Chapter Seven
When I woke up, my mouth was dry and woolly. My head was aching, and my heart was racing, like I’d come out of a nightmare.
There was a woman watching me. She was one of the women from the ritual I’d witnessed, clad in all black. I couldn’t guess her age; the dim lighting of the room and the austere robes she wore made her appear anywhere from fourteen to forty. When she saw that I was awake, she nodded and handed me a heavy silver plate. There was a slab of grilled meat, oozing blood, and a hunk of dark bread. The roasted scent of meat made me realize that I was truly hungry, but I hesitated.
“Is this safe?” I pointed to the meat and bread.
The woman narrowed her eyes but didn’t speak. After a few seconds, she gave a brief jerk of her head.
“Are you sure?”
The woman shoved the plate into my lap.
“Fine,” I muttered. My stomach rumbled. I picked up the hunk of bread and took a slow bite. It tasted alright – sweeter than I’d expected, but it was hard to chew. The woman hadn’t handed me a fork, so I lowered my head and picked up the piece of meat with one hand. It smelled different – it obviously wasn’t beef or lamb – but it tasted good. I chewed slowly in an attempt to savor my meal, but when I looked down at the plate, I saw it was empty.
“Is there any more?”
The woman didn’t say anything. She kept her eye on me as she sat down and leaned against the wall. We were in a dark room with no windows and a dim, ethereal light that seemed to glow from the ceiling. It was cold and damp, though – almost like a cellar.
The sound of voices floated into the room, and seconds later, a door opened. The old man who had grabbed me in the forest walked in. He snapped his fingers, and the woman who fed me got up and scrambled away.
“Don’t touch me,” I hissed. I stood up, and the silver plate went clattering to the floor. The sound made me wince – everything in the small room seemed amplified.
The man snorted. “I won’t hurt you, child,” he said. “That is not why you were brought to the Coven.”
Hearing the word ‘coven’ made everything click. Obviously, I’d been taken by a warlock. But I shivered at the knowledge that something truly supernatural was happening to me. I pinched my arm, hoping to wake.
“This isn’t a dream,” the man said. “You are a witch. You are now a member of the Coven.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not,” I said. “You kidnapped me.”
The man laughed. “It was your time,” he said. “Come. Are you telling me that you hadn’t taken notice of everything around you?”
My heart sank. “You mean the cows,” I said. “And the break-ins. That was you.”
The man smiled menacingly, baring white teeth. “It was not me,” he said disdainfully. “But rather someone who did my bidding.” He licked his lips.
“I don’t want to be here,” I said unsteadily. My voice trembled. “I want to go home. I need to go home.”
“This is your home.” The man stepped closer. “I am Henrik. I am the High Priest.”
“I don’t really care who you are,” I said tartly. “I want to go home!”
Henrik threw his head back and laughed. “You’re a silly little girl,” he said dismissively. “You are in an enviable position, my dear. Most enviable.”
“Yeah,” I snapped. “I bet every girl in Jaffrey wishes that some creepy asshole would kidnap her.”
Henrik shook his head. “Come here,” he said. “You will understand.”
I watched as Henrik took an athame out of his pocket – the very same knife I’d found in the woods – and drew three lines on the wall in the shape of a square with the floor as the base. He muttered a few words to the knife, then tapped it inside of the box. Instantly, hot flames sprung out of the wall. I gasped loudly as the wall shifted into a full fireplace in front of my very eyes, complete with black kettle and a roasting rack.
Henrik reached into the pocket of his robes and grabbed a handful of herbs. He threw them at the fireplace and clapped his hands. A cloud of green-colored smoke unfurled around me, and I started coughing and coughing until I felt like I would expel my lungs.
“Watch,” Henrik said in a low voice. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me close to the roaring fire until my face was burning hot.
I squinted and stared, but I didn’t see anything.
“You will see,” Henrik said. His voice floated around me, wrapping me tightly in a cloud of dark promise. As I stared into the blaze, an image began to take shape in front of me. Two girls were sitting on the floor, playing with an Ouija board. I gasped in horror as I recognized a flicking silhouette of myself seated beside Andrea D’Amico.
“Monica, nothing’s happening,” Andrea whined. Her pale, heart-shaped face puckered with regret and dissatisfaction. “I’m leaving. This is so dumb!”
“Wait!” Monica grabbed her wrist. “No, don’t go. I promise, sometimes it just takes some time.”
Andrea looked at her suspiciously. “I don’t believe you,” she said slowly. “My mom says this stuff is bad,” she said quietly. “Like, we’re worshipping the devil.”
“There is no devil,” Monica said. “Don’t be so dramatic. Do you want to talk to your aunt or not?”
Andrea swallowed. Her eyes were wide with fear, but she nodded slowly. “Okay,” she said. “Just one more time and then I give up, Monica. This is freaky!”
“It’s not freaky,” Monica said smugly. She put the tips of her finger on the planchette and moved the triangular object over the smooth surface of the Ouija board. “You just have to relax, Andrea.”
Andrea didn’t move. She glared down at the board, then looked at her hands. They were clasped tightly in her lap.
“I don’t know about this,” Andrea said slowly. “I…what if something happens?”
“Nothing can happen,” Monica said. She reached forward and grabbed Andrea’s wrists. “Give me your hands.”
Andrea squirmed, resisting. After a few seconds, she relaxed and allowed Monica to place her fingertips on the planchette. Monica closed her eyes and began moving her hands around the board in slow circles.
“Oh, spirits, we’ve come to talk with you,” Monica said in a hushed tone. “We’ve come to hear your teachings. Please guide us, help us understand the world you inhabit that is beyond the earthly veil.”
Andrea yanked one of her hands away. “No,” she said hotly. “I can’t do this, Monica! We’re talking to demons!”
“We’re not going to be talking to anyone unless you can shut up,” Monica hissed. “Stop being such a little brat!” She grabbed Andrea’s hand and placed it firmly on the planchette. “Relax and close your eyes. Your aunt will be here soon.”
Andrea licked her plump lips and obediently closed her eyes. Monica resumed swirling the planchette in slow, rhythmic circles across the board.
“Oh spirits, please guide me,” Monica whispered. “Please, help Andrea as she searches for her late aunt.”
“Aunt Sadie, I miss you,” Andrea said tearfully. “I miss you so much. I don’t have anyone to talk to now that you’re gone.”
“Sadie, come speak with your niece,” Monica said in a haunting voice. “She is desperate and thirsty for your guidance.”
The planchette slowed to a crawl. The hair on the back of Monica’s neck prickled and stood up as the planchette began to circle the letter ‘H.’ As the two girls watched, the plastic triangle moved over the letters ‘E,’ followed by two ‘L’s and one ‘O.’
“She’s here,” Monica said excitedly. “Now, you can ask her anything you want!”
“I’m scared,” Andrea whispered. “It feels like someone is watching us, Monica.”
“Don’t be silly,” Monica said. “She’ll go if you can’t think of anything to say. You’d better speak up.”
“Aunt Sadie, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you were sick,” Andrea said. “And I’m sorry for what I said.” She glanced up at Monica. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”
The planchette shot over to ‘yes.’
Andrea nodded quickly. “I’m so glad you’re here. I miss you so much,” she said.
“Sadie, give Andrea a sign,” Monica murmured. “Show her that you’re here. Show her that you care.”
“What are you doing?” Andrea hissed. “Aunt Sadie, you don’t have to listen!”
“Sadie, show Andrea and me that you’re in the room with us,” Monica said softly. Her brown eyes glowed as they fixed upon the board and planchette. “Make us believe your magic.”
A sudden, loud thumping sound in the room made both girls jump. Andrea bit her lip and fearfully looked all around, her eyes as wide as saucers. Monica kept her hands lightly touching the planchette. Her eyes were closed.
“Sadie, show Andrea your love,” Monica hissed toward the board. “Show her that you know what it means to be persecuted for what you believe.”
Andrea glared at Monica. “What the heck are you talking about?”
The thumping sound grew louder. Monica smiled serenely. “She’s in the closet,” Monica said quietly. She jerked her head toward a door with a bolt. “Why don’t you go see her, Andrea?”
Andrea stared at Monica. Her face was pale, and she shook her head.
“I’m scared, Monica,” Andrea whispered.
“Tell us that you’re here, Sadie,” Monica hissed.
An unearthly wail floated through the room. It sounded like it was coming from inside the locked closet. As Monica and Andrea stared at the door, it began to thump and groan against the metal deadbolt. Wood splinters flew across the room as the door jerked against its restraints.
Andrea shrieked. She yanked her hands away from the planchette and covered her mouth. “Make it stop!” Andrea screamed. “Make it stop!”
The door burst open, and a gust of cold wind blew across the room. Andrea screamed as the wind whipped her hair and stung her face. She shrieked and shrieked, crying hysterically and rocking back and forth.
“Andrea, calm down,” Monica said. She smiled unpleasantly, and Andrea gasped at the sight of her friend’s face. Where Monica’s face had been youthful and free of wrinkles, now she looked like a wizened old crone. Monica threw her head back and began to laugh as the wind intensified. It whipped all around the two girls, scattering dust and the planchette. The Ouija board flapped and closed and skidded along the dusty floor.
A high-pitched, eerie voice filled the room. “Andrea…Andrea…I’m coming for you, Andrea. I’m coming to make you pay for your sins.”
Andrea screamed. She got to her feet and ran down the attic stairs, her feet thumping loudly on the steps. Monica sat there, watching her go. Her smile slowly faded, and her features returned to normal.
“You have seen,” Henrik drawled. He pulled me away from the fire. My heart was racing, and my skin was clammy and cold.
“I didn’t do that,” I protested. “That wasn’t me! You’re messing with my memory!”
“I’m doing no such thing,” Henrik said softly. He shook his head. “You just don’t remember.”
“I think I’d remember that!” My eyes filled with tears, and I shook my head. I was suddenly exhausted again, even though it felt like I’d been sleeping for days.
“You remember differently, a modified memory,” Henrik said quietly. He waved his hand over the fireplace, and the flames vanished. I gasped as the wall returned to normal. Within just a few seconds, it was impossible to tell that a fire had been in the place at all.
“That didn’t happen,” I said. As I tried to comb through my brain and recall the true memory, I was frustrated to realize that my mind felt veiled and obscured. I felt like I could put my finger on exactly what had happened, but when I went to reach for the words, they weren’t there.
“Then what did happen?” Henrik crossed his arms over his chest and laughed. For a moment, he looked almost youthful. “Tell me, Monica. Tell me what really happened.”
I closed my eyes. ‘Think, Monica, think! Remember what happened that day!’
“I can’t!” I wailed.
Henrik’s eyes blazed with fire. He put his hands on my shoulders and leaned in close, pressing his forehead to mine.
“Recall on your own,” Henrik said in a low growl. “You are stronger than this. You have power, Monica – very strong power, albeit untrained.”
Tears of frustration welled in my eyes and dripped down my cheeks. “I can’t!”
“Think harder!” Henrik thundered. “Try harder!”
“Andrea’s aunt died,” I said. “She…she said that she missed her. My friend, Elizabeth, told Andrea that I could help. I think she was just kidding, but Andrea really believed her.”
“And then what happened?”
“I…I don’t know,” I said. “All I remember is Andrea ran out of my house and ratted me out to her stupid parents. They called Jamie and Brian and told them I’d screwed with their daughter.”
Henrik’s lips curled into a smile. “So, you don’t remember, do you?”
“I know it wasn’t that!” I said hotly. “I never would have done anything to frighten Andrea!”
Henrik laughed. The sound sent chills down my spine, and I glanced down at my hands twisting nervously in my lap.
“You don’t respect Andrea,” Henrik said. He kept smiling uneasily. “That much is clear. You wanted to frighten her. Admit it: you wanted her to be afraid of you.” He nodded his head up and down. “Yes, Monica. You wanted Andrea to know that you’re powerful. You wanted her to know that you have something special, something sacred.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re a witch, Monica,” Henrik said. “You’re a descendent of the most powerful witch in all of New England – a witch who escaped death more than once.”
My heart thudded against my ribs.
Henrik leaned in close and grabbed my shoulder. His breath tickled my ear, and a cold chill ran down my spine.
“You have a history of getting your way, don’t you?” Henrik breathed. “You can’t handle the idea of being similar to everyone else; you have to be different.”
“That’s not true!” I swallowed. “I don’t care about that!”
“It’s obvious that you do,” Henrik said. His placid, serene smile was giving me the creeps, and I wished more than anything that I was home alone.
“You don’t believe me,” Henrik added. “But you will.” He leaned closer still until his lips were mere inches away from my ear. “Temperare inferiorem te esse.”
“What?” I pulled away and narrowed my eyes. “What does that even mean?”
Henrik’s eyes flashed. He whispered the same phrase, over and over, until the words sounded like gibberish. Instinctively, I knew to close my eyes.
A horrifying vision played out on the inside of my eyelids. A huge mob hurled angry epithets. Women dressed in long robes were tied to flaming stakes. Three of them were screaming and wailing with pain as the flames licked and shot up their bodies. The fourth woman was smiling serenely. As the fire reached her chest, she opened her mouth and began to cackle and laugh. There was a loud, angry cheer from the mob, and the woman smiled before opening her mouth and screaming.
The scent of singed flesh and hair filled my nostrils, and I coughed and gagged, trying to clear the smoke away. The crowd was roaring now, demanding blood and revenge. The three screaming women had silenced, and the flames were now licking around their disfigured, melted faces. But the fourth woman was still wailing and shrieking. The ropes binding her to the stake broke and melted, and she fell onto the burning kindling below.
“Temperare inferiorem te esse!” the woman screamed. “Temperare inferiorem te esse!”
My eyes flashed open. I felt dazed and exhausted as I stared into Henrik’s eyes.
“Control those weaker than yourself,” I said softly. “That’s what you just said.”
Henrik nodded wisely. “And now, you understand.”