerful enemies. This was all happening shortly after you and Xavier were born.”

  “So that’s why you and my parents were siding with the humans?” I scoff. “Because you were cursed with human children.”