by E. M. Moore
She opened her eyes and saw the moon and the stars. A tear leaked out before she shut them again.
Hard footsteps raced up the stairs, and Mrs. Shipton began to scream. Two men halted her, grabbing her shoulders. “Stop,” Mr. Ludington ordered. “I want her to watch. Then she can see what she is about next.”
The pathetic woman dropped to her knees. “Oh no, please. Please, no.”
Isabella opened her eyes and looked around. A crowd gathered in a circle around her. Men, women, and children she all knew by name. They used to stop to talk with her before the weather changed, and the crops failed, and the witches were found. Before this, they were neighbors and friends. They were nice and agreeable. Now, they stood over her, repulsed, angry, mouths tight and eyes narrowed and leveled at her.
A rumble started from the back. “Witch!” someone called.
Isabella winced.
“Blasphemer.”
“Die you unholy creature.”
“May Satan save you now!” Mrs. Ludington screeched before pelting her with a handful of stones.
Isabella shut her eyes, flinching away. Two more men broke the circle and carried a trunk of an old pine and laid it next to her.
Mr. Ludington hauled her up by the shoulders and propped her next to the dead tree. “You two, tie her up.” Limp Isabella stilled, her heart frozen on a single beat. No one moved toward her.
“Thomas…Tie. Her. Up.”
“What about her trial?” Mrs. Shipton screamed.
“Silence!” Magistrate Ludington cried. “There will be no trial. Evidences in this instance were plenty. Isabella Lynne has been seen in the woods at night, not only once, not only twice, but on numerous occasions. We found ingredients for her potions. She bewitched my son! We will not honor the direct descendant of Satan with a trial.”
Feet shuffled toward her and she squeezed her eyes tight, not wanting to see Thomas. She did not want to cry out. She did not want to whimper or whine. If she were to see him, she would do all of them at once. Instead, she grasped hold of the memory of his face when they stole the kiss in her room, or when he met her in the barn for the first time. Surely their love was not blasphemous.
Thomas. Her Thomas.
She wondered which hands that touched her were his. They were both rough, forcing her arms behind her, the rope digging into the flesh of her wrists and burning as it was tugged across her. Then came her feet. The rope snaked in and out, around her ankles and the log and when they pulled it tight, she clenched her teeth to drown out a cry.
None of her body lay on the ground anymore. It suspended in air, her head slightly higher than her feet and she moved now, jostled about on the rounded log. The knots of the rope held her tight. It gave her no room to move her wrists or ankles. If she were to think about escape, hope for escape, it would only be a cruel thought as it was not possible.
The journey was short. Her head knocked against the wood as they swung her up. She fell forward slightly, only as much room as her arms gave her. Her shoulders seared in pain as the weight of her body hung against it.
She tried to straighten her legs to release the pressure on her arms, but it did not work. Her eyes firmly shut, she flinched as objects struck her. Some pierced her skin, others bounced off and left bolts of pain flowing through her. More cries of “Witch!” were yelled out until the entire village seemed to shout at once.
“Villagers of Adams, I, your magistrate, have done it again. We will burn away the evil that inflicts this town. We will make this right again. We will feed your children’s mouths. We will survive!” The pillar of the trunk swayed back and forth. “We must rid our town of evil to do it. And right now, two such evils will be burned.”
Two?
Cheers and chants of “Die witches” sounded from every corner of the little town square. Isabella’s eyes popped open. She looked to her right. Nothing. She looked to her left.
There she stared into eyes. Familiar brown eyes. Brown eyes that turned down with sorrow when she was a little girl and scraped her knee or ruined a dress. Brown eyes that smiled at her when she helped with chores. Brown eyes that mirrored the flames below as the hay beneath them caught fire.
Her mother’s eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Sarah
“Where do you think you’re going?”
I halted as I discreetly, or so I thought, descended the stairs. Rose came into the foyer, checking her wristwatch. It was five or so. She had already hindered all my attempts to get out of the house to meet Drake and Jennie. Every moment counted though. I didn’t care if my body wasn't in top shape. I needed to be out there, seeing who killed my father and who wanted to kill me. “I’ve got to see Drake. It’s important.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You banged your head last night. You’re not going anywhere.”
“But Rose—”
Her eyebrow shot in the air. “No buts.”
“I really need to see him. Can he come over?”
“He could if he tried honey, but he hasn’t.”
I’d noticed. Neither Jennie nor Drake had tried to come over, even though Jennie said she would. “Can I call him then?”
Rose stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “You don’t want to seem clingy, do you? I know him and that Marlene girl were really close. She wasn’t clingy. She's a free spirit.” She huffed and put her hands on her hips. “We all thought he’d end up with her just……”
“Just what?”
“It didn’t…click…I guess."
I smiled, not feeling particularly happy. I didn’t like where this conversation was headed. “Good for me then.”
“Actually, Honey,” Rose said, frowning, “I think I should tell you. Before you showed up, I’m pretty sure they were going to get back together.”
My heart freefell to the ground. “That would explain why she hates me.”
“Probably.” Rose chuckled. The sound quickly turned eerie, like a Halloween clown’s maniacal laugh. “Once you’ve gone, I’m sure things will go back to as if you were never here.”
A fire sparked to life in my belly. “Drake says he’s not interested in her.”
Rose shrugged. “I’m just telling you an old wise woman’s point of view. Take it as you wish.”
She waved her hands and walked into her bedroom. I might’ve taken her advice if I hadn’t pored through Jennie’s Wiccan handbook all day, devouring the information. And I still might have listened, except I came across a picture of a doll within the pages. Marlene’s doll. A binding doll.
I ignored my aunt and walked to the front door. I pulled it open, smiling, and walked out. After easing the door shut, I ran to the SUV, hands already pulling at the keys I found on the side table from my pocket.
One thing the old wise woman didn’t know: how to live with a teenager.
I started the car and gunned it for the main road. My tires threw rocks into the grass as I took a right toward Drake’s house. I got to the old, country farm in no time, religiously checking the rearview mirror for Rose following in her own car, shaking her finger at me and saying what a naughty girl I was.
I pulled up to Drake’s farmhouse. The front curtains moved and his face came into view. I jumped from the car, but a head rush knocked me off kilter so I stood still, gripping the door handle for balance before Drake rushed over to envelop me in a hug.
“Are you okay? I’ve been calling you all day.”
“My cell’s dead, smashed.”
“No, I know. I called the house phone.”
“It hasn’t rung all day.” I smacked the door with my fist. “Aunt Rose must have turned the ringer off.”
“So are you alright?” He hugged me again, squeezing me. His grip moved to my hurt elbow and I moaned. He broke away and studied my injuries, turning my hand over in his. “Nasty."
“Yeah, battle scar, I guess.”
Drake frowned, letting my hand drop. His face turned chastising, like he was sick of having
to remind me of something I did wrong over and over again.
“Someone tried to run me over,” I reminded him. “This has everything to do with my dad and this crazy town. What are we going to do?"
Drake groaned. “Not you too.”
“What?”
“Jennie’s been ringing my phone off the hook. She’s convinced these things are related.”
“How can they not be?”
“Someone didn’t try to run you over. Those things just don’t happen in this town.”
“They did. Hello. Look at my dad.” Drake sighed and my nerves frayed at the already worn edges. “Jesus, Drake, your feelings are giving me whiplash. Do you believe that what is happening is happening or not? Did you not see what happened to Marlene yesterday?”
“Yeah, I did, and I talked to Marlene. She was invited to the meeting, she just showed up late.” Drake laughed. “You see, Sarah? There are always rational explanations for things."
“What? About what they did at the meeting? That doll is a binding doll. It—”
Drake waved my words away. “Some weird Wiccan stuff. I think you should stay out of it. Jennie kept talking about some crap that happened hundreds of years ago. I mean, really?”
I pulled away from him. “This is crazy. I mean, one minute you’re right there with me, and now the next, after I practically get run over, the biggest clue of all, and you think this is all some misunderstanding?”
Drake grabbed me by the shoulders. “You need to stop getting involved. Nothing is going on here. We’re in Adams, Virginia for Christ’s sake. I think there are only two hundred people living here. Nothing is going on. You need to stop prying.”
I shrugged him off. “Just…whatever, okay. Fine.” I fiddled with the keys in my hands. “I’m gonna go.”
“Just because I think you’re wrong about this town doesn’t mean I want you to leave. Sarah.” He grabbed for me again, eyes boring into me, filling me with a yearning so bad it made me want to fall into his arms. His body radiated need and like the pull of gravity, I was swept away. “I really want to kiss you right now.”
His eyes lightened as he reached for me. “Come on. I don’t want to worry about some conspiracy theory. I want to spend a fun summer with you.”
He leaned into me, kissing me with all of our desires laid bare between us. He kissed the worry out of me, the tense headache and rigid bones. He wound his hands in my hair, pressing my lips to his so hotly, so intimately that even I was a little embarrassed.
“Is that all you got?”
I jumped and snatched my head away. The kiss ended badly. Part of my lip was probably stuck to one of Drake’s teeth.
I spun, heart hammering away in my chest with a chisel. The inside of my mouth tasted metallic.
“Huh? Is that all you got, Mother?”
“Jennie?” I found her, face shaking and cheeks flaming red. “What are you—?”
“Get in your truck now, Sarah. I’ll explain on the way.”
“But—”
“Now! Trust me.” Jennie shook something on the ground in front of her from a canister. “Get behind this line.”
Frozen, my feet were planted into the earth like a cypress tree, and my fingers were roots that intertwined with Drake’s. I didn’t know if I could go anywhere even if I wanted to.
“Please,” Drake scoffed. “I told you she was crazy.”
“Sarah…” Jennie’s voice turned to buzzing alarm. “I believe you. I believe everything you’ve said and I know why. I know everything and I’ll tell you. Just get behind this line and we’ll drive away from here."
I scooted a few inches away from Drake, dropping his heavy hand. He stared down at my feet, blinking, like he thought he only imagined I’d moved away from him. “You can’t be serious, Sarah. I told you. There’s nothing going on here.”
“Don’t listen to him anymore. He—”
“He thinks he’s in love with you.” Drake peered at me with half-lidded eyes, unscathed, innocent baby-like eyes. “God Sarah, I’ve been trying to hold back because you were so unsure. You’ve got a lot going on. Your dad, your mom, meeting your aunt for the first time. But come on, from the first time I saw you, we clicked.”
He reached for me, and it wasn’t just a hand reaching out, it was like two hearts melting to one. My uncertainty washed away in a tide of emotions freed after a surge of tsunamis happily broke my incomplete heart.
Someone loved me. Someone wanted to spend time with me. I couldn’t remember feeling this way…like, ever. My dad wrote about it in his journal. Wrote how great of a family we were. I never got to experience a tight family unit though. Mom was always off trying to pick up a new step-dad to make us a whole family, never realizing what I needed was her. Just her. A mom to make me feel whole. A family tree that didn’t matter if it was only a two-person deal, it was still complete and real.
I reached out to Drake, a tear running down my face. He smiled at me, one lip higher than the other and those cute, tiny lines creased his mouth.
A sting flared on the back of my calf. Tiny beads pelted me from behind on my bare arms and legs. Some struck Drake in the face. He shook his head. “What the…what’s going on?"
“Drake?” The question dropped from my lips like lead. I didn’t know what to ask him. I needed everything from him and I wasn't quite sure how to ask him for everything. It was like asking someone for a rainbow or a star.
What should I do? There were so many possibilities and not enough time to sort them all though.
Jennie ran forward and grasped me by the elbow. “Get in the car!”
My elbow screamed in pain. She dragged me back and pushed me toward the passenger seat. Drake stood sullenly, looking after us, his mouth pulled down into a frown, face smeared in confusing pain.
Off to the right, movement caught my eye. Corn stalks blew in the wind and then Rose emerged. Nothing touched the green plants, nothing moved them from her way, but the stalks parted for her like a countrified automatic door. So unnatural, like nails scraping something so hard, the body cringes, or knees folding in the wrong direction the body automatically repulses.
“Oh, jesus. Get in the car!” Jennie pushed me so hard that I fell into the open door. I hopped onto the seat and a couple seconds later, Jennie jumped in, turning the car over too hard that the engine squealed in protest. “Shut the door!”
“Drake? What about Drake?”
“Shut the door!” Jennie put the car in drive and slammed on the gas. A cloud of dirt swirled around the vehicle. I pulled the door shut and peered out the window as we gunned it down Drake’s driveway.
Drake and Rose stood together. The older woman’s hand around his shoulders as she comforted him.
“You better start talking.”
“I knew you would come here first. Why? I told you I needed to talk to you.”
“What are you talking about? I haven’t talked to you all day. I haven’t talked to anybody all day.”
“I talked to you on the phone not less than five minutes ago.”
“Hello. Did you not just hear me? Nobody called me all day. Nobody. The only person I’ve talked to is Rose.”
“Shit!” Jennie banged her hands against the steering wheel. “It’s worse than I thought.”
“What?”
She spoke to the air, almost in awe. “Oh my god. She can transfigure.”
“Transfigure?” Mentally, I scanned the pages of Jennie’s book. The name sparked something, but it couldn’t be.
“Yes. She can make herself whoever she wants.”
I saw the picture in the book now, an ugly, warted hag turning into a beautiful woman with the figure of a dancer. “Body or voice?” I asked. The script had said something about there being a difference. “You only heard her voice, well, my voice.”
Jennie’s face turned cockeyed, unbalanced, a ghastly awe. I didn’t know if she was terrified, or if I had shocked her with my black magic knowledge.
“I’ve been r
eading your Wiccan Handbook,” I clarified.
“I don’t know. Maybe both?” Jennie steered the SUV around a sharp corner, it tittered on its wheels. “Both would be bad. Really bad. We wouldn’t know who she was or wasn’t.”
“You’re sure? Absolutely sure it’s my aunt?”
“Positive. Did you not notice the freaking corn? Hello? I don’t know if that happens where you’re from, but it sure as shit doesn't happen around here.”
“This isn’t happening. Any of it.” I clenched the dash in front of me. “Why her? Why?”
“Think about it. It may not be her.”
My face pinched together as I shot her a look.
Her voice came out low, hypnotic. “She can transfigure, take over bodies. I know everything.”
“What do you know? Tell me.”
“Gladly.” Jennie rounded another corner again, a less severe one that only sent the SUV’s tires screeching against the pavement. "You know that journal we found in your aunt’s library?”
“Uh huh.”
“Well…I read it. I pulled your car into the driveway before I left last night and I saw it on the passenger seat from the other day. I figured since you were…incapacitated, you'd want me to do some snooping.”
I rolled my hand over. “So…”
“So I know what’s happening. The journal belonged to this girl named Isabella who lived here a freaking long time ago. She was in love with this guy named Thomas—”
Scenery blipped by like seconds on a timer. I didn’t want to know what happened when it blinked zero. “Please, Jennie. Get to the important part.”
“I am at the important part. His father didn’t approve and mysteriously she was convicted of witchcraft and burned at the stake. She was one of the witches burned here in Adams."
“Okay…and this has to do with me because…”
“Because the symbol we’ve both seen is in her journal. It isn’t the sign for the devil. It was a sign of a local family, the Shipton's.”
I sighed, about to open my mouth to tell Jennie to get to the freakin’ point already when she rushed out, “Mother Shipton to be exact.”