After several minutes of searching, Egan hands me a list of five Davenports buried in or close to Salem. “No Penelope though,” he says.
“It’s worth looking anyway,” I say. “It might give us nothing, but I’ve got to do something or go crazy.”
“I’ll go with you,” Rule says. “I know the local cemeteries pretty well.”
I nod then look at Egan. “Ready to put your mad computer skills to work again?”
Egan laces his fingers and cracks his knuckles.
“See if there’s any new information on Keller and Toni, or anything else that might be useful to us,” I say.
He looks like he’s been released from prison. To him, sifting through all these old papers in a windowless basement probably is like prison. Give him a computer and various gadgets any day.
“I’ve got to get out of here, too,” he says. “I’m going back to the cottage for a while.”
After Egan heads up the stairs, Fiona steps in front of Rule and me before we can leave. “Be careful.”
Rule looks surprised by her words, and honestly I am, too.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
“I feel like the more we learn, the more dangerous things become,” she says. “Something is nagging at me. And even pre-trial witches had pretty good intuition.”
“We’ll be careful,” I say. “I won’t take Rule into any dangerous situations.”
Rule doesn’t look too happy that he’s being protected, but he has enough sense to keep his mouth shut. At least until he and I get outside. “You don’t have to treat me like a baby.”
“I’m not. I’m treating you like a guy who has no power to protect himself if the crap really hits the fan.”
Rule goes quiet and doesn’t say anything else until we reach the Old Burying Point Cemetery a short distance from the herb shop. He stops before we pass through the gate and points toward several stone benches placed in a U shape next to a low, stone wall.
“This memorial is dedicated to the people the history books say died in the Salem witch trials,” he says. “We all know there should be a lot more, but at least it’s something.”
I walk slowly past the benches, reading the inscriptions in the granite. Bridget Bishop, Hanged, July 10, 1692. Rebecca Nurse, Hanged, July 19, 1692. Martha Carrier, John Proctor, and fifteen others, all innocent and hanged. And then there’s the one that always makes me shiver. Giles Corey, Sept. 19, 1692, pressed to death. I can’t imagine the pain and suffering endured by the old man as rock upon rock was stacked onto his body until the combined weight finally killed him. All for refusing to enter a plea to a hysteria-fed charge.
I wonder what the thousands of tourists visiting this spot each year would think if they knew how many other markers should be sitting in this spot with similar inscriptions.
“If those witch hunters had only known what evil they were breeding,” I say.
“Ironic that their actions brought about the very thing they thought they were getting rid of.”
“Did your family lose anyone?” I ask, looking up at the boy beside me and feeling myself grow more attached to him. Not the way I am with Keller, but I definitely care what happens to Rule.
“A many times great-grandmother.”
I sigh. “And yet your family was strong enough to resist letting revenge blacken their souls.”
“What your family did back then isn’t your fault,” he says.
“I know.” I do, really I do. But that doesn’t make me feel any less guilty about bearing the Pherson name. “Come on.”
After locating the graves of the five people on Egan’s list at the first three cemeteries we visit, we don’t find any Davenports in the next four. I do note the names of a couple of women who were supposedly witches, though in a town like Salem having a “witch” in a graveyard is just good business.
The afternoon light is waning when Rule makes his way down a winding lane to the Wildwood Cemetery, a final resting place for about twenty souls off the beaten path.
“I haven’t been out here since I was a little kid. I think it was a Cub Scouts outing where we cleaned the plant growth away from the stones.”
A smile stretches my lips. “Cub Scouts, huh?”
“Always be prepared. Think about it. The scouting motto matches up pretty well with my family’s.”
“True.”
Rule parks and we get out of the car. He pushes open the wooden gate. It looks like it’s gotten a new coat of red paint recently.
The absolute quiet of the place hits me the moment we pass through the gate. And while there are hundreds of old graves in Salem, these feel ancient somehow. We don’t speak as we wander past the stone markers, some of them so old that the words have faded away while others are well kept, their ornate designs still clear. I wonder if we might pass by Penelope’s grave and not even know it.
As we near the back of the cemetery, I notice a large crypt in one corner. The darkness inside me coils like a snake preparing to strike. I stop and try to take a deep breath. It’s much harder than it should be. Rule doesn’t notice because he’s walked ahead. I try to fight panic as I realize this darkness is different. Is this what I’d pulled from the earth at Shiprock?
I force myself to begin walking again, but with each step I take toward the crypt, the darkness grows more agitated.
Rule looks back at me. He must notice something in my expression because his reflects concern. “What is it?”
“There’s something about that crypt. I feel pulled toward it. Pulled and repelled at the same time.”
When we get close, I notice the name etched above the door. Davenport. My heart starts beating triple time. Have we found Penelope? And if so, what does it mean that I feel drawn to the woman’s final resting place?
I walk around the entire crypt but see no other indication of who is entombed inside. Other than the surname, the only thing I see is an ornate sun carved in the massive stone door. I lift my hand toward the carving, and the darkness inside me writhes and twists so much that I double over.
“Jax, what’s wrong?” Rule wraps his arm around my back, but the contact only serves to upset me more. Pain stabs at my insides, making me cry out. Despite the chill in the air, sweat breaks out all over my body, and my breath starts coming fast.
“Something doesn’t want me here for some reason,” I say, my voice strained.
“Let’s go.” Rule tries to guide me back toward the cemetery entrance, but I pull out of his grasp.
“No. I need to stay.” Something in the deepest core of my being, something even deeper than the pain, makes me lift my hand toward the sun carving. But as soon as my fingers touch it, I scream and snatch them back. Smoke rises from my fingertips where the stone burned me.
Rule grabs my hand and examines the reddened skin. “Let’s get you back so my grandmother can fix this.”
The pain strikes again, causing me to bend backward as if possessed. Maybe I am. Maybe I truly do have a demon inside me.
Rule uses more strength than I would have credited him with to drag me away from the crypt and the cemetery. When I struggle against him, doing my best not to blast him with my magic, he turns me forcefully away so that I can no longer see the crypt.
He ushers me into the car then runs to the driver’s side. The car’s tires spit gravel as he speeds away from the cemetery. I expect the pain to settle as we drive away, but it continues to roil and bite and make its unwanted presence known. I don’t examine it too closely. I’m afraid of what I might find.
Chapter Six
“What the hell happened?” Egan asks as he storms out of the cottage.
I look up from where Rule is helping me up the cobblestone walkway. “I think I found Penelope Davenport.”
Egan halts in his tracks and simply stares at me as if one thing has nothing to do with the other.
“You think we could go inside before she crumples?” Rule asks.
“I’m fine, really.” But I wasn’t
only minutes before.
Egan leads the way inside. Once across the front threshold, I step away from Rule.
“Here.” Rule extends a tube of ointment he’d gotten from the shop for my burned fingers.
I take it. “Thank you, for everything.” He really is turning out to be a good friend, and that scares me. Someone else I fear will get hurt because of my coven’s pursuit of me.
“Someone going to tell me what’s going on?” Egan asks.
I fill him in on what happened at the cemetery.
“Now that’s just flipping weird,” he says when I’m finished.
“That’s one way of putting it,” I say. “And it makes it even more important to find out if any of the Bane are still alive, and where they are. If that’s Penelope’s crypt, it’s somehow infused with some strong magic that really doesn’t like coven witches.”
Egan runs his hand back over his hair. “What we need, one more thing to worry about.”
I detect the change in his voice and realize that I miss the old, carefree Egan. “Did you find out something?”
“You could say that. Seems word got out about the battle at Shiprock. The coven networks are buzzing big time about it.”
Our concerns didn’t just double or triple. If more than one coven knows, they all know. A world full of dark witches versus two defectors and our powerless cohorts—I don’t like those odds at all.
I brace myself for more bad news. “Anything about Keller and Toni?”
Egan’s jaw tightens. “No. If they have them, they’re keeping tight-lipped about it.”
What other explanation can there be?
I drift off into my own thoughts until Egan places a fresh cup of strong coffee in front of me. “Thanks.”
“Have you ever reacted to anything like you did that crypt?” Rule asks.
I shake my head. “That’s what tells me it’s important.”
“We should go blast the thing open, see what’s inside,” Egan says.
“That won’t work,” I say.
“How do you know that?”
“Instinct. There’s no visible way to open it, and if we try to force it, I have no doubt things will go very badly.”
“Great. I needed one more piece of crappy news today.”
“Maybe it would just react to you two that way,” Rule says. “I could try.”
“Unless you’re hiding some superhuman strength, sounds like that’s not an option either,” Egan says.
I take a shaky sip of my coffee then set it on the small kitchen table. “I didn’t see anything that looked even remotely like a way to get in.”
“If it recognized you as a threat, maybe it would recognize I’m not one,” Rule says.
I shake my head. “It can’t be that simple. If anyone could touch it and have it open, surely someone would have stumbled upon that before now.” While I appreciate Rule’s willingness to help to the best of his abilities, I’m developing a protective instinct toward him the same as I did for Toni and Keller. Not that I’m going to come right out and say that. I’ve already wounded his pride once today by telling his grandmother I wouldn’t put him in harm’s way. But I might have unknowingly done exactly that.
Suddenly exhausted, I prop my head against my hand.
“You need to get some rest,” Rule says. “Tomorrow is soon enough to figure this out.”
I want to argue that it isn’t soon enough, that every minute we waste is a minute that Keller and Toni might not have. But what I can’t argue with is how absolutely drained I feel. I’m realizing that the struggle inside me is taking more and more effort, wearing me down. I’m afraid it’s going to get worse before it gets better, and I have to be ready for that.
So I nod. “Maybe your mom and grandmother will have something for us to work with tomorrow.”
Rule meets my eyes. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
My heart shifts. Were it not for Keller, I wonder if I might fall for Rule. “I’m good, thanks.”
Rule seems reluctant to leave, but he stands and heads for the door all the same. Using some of my last reserve of energy, I follow. When he opens the door, I take his hand in mine.
“Thank you for helping me get back here,” I say. “If I ever say something mean-spirited or harsh to you—”
“I’ll know it’s not you talking.” He squeezes my hand and offers a small smile before he leaves the cottage.
I watch as he disappears into the night. Rule Latimer is a good soul, and he deserves someone so much better than me.
“Don’t get too attached,” Egan says from the opposite side of the room.
I let out a slow sigh then close the door. “I won’t.” Getting attached only leads to heartbreak when you have to leave.
It’s evident how much the previous day took out of me when I don’t wake up until almost noon. As I wander out into the living area, I find Egan at work on the computer. He glances up and chuckles.
“Nice Bride of Frankenstein look you’re rocking this morning.”
I stick my tongue out at him. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You needed the rest, and I didn’t want you to drag me back into that awful basement.”
“Answers aren’t going to walk up to the front door and present themselves, you know.”
He doesn’t respond, so I trudge toward the coffee maker and luckily find some hot coffee still available. After pouring a cup, I lean back against the sink. “Anything new?”
He shakes his head. “No. And honestly, that’s a bit odd. Usually somebody’s saying something interesting.”
“How do you get access to all this stuff anyway?” I lean forward and squint. “Is that a video feed of your house?”
“You don’t want to know, and yes.”
“So, nothing more about Keller and Toni?”
“Nothing. I even tried their cell phones and got voice mail. Granted, they just might not want to talk to me.”
Or me.
To keep from sinking too far into sadness and worry about Keller and Toni, I head for the bathroom and take a long, hot shower. Though I feel better afterward, there’s no denying I’m still drained.
“You want to take the day off?” Egan asks.
“No, the quicker we can crack open how to deal with everything, the happier I’ll be.”
The thought of finally being able to truly relax and not have to worry about anything propels me toward the herb shop as soon as Egan parks. I’ve gotten used to seeing customers in the shop and browsing until they leave. Then I can safely step into the back and head downstairs.
What I’m not ready for is having one of those customers face me and the sudden realization it’s Keller Dawes, the boy I love but left without a word.
“Keller,” I breathe. My heart thuds so fast and hard it reverberates throughout my entire body. He’s safe. And standing right in front of me. “You’re alive.” Tears threaten, but I blink them back.
He takes a slow, deliberate step toward me, then another. I don’t move even though I want nothing more than to race into his arms and hold him close. When he comes within an arm’s length of me, he stops and stares.
“Why?” It’s only one word, but with it I know in the deepest part of myself how hurt he’s been by my disappearance. How angry he is now though he holds it in check.
“You know why,” I say.
Egan strides through the front door then and stops suddenly just inside. He curses under his breath. Keller shoots him a dark scowl.
“Good to see you’re still breathing, too,” Keller says, his voice rife with sarcasm.
“I could say the same about you,” Egan says. “Guess we can stop trying to figure out how to get you back from the covens.”
Keller’s forehead creases.
“We heard you’d gone missing,” I say as I resist touching Keller to make sure he’s real. “We thought my family, or maybe Egan’s had taken you.”
“No, and you shouldn’t be surprised
we came after you,” Keller says. “You heard us say as much.”
“We?” Egan tries to hide his need to know Toni is here, too, but I feel his concern, his intense longing for her.
“Toni’s around somewhere,” Keller says. “We finally figured this had to be where you’d come if you were looking for answers. Come to the source, right?”
Fiona clears her throat where she stands behind the counter.
“Not here,” I say and finally touch Keller to push him toward the front door.
“No, bring him in the back,” Fiona says.
“He’s not one of us,” Egan says.
“Says you,” Keller shoots back.
“Stop it, both of you,” I say and urge Keller toward the doorway to the back room.
Before they can make it, the front door opens again.
“Egan!”
I recognize the voice of my best friend and turn in time to see Toni racing toward Egan. She launches herself at him, but he steps out of the way, and Toni has to pull herself up short. My heart breaks as I feel how difficult it is for Egan to harden himself against Toni when what he wants to do is pull her into his arms.
The look on Toni’s face breaks my heart even more. My friend looks as if she’s had her love for Egan thrown back in her face as if it means nothing.
I know what Egan is doing, even understand, but it doesn’t make it any easier to witness.
“Have you been here the whole time?” Toni asks, letting anger replace the joy at seeing Egan.
All he does is shrug.
Toni shifts her gaze to me, and I can’t lie to her.
“Almost the entire time. We laid low for a while to make sure the coast was clear,” I say.
“In the back,” Fiona says, a bit more insistent.
“They’re not staying,” Egan says.
“The hell we’re not,” Toni says, sounding more like her cousin.
“Then I’m not staying.” Egan stalks toward the door. When Toni starts to follow him, he stops and takes a menacing step toward her. He shoves his index finger toward her face. “Don’t follow me. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go back home.”
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