Chapter Five
Elizabeth
I was running through a dark wood, stumbling and shrieking with fright each time a branch lashed at my face. My heart raced and my breath was coming in shallow pants, but I couldn’t stop. I felt compelled to keep going, like there was something urging me on from behind, something I couldn’t seem to shake no matter how fast I plunged on.
The darkness was overwhelming. I’d never seen woods like this before in my life. The trees were thick and black and so dense that I had to run with my arms above my head just so I wouldn’t stumble and fall.
“Ahh!” I screamed as my foot caught on a branch and I went sprawling to the ground. I hit with much more impact than necessary, scraping my knees and the palms of my hands on twigs and rocks. Pain shot through my body, but I could already feel myself getting back to my feet and running on.
My feet carried me faster and faster through the woods until finally I stumbled into a clearing. A pale, unearthly light shown over the ground, and I glanced up to see the moon, large and sunken in the sky. I gasped. The moon looked much larger than it should, almost like the Earth had somehow moved closer.
The clearing was covered with large, flat rocks arranged in a circle. My breath caught in my throat as a strange chanting reached my ears. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up, and goosebumps broke out over my skin as the chanting grew nearer and nearer. I shivered, rooted to the spot. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t move.
A slow-moving line of people began to fill the clearing. Their chanting was atonal and alarming. It filled my senses with a strange feeling of dread as the people moved around me, swaying back and forth and walking slowly, almost as if they were drugged. I swallowed uncomfortably as the people moved around me, almost as if they didn’t see me standing there.
I tried to reach out and grab the sleeve of the nearest person, but they dodged away.
“Hey,” I said sharply. “What is this? What am I doing here?”
My question went ignored. The chanting grew louder, and the people all lifted their hands in unison to the moon, swaying and dancing in an eerie rhythm. A loud crack of thunder filled the air, and the chanting suddenly stopped. Everyone lifted their hands to their robes and pushed the hoods back, revealing a diverse group of old and young. They were all clothed in long, black robes, aside from one woman. She looked ancient; long white hair spilled over her shoulders, and her blue eyes shone with purpose.
“You have come,” the woman said. She was staring directly at me.
I froze. “What…what’s going on?”
The woman ignored my question. I turned around to see if she was speaking to someone else, but the woods had closed up behind me like a great vacuum.
“You are here to join us,” the woman said. She wasn’t smiling. She began to hum, and soon, the others resumed chanting. They moved in slow, jagged circles around the rocks and each other, anonymous and creepy.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I shrieked. A cold chill ran through my veins, and I shivered. Suddenly, I felt my stomach twist and cramp with painful nausea. As I dropped to my knees, the chanting grew louder. I cried out in pain and opened my mouth to see a steady torrent of blood gushing from my throat. It spilled onto the ground, soaking into the dark soil and spreading around me in a wide circle. To my horror, I found that I couldn’t stop. Soon, I felt my body growing weak with the effort. The blood was pouring from me at an alarming rate, and I began to feel dizzy.
The strange woman raised her voice and screamed – a blood-curdling scream. Soon, the others began to shriek and wail, tearing at their robes.
“Help me,” I choked, spewing blood. “Help me! I can’t breathe! Someone, help!”
The screaming only grew louder, and then I fell to the ground, exhausted.
“Augh!”
I sat up in bed, my heart racing. Immediately, I began pawing at my face and chest, half-expecting to feel wet, sticky blood. But there was nothing on my skin, save for a fine sheen of sweat that had broken out in my dream. My room was dark, and the clock on my bedside table flashed three in the morning, on the dot.
As I lay back down in bed, I knew I was done with sleep for the night.
In the morning, I told Mom I was sick. It didn’t take much convincing as she looked at me and nodded.
“Stay home today,” Mom said. Behind her, I heard the whining of my younger brother, Aidan. To Aidan, Mom said, “Shush. Your older sister’s going through a lot of stuff.”
I swallowed nervously. “Are you going to stay home, too?”
Mom narrowed her eyes at me. “Elizabeth, are you okay?” She came closer, putting her hand to my forehead.
“Yeah,” I lied.
“You haven’t asked me to stay home with you in years,” Mom said. I heard the catch in her voice. “You’re growing up so fast, Elizabeth. Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said weakly. “Just a bad night. I’ll be okay when I get some sleep.”
Mom nodded. “Okay, honey,” she said. She sighed. “Just call me if you need anything, okay?”
I nodded again, pulling the covers up to my chin and closing my eyes. My mom was barely out of my room by the time I fell asleep again. This time, I fell into a deep, dreamless slumber that lasted for hours. When I woke up again, it was early afternoon. The snow from the week before still hadn’t melted, and I felt the chill creeping through the thin walls of our house.
Shivering, I climbed out of bed and got into a shower so hot it burned my scalp. I didn’t care. I wanted to scrub the memory of that creepy dream from my mind. It had seemed so real, almost more like a vision than a dream.
I stayed in the shower until the hot water was gone, then got dressed and curled up in bed with my computer. I felt stupid Googling ‘witches,’ especially when the first dozen or so results were for so-called ‘magic shops’ and tarot cards. I shuddered again. The witches in my dream hadn’t been anything like the hippie women who worked at the herbal store in town. They’d obviously had some kind of dark purpose.
Just as I was about to give up, I saw a small, purple link at the bottom of a site on local New Hampshire history. Just reading the words ‘The Coven’ sent shivers crawling down my spine. I hesitated for a few seconds before clicking. Just what exactly was I doing, anyway? Witches weren’t real. They’d never been real. It had all been paranoia, a response to the religious fervor of the times.
‘You’re being stupid,’ I told myself. ‘Just read the damn page.’
With a lump in my throat, I waited for the text to load. It was one of those older sites, with animated font and old clip art moving from the top of the page to the bottom. I laughed out loud – it looked exactly like a site that my dad had built for my mom back when I was a little kid.
But when my eyes focused on the text, I felt a new shiver of fear.
“New England is home to a rich history of witchcraft. Despite the notoriety of the Salem Witch Trials in the late seventeenth-century, magical activity has yet to cease. In fact, many families in the Jaffrey area are descended from powerful, magical beings. Some even believe in reincarnation – the idea that a soul can live throughout the ages, in different bodies, in different lifetimes.”
I shivered as I read on. ‘This is so dumb,’ I thought with a sigh. ‘I’m home alone, and I’m freaking myself out for no reason. I need to get a freaking life.’
When I looked down at the page again, my mouth went dry. There at the bottom was a painting, identical to the one David had shown me in that old book. Monica, or someone who looked almost exactly like her, was standing in the middle of a circle of witches, smiling serenely as they moved around her.
Breathing hard, I slammed my laptop shut and reached for my phone. I still wasn’t ready to believe that witches existed. But there was definitely something going on, and I was finally willing to admit to myself that it didn’t seem entirely rational.
I texted Steven, asking if I could meet up with him after school. He took a long time to get back to me. By the time he replied, school was about to end. I got dressed in jeans and a heavy sweater, then raced over to the D’Amicos’ house.
Mrs. D’Amico let me in. She gave me a tight smile, and I felt another wave of guilt wash over me. I hadn’t seen her since that day at the hospital. Whenever Steven and I had gotten together since then, we’d gone out. I still felt really uncomfortable in the D’Amico house, but my need to talk to Steven was greater than my need to keep my head down – at least, for now.
Andrea was sitting in the living room, bundled up like an invalid. She’d been out of the hospital for a few weeks, but she was still in a cast from her waist to her foot. Despite this, she didn’t look unhappy. In fact, she looked calm, almost serene.
“Hi,” I said nervously, sitting on the other end of the couch. “How are you, Andrea?”
Andrea gave me a pinched smile. “I’m fine,” she said. “The tutor that’s been coming has been better than going to actual school.” She laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “I keep telling Mom that I don’t want to go back when my leg is healed.”
‘Please, God, let her stay homeschooled,’ I thought, wondering if that would improve things with Monica. Monica had been gone again – for over a month this time – and I couldn’t shake the feeling that Andrea knew something about her disappearance.
Thankfully, Steven came rushing into the room just as Andrea was about to ask me something else. When he saw me, he raised his eyebrows.
“Hey,” Steven said shortly. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” I lied. “I was hoping we could go somewhere, you know, maybe just for a drive.”
Steven looked uncomfortable. “I really shouldn’t leave right now,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder at Andrea. “Mom’s going out to the store.”
Andrea gave me a martyr-like smile. “Steven takes such good care of me,” she said. “Steven, would you mind bringing me a glass of water?”
“Can I have one, too?” I interjected.
“Sure,” Steven said. He darted into the kitchen and came back a few seconds later, holding a glass of ice water. He held it out to Andrea in a very tender way, almost like he was afraid she would break. “Here you go,” Steven said. “Tell me if there’s too much ice in that for you.”
I frowned. “Can I have one, too?”
“Yeah, sure,” Steven said. He jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Glasses are in the second cabinet to the left of the fridge.”
I frowned. Steven and Andrea talked in hushed voices while I was in the kitchen. I knew it was wrong to feel so irritated, but I couldn’t help it – why was he waiting on her like this? Couldn’t she sit on the couch for forty-five fucking minutes while their mom went to the store?
When I came back, Andrea was laughing and Steven looked guilty. He reached behind Andrea and fluffed the couch pillows.
“You want a blanket or anything?”
Andrea shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“Heating pad?” Steven suggested. “You cold?”
“I’m fine,” Andrea repeated.
“What about a snack?”
Andrea giggled. “No, thanks,” she said.
I resisted the urge to groan. “Hey, Steven, can I talk to you for a second?”
Steven grinned and turned toward me. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”
I swallowed uncomfortably. “I mean, in the kitchen. You know, just a few minutes of privacy.”
Steven threw Andrea a nervous look. “I don’t know,” he said. “I really hate to leave her alone.”
“She’ll be fine for two minutes,” I said, my voice edged with exasperation.
“Of course, I will,” Andrea said sweetly. She gave Steven a diabolical smile. “Go on, Steven. I’ll be right here.” She laughed again. “I mean, it’s not like I can get up.”
Steven looked genuinely irritated as he followed me into the kitchen.
“What?” Steven asked plainly. “What is so important that you can’t talk to me about it in front of my sister?”
I frowned. “It’s not that,” I said quickly. “It’s just…oh, I don’t know. Some dream I had, about Monica. I’m really worried about her, and what’s happening.”
Steven narrowed his eyes. “Monica is the reason my sister got hurt,” he said defensively. “I don’t really wanna talk about her right now.”
I sighed. “It’s not about that,” I said quickly. “And your sister’s going to be fine,” I added. “She broke her leg. People break their legs. It happens sometimes.”
Steven glared. “What are you saying, exactly?”
I stared at him. ‘I’m saying that I think you have a weird relationship,’ I thought angrily in my head. ‘I’m saying that I still haven’t forgotten that stupid, creepy photo that Andrea texted you!’
I shrugged, feeling lame. “I…I don’t know. I mean, you don’t really have to wait on her all the time, Steven. She’ll be fine.”
Steven shook his head. “I don’t believe you,” he snarled. “I thought you were supportive, Elizabeth. You’re being so selfish right now. I don’t understand. What the heck has gotten into you?”
Tears stung my eyes. I slammed my glass of water down on the counter and turned on my heels, stalking out of the D’Amicos’ house. Just before I shut the door behind me, I heard Andrea calling out in confusion.
‘Fuck you,’ I thought as I stormed back toward my house. ‘I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m onto you, Andrea, and I’m not gonna let you get away with this.’
---
When I got home, I was shocked to see my parents in the kitchen. Normally, they didn’t get home for hours after work.
“Hey,” I said nervously. “What’s going on?” For a moment, I was terrified that Mom was going to tell me she’d heard from the D’Amicos.
Instead, Mom shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “Your father called me and told me about this…I don’t know. What was it, sweetie?”
My dad cleared his throat. “There’s a town meeting tonight,” he said. “Downtown, at the church.”
I wrinkled my nose. “A town meeting about what?”
“We don’t know, exactly,” Dad said. “We thought you might know. Did something happen at school?”
I shook my head. “I hope not,” I said quickly. “Do you know who’s holding it?”
Dad picked up his phone and scrolled through, looking for something. “The D’Amicos,” he said. “That makes sense. I guess it is their church and all.”
I frowned. “And it doesn’t say anything else?”
Dad shook his head. “No,” he said. “Do you want to go? I can drop you off.”
I sighed. “Not really,” I admitted. “But I kind of think I should. Things have been really weird around here lately.”
Dad nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Come on.”
Dad and I were silent in the car as he drove toward the church. A sense of dread was building up inside of me, and I felt unable to shake it, unable to do anything other than merely sit there and digest everything as it happened.
Dad pulled in front of the church and set the car to park. “Are you okay going in there?”
I frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be? What’s wrong?”
Dad sighed. “I don’t know,” he said. “Just call when you’re ready to come home, and I’ll pick you up, okay?”
I nodded. As I climbed out of the car and walked into the nave of the church, my feeling of dread grew. Soon, I felt numb and shaky and chilled to the bone.
Inside, the church was packed. The pews were filled with all kinds of people from all over town. There was only one family noticeably absent: the Boers.
Andrea was standing behind the pulpit, resting her hands on her crutches. She didn’t look pained or even uncomfortable. She looked joyous, radiant – happier than I’d seen her in years.
“I called this meeting to talk about the state of our town,” Andrea said. Her thin voice carried over the microphone and filled the church.
There was a smattering of applause. As quickly as I could, I slipped into a pew at the back, scooting toward the edge.
“There is evil in our town,” Andrea said. Her voice sounded odd – almost like she was proud of what was happening in Jaffrey.
“Amen!”
“Amen!”
There was a loud, scattered cheering from the audience. Listening to the cheers made the blood in my veins turn to ice.
“There is evil here,” Andrea repeated. She leaned in close and scanned the crowd, turning her face slowly from side to side. There was an odd gleam in her eyes – a gleam that made her appear much older than her childlike face.
“Banish the evil,” someone shouted loudly. “Let us live in peace!”
Andrea sniffed. “There are witches here,” she said softly into the microphone. “There are witches here, tonight, in this town!”
A loud jeering sounded from the audience, and I shivered. Surely, someone was going to stand up and call her out for being so crazy, right? At any moment, I half expected Monica to burst through the doors, yelling about how all of this was complete bullshit.
Instead, to my horror, a group of people stood up and cheered. “Destroy the witches! Burn them! Banish them from our town!”
“We must embrace God,” Andrea thundered into the mic. “We must turn our faces from the evil and back toward the light, back toward the goodness!”
I glanced up and almost gasped when I saw Steven sitting just a few feet behind Andrea at the altar. He shifted and looked vaguely uncomfortable, but nowhere near as uncomfortable as I felt. For the first time, I wondered what exactly it was about Steven that had drawn me in.
“We must fight the evil!” Andrea yelled, her voice rising to a frantic pitch. “We must banish the witches!”
“Kill the witches! Kill the witches!”
Now, the congregation was stomping, clapping, and thumping their hands against the wooden backs of the pews. Sucking in a deep breath, I stood up and raced out of the church.
It was freezing outside, but the chill of the air felt like nothing after being inside that church and listening to Andrea rant like a crazy person. The worst part was, why was everyone humoring her? This was the twenty-first century…what the fuck was going on?