Mark of the Witch (Boston Witches)

by Jessica Gibson

  Her husband Jack found her curled up in a ball on their bed when he came home a few hours later. “Caroline? Caroline, what’s wrong, are you hurt?” he screamed as he rushed to her side. He reached out and touched her cheek, and she recoiled immediately.

  “Don’t touch me!” she spat out.

  He took a step back; the venom in her voice surprised him. “What’s going on?” he asked as he sat on the bed next to her. She looked at him, her eyes puffy and red from hours of crying.

  “I know about Carrie,” she said numbly.

  All of the color drained from his face. “What do you mean? Who’s Carrie?” he asked in a voice that did not sound like his own.

  Caroline leapt from the bed and ran out to the computer. Jack heard the sound of the printer humming as it worked. She returned a moment later and threw a stack of papers at him. They were all emails to him from Carrie.

  “How long has this been going on?” she shouted. He said nothing, just stared down at the paper in his hands. “How long?” she screamed.

  “Over a year” he whispered.

  “A year? You’ve been cheating on me for a year?” she screamed hysterically. She wanted to wake up; this had to be a dream. She paced in front of the bed. “Do you love her?”

  He looked up at her, tears in his eyes. “I don’t know if I do. It never was supposed to be this way. She was just a friend; something happened along the way. I’m so sorry, Car, I love you so much. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.”

  She glared at him. “You’re a bastard, Jack. You’ve been cheating on me for a year, and you have the audacity to tell me you love me. You can go straight to hell for all I care. You need to leave now; I can’t look at you right now.”

  He started to protest, but she just walked out of the room. She could hear him on his phone in the other room, the tears evident in his voice. She didn’t know who he was talking to; she assumed it was Carrie, but she didn’t have any emotion left in her to care. She waited until she heard the front door close before she came out of the kitchen.

  She thought about her options. She could stay here in this apartment with Jack. Her throat felt like it was suddenly way too tight; the walls of the apartment seemed to close in on her. She went and splashed water on her face and grabbed a few suitcases from the closet. She threw clothes into the three suitcases she had set out and scribbled out a note telling Jack she was leaving. She knew she couldn’t look at his face again for a while. She told him she’d call him when she was ready, and to leave her alone.

  She called downstairs for the doorman to help her with her suitcases and left the apartment in a hurry. Once she was in the car, she didn’t know where to go. She had plenty of friends in the city that she could stay with, but she didn’t want to risk seeing Jack again until she was ready. Before she realized it, she was on the freeway, headed to Boston. Caroline was going home.

  *

  Jilly turned back to her computer and pulled up the order forms for the salon, and then grabbed the stylist’s orders for color and products for their stations off of the mountain that was her inbox. As she was mindlessly ordering what she needed for the next month, she was also mentally going over what she needed to pick up from Bewitched, the little occult store around the corner. She had a few spells and one more charm she needed to make by next week and one of the spells would take about four days to prepare for.

  Jillian Proctor was descended from one of the most powerful witches that lived in Salem in the late 1600s. Her mother had told her that all the women in their family were witches; some just chose to ignore their powers instead of embracing them. Jilly’s sister Caroline was one such witch: she refused to accept her powers, and she would walk out of the room any time their mother said anything pertaining to the occult. Their mother was heartbroken when it came time for her to start them on their training and Caroline refused to even listen.

  So it had just been Jilly’s training since Caroline refused to take part. Those had always been Jilly’s favorite times with her mother, when it was just the two of them. That was when her mother showed her the family grimoire. It was a book that held all of the spells and charms the witches in their family had known for centuries. Any time one of them would create a new spell or charm, a new page would appear in the book. Jilly always wondered how that happened. Her mother had always said that the grimoire was a part of us, so it just knew. She missed her mom so much sometimes; she felt the familiar ache in her chest, wondering what her life would have been like had her mother lived.

  Jilly shook her head to clear her mind of the memories and got back to the task at hand.

  Fifteen minutes later, Jilly emerged from her office, tools in hand, and went to set up her station in preparation for her first client. Just as she was finishing up, she heard the bell chime and Tanya’s warm greeting. She gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror while she finished tying the strings of her apron and went to greet her first client.

  The next few hours flew by. As Jilly was on her way to greet her next client, Emily popped over to tell Jilly she was heading over to her house. Jilly touched her arm and told her to wait for her at the house because she had something to discuss with her.

  Emily raised an eyebrow and said, “Anything I should be concerned about?”

  Jilly put on an overly bright smile and said, “No, of course not; I just need to go over something with you about one of our clients.”

  Emily knew that “client” did not mean someone from the salon and nodded her head on her way out.

  Jilly’s last client was new to her; he was a referral from one of her older clients. The new client was William Morgan. He had just moved back to town recently, and his Aunt Adelle told him to come see her. He was tall, dark and definitely handsome, with curly black hair that was just a little bit unruly, deep green eyes that a girl could just lose herself in for all of eternity, and a lopsided grin that could melt even the coldest of hearts. As Jilly walked him back to her chair, she felt her nerves jumping a bit under her skin. Once he was draped in a cape, she asked “Ok, so what am I doing for you today?” Her eyebrows raised with the question.

  “Well, as you can see, it’s been a little while since my last cut, so just clean me up and make me look human again,” he said with a grin.

  “Oh, I don’t think it’s all that bad,” Jilly said with a twinkle in her eye, “but we’ll get you taken care of in no time.”

  She picked up her scissors and comb and worked her way methodically through the haircut. She was very aware of the closeness of his body. She felt like tiny zaps of electricity were jumping from his body to her own. She wondered if he felt it too, or if she was just being a crazy girl who got flustered when a handsome man smiled at her. Once she was finished, she handed him a mirror so he could check her work.

  With a smile he said, “Jilly, you are amazing, I feel like I can join the human race again.” She smiled at him as she took off his cape.

  “Well, it looks like we’re all done here. Let me walk you up front and Tanya will take care of you.”

  They walked up front. Jilly thanked him for coming in, and was about to walk back to clean up when he suddenly grabbed her hand. She felt like she had been struck by lightning. By the look on his face, she could tell he felt it too. He was visibly shaken and he dropped her hand as he asked, “When can I see you again?” He was staring at her wrist as she rubbed it absently.

  “Well, usually it’s between four and six weeks for men’s haircuts, but if you want to come in sooner, Tanya will set up an appointment for you.” Jilly said quickly as she hurried back to her station to clean up for the day.

  She could hear Tanya giving him his total and asking if he would like to set up another appointment in six weeks. He said, “No, I’ll call when I need to come in again.” And he rushed out of the salon.

  Jilly tried to put him out of her mind as she cleaned her station; she looked at her watch and saw that it was about 5:10P.M.

  “
Tanya, I’m leaving; I’m going to be off the next few days so if anyone calls, just tell them I’ll be back on Friday,” Jilly called out from her office as she was gathering her things to go.

  Once she was in her car, she let out a big sigh and sat for a minute. What was that all about, she thought as she started the car.

  She drove home on autopilot, and was in her driveway before she knew it. She raced up the stone steps that led to her front door and quickly went inside, eager to talk to Emily about what had happened and about what they needed to do the next few days.

  Emily, who was sleeping on the couch, woke up when Jilly came through the door. “Sorry,” she said groggily, “I must have dozed off while I was waiting. I checked your charm; it was doing fine; it’s still bubbling quite a bit, so you’ll need to wait at least an hour before you can bottle it anyway.”

  “Ok, thanks for checking it for me,” Jilly said in a dazed sort of way that made Emily look at her with narrowed eyes.

  “All right, out with it, what’s going on? Why do you have that weird look on your face, and why are you talking in that dreamy voice?” Emily asked bluntly.

  “I just had the weirdest experience,” Jilly said, and told her what had happened with William.

  “Oh, was he that hunky guy who was coming in as I was leaving?” she asked.

  “Yeah, that was him. It was just so weird, I’ve never experienced anything like that. And I could tell he hadn’t either, by the look on his face. I don’t know what to make of it.”

  “Maybe it was just a fluke?” Emily questioned.

  “No, I felt something weird while I was cutting his hair too; it was almost like we were connected by electricity or something. Oh well, we’ll figure it out later. Right now we need to talk about the summoning spell Rosemarie Phillips wants us to do on Thursday. I think I have most of what we’ll need for it; let’s go in the kitchen and make a list of what I don’t have.”

  As she walked into the kitchen, Jilly grabbed the grimoire off the chest. Emily got up with a slight groan and followed Jilly into the kitchen.

  Emily was seated at the counter on a high backed bar stool, drinking a cup of milk with a plate of cookies in front of her and the grimoire opened to the correct page. Jilly was in the pantry, grabbing the ingredients Emily was reading off to her and writing down the ones they still needed. “You know, I really think you should bring your grimoire over too next time; this is a complicated spell; we can use all the help we can get,” Jilly said, poking her head out of the pantry.

  “I don’t know why you think we’ll need it. Mine is more of a cookbook with some herbal remedies than an actual grimoire. You know my family has always been more on the lighter side when it comes to power,” Emily said in between bites. Her family had a rich legacy filled with healers and charm makers dating back to the sixteenth century.

  “Don’t disparage your talents, Em. I think you’re brilliant,” Jilly said with gusto. She had always admired how Emily could heal anything just by touching it. “Ok. So it looks like the only things we’ll really need are sage and penny-royal. I think I can go over to Bewitched tomorrow morning before Finola Graham comes over.”

  “Well, if we’re all done, I need to get going. I told Adam I’d be home by seven and I still need to stop at the store.” Emily hopped off the chair and went to grab her coat, and Jilly walked her to the door.

  “I’m going to call Tanya in a minute and have her take you off the books until Friday too; I think it’s just Thursday you were still on, so she can just reschedule any clients until Friday or Monday. I really think I’ll need the extra hands on Thursday morning getting everything ready.”

  Jilly gave Emily a hug and watched until she was in her car before closing the door.

  Chapter 2

  The wind had turned cold, and the trees were blowing, making it look like it was snowing orange leaves. Jilly opened the back door and stepped out onto the porch, breathing in the cold air. Fall was her favorite season; she loved when the leaves changed color. She stooped down to the woodpile she had next to the porch steps and gathered an armful before going back into the house. Once she had a fire going to warm the kitchen, she set about bottling up the contents of the cauldron. It had shrunk down in size to about a cup and a half, and she easily got it all in one bottle. She put a stick of wax in the flame of the fire and sealed up the cork at the top, and then clearly labeled the contents with one of the premade labels she had with her name and phone number at the bottom of them. She picked up the bottle, grabbing a bag, the instruction sheet, and a white angelica candle, and carefully packed them up and set them by the door.

  With the task at hand done, she sat down in the big comfy chair by the fire with the grimoire. She opened it to the front page; it had a family tree dating way back to the 1400s. So many powerful witches in her family line, the most powerful to date being Liza and Mary, twins from the late 1600s. She carefully traced the lines of it down to her own name, which was just under her grandmother and mother’s names. She missed them so much it hurt sometimes.

  It had been over ten years since they both died. They had been on a trip together in Ireland, and there was an accident. Jilly could still remember that horrible phone call and the look on her dad’s face when he told her.

  She sat in the chair until the fire burned down and only the embers were glowing. She finally got up, made herself a sandwich and went into her room to eat while she watched some TV and got ready for bed. She was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

  Jilly opened her eyes and was in an unfamiliar room—well, not really; the room itself was the same, but everything in it was different. She looked down at herself and she was wearing one of those old-fashioned nightgowns that buttoned way up the neck and came down to her ankles. She jumped out of bed and let out a yelp when her bare feet hit the ice-cold wood floor, and quickly jumped onto the rug. She heard footsteps outside in the hall, and they came to a stop outside her door. A woman who looked like she could have been her mother’s twin sister came in, walked over to the bed, and sat down.

  She turned to Jilly and said, “Now you know how it feels to lose someone too. Now I suppose we’re even.” Her eyes were full of fury as she spoke.

  “I—I’m,” Jilly started to say, but didn’t quite know what to say.

  The girl grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the window. “Look, there he is he’s just leaving after his argument with father. Watch him go Liza, for this is the last you will see of him,” she said in a voice as cold as ice.

  Jilly pressed her face to the window and watched the man walking down the driveway towards his carriage. Just as he reached the door, he turned and looked up into the window. When she saw his face, Jilly felt as though a shard of ice was shoved into her chest: the man looking up at her was William Morgan. His face was sadness itself. It looked as though his heart had been ripped out as he clutched his chest looking at her. How is this possible, she thought? She must have fainted; everything went black and when she opened her eyes again, she was back in her room lying in bed.

  What was that all about? she wondered to herself as she got out of bed.

  The grimoire was just where she left it on the chair by the fireplace; she snatched it up and put it on the counter on her way to the coffee pot. She glanced at the clock on the microwave as she was grabbing the coffee filters out of the cabinet. The time read 8:30 A.M.; she still had an hour and a half before Finola would be over. Coffee mug in hand, she sat on a bar stool and opened the grimoire to the first page. Starting at the top, she began to trace the names down until she reached a branch that held two sisters named Mary and Elizabeth Proctor. The date next to their birth was 1675 they were twins, and the most powerful witches in the family. I wonder what they’re trying to tell me, Jilly thought to herself as she drank her coffee.

  She snatched the phone off the wall and punched in Emily’s number. After the third ring, Emily’s husband Adam picked up, sounding a little sleepy.

&n
bsp; “I’m so sorry, Adam, did I wake you up?”

  “No—well, yes, but I needed to get up for work anyway. Let me grab Em for you,” he said. Jilly heard him walking out of the room and handing the phone to Emily.

  “Hey, Jill, what’s up?” she asked.

  With a sigh, Jilly dove right in and explained her dream. “What do you think it means? Why did that man have William’s face?”

  “I don’t know, Jill. Do you think it was just a dream, or do you think you were actually seeing the past?” Emily asked her.

  Jilly thought for a moment before saying, “I don’t know, but it’s not unheard of for the women in my family to be shown things in our dreams. Plus, if we’re talking about Mary and Liza, it wouldn’t surprise me that they want to help me.”

  “Do you think William has ancestors dating back that far in Boston?” Emily asked, and Jilly heard the tap of her fingers on the counter.

  “I don’t know, Em. It almost looked like it was him I was seeing and not just someone who looked like him. I need to do a bit more research on his family tree before I decide if I want to talk to him or not,” Jilly said as she was walking back into her room to get ready for the day.

  “Ok, well let me know if you need any help or tell me what you find out. I have some errands to run in town today before I come over; why don’t I just get what we need at Bewitched? There’s no need for you to make the trip if I’m already out,” Emily offered.

  *

  Thirty minutes later Jilly emerged from her room, ready to face the day. She left her hair down today, and it was curling wildly down her back. The doorbell rang as she was coming down the front stairs that led out into the living room.