Salem's Revenge Complete Boxed Set (14 page)

“Not yet,” I say, “but Graves and his gang certainly warrant consideration.”

At that, Bil laughs and the tension is broken. Three more stitches and he says, “Done. You can stop gripping the table, you big baby.”

I let out a heavy breath and relax my fingers, which are aching. “Thanks,” I say, admiring the neat row of stitches across my brown skin. “You must’ve stitched up a lot of holey shirts to get that good at it.”

He nods, but his eyes are full of fire. “I’ll tell you why I’m here if you want,” he says.

“I didn’t ask why you’re here.” But I was wondering it.

“You didn’t have to ask.”

“Okay.”

“I met someone,” Bil says, his face expressionless.

Laney stops pacing and stares in our direction.

“Who?” I ask. Hex continues lapping up the water. Trish’s eyes are closed, as if she’s asleep.

“A girl.”

A pit forms in my stomach. I know what it’s like to meet a girl.

Beth Beth Beth.

I don’t want to ask but I have to. “Where is she?”

He shakes his head and although his face remains stoic, he’s forced to wipe a stray tear from his cheek. His gaze meets the ceiling. Mine meets my feet.

Beth Beth Beth.

Did the witches kill Bil’s girl? Even as I think it, I wonder if I’m really asking about Beth.

“Her name was Ellie,” Bil says. I can feel his eyes touch my face, but I don’t look at him. Can’t look at him. Can’t see my pain reflected back at me.
Stop
, I silently implore. “I felt drawn to her from the moment I met her. She was…like no other girl I’d laid eyes on.”

“Seems like
every
girl catches your interest,” Laney says. Bil’s eyes dart to her and I can see the flash of anger that tightens his face, but then he turns back to me when I speak.

“The witches killed her,” I say. Not a question. Am I talking about Beth or Ellie? Even I don’t know anymore.

“No,” Bil says, to my surprise. I look up, meeting his piercing stare. “Worse.”

What could be worse than death? My attention is piqued, and I notice Hex is watching our conversation with interest, too, his ears perked up.

“She was a Siren,” Bil says. My heart skips a beat. Hex barks.

“You fell for a witch?” Laney says. “Why does that not surprise me?”

Bil doesn’t have to say yes or nod; his eyes confirm her statement.

“Ellie tried to kill you?” I ask.

Bil’s hands are tightened into fists, his knuckles white. “Not at first,” he says. “We lived together, getting to know each other. I even stopped witch hunting, which should have been a warning sign. If I was in my right mind, I’d never have stopped. The world was screwed up and I barely cared—not when I was with her. She was perfect. So perfect…” He trails off, lost in a memory.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. Even Laney pulls up a chair and sits, staring at her hands. I can feel the blood throbbing in my shoulder. Hex whines, breaking whatever spell Bil is under.

“It was all a lie,” he says. “She was lulling me into a strange trance, spinning her web around me. I was so stupid.”

She pops into my head. The red/white witch. Could it be? Could Bil’s story be the answer to my many questions about my uncanny attraction to the beautifully deadly witch? I never even considered she might be a Siren, not when she was throwing around lightning bolts and casting spells. Am I really that stupid, too? I keep my thoughts to myself as Bil continues.

“Ellie—if that’s even her real name—was grooming me.”

“Grooming you for what?” Laney asks, before I’m able to.

Bil ignores Laney’s question and continues. “She thought she had me, that I was too far gone to protect myself, but she was wrong. One day, after spending a perfect afternoon together, she told me we were having company over for dinner. Company! Like we lived in a normal world where people hosted parties and ate dinner and listened to music.”

“What did you do?”

Bil smiles but it’s not a real smile. “I helped her clean the house we were living in. We had to get ready. That’s what I kept saying. ‘Yes, dear, we have to get ready.’ And she’d reward me with a kiss each time I said it. It’s like I was on drugs, walking through a heavy mist, unable to control my arms or legs or mouth. But somewhere—somewhere deep inside—I was still there, screaming at myself, saying ‘What the hell are you doing, Bil? This isn’t real! It’s NOT REAL!’” Bil really shouts the last bit, his eyes wide and wild, his mouth hanging open, a few spit bubbles sprouting from his lips. Instinctively, I lean back, closer to Hex, whose tail is flat against the backs of his legs.

Laney’s hand finds her shotgun, which is resting on the table.

Bil doesn’t seem to notice our reactions. He wipes away the spit and says, “I clung to that voice, to that last piece of me. I tried to make it bigger, but it was like pushing against steel walls. I could scream inside until my chest ached, but my lips were silent, answering only when Ellie wanted me to.

“The company arrived, a dozen exotic and beautiful witches—all Sirens. They touched my hair and arms like I was a pet, and I just smiled like an idiot. They each brought ‘guests’ with them, both men and women. The person I was on the outside was so happy to meet the guests. I looked like a fool, clapping and shaking hands and hugging them. But inside I knew: these people were slaves, just like me.”

My lips are tight, my chest, too. That could’ve been me. Could still be me. For some reason the red/white witch is targeting me. Have I been lucky enough to resist her charms so far, or is she simply weaker than Bil’s Siren? “But you’re here,” I say.

Bil grins under the chandelier light, a wicked, proud expression of glee. “She underestimated me,” he says. “I found strength beyond any I’ve previously known. Somehow I fought off her spell and reclaimed my body. I killed her. I killed them all.”

He bites his lip so hard that a drop of blood forms, smearing on his tongue and teeth. No wonder Bil has changed. Anyone who has known false love and betrayal would understand. “You freed the other slaves?” Laney asks. There’s a hint of respect in her voice.

His smile vanishes and he screws up his face. “I didn’t have a choice!” he says, his words filled with venom. Oh God, what did he do? “Their masters died, but the spell wasn’t broken. Only the force of their own wills could break the spells.” My heart is pounding out a staccato beat. Mr. Jackson never told me that.

“What did you do?” I say, unable to keep the accusation out of my voice.

Bil stands, knocking the chair over, looming over me. “Get out!” he roars, pointing at the door. “I didn’t bring you here for this.” Hex barks and Trish’s eyes finally open. Together, they stand. Laney tries to pick up her shotgun, but Bil’s rifle is aimed at her chest in a second. “Don’t even think about it,” he says.

I stand slowly, my palms out in front of me, trying to calm him down. “Listen, Bil, I’m just trying to understa—”

“No one will ever understand! I had to kill them or they would’ve killed me. I killed their masters and revenge was all they had left. Get out,” he repeats.

“Okay,” I say, my voice calm and soothing. “We’re going now. Thanks for everything and I’m sorry. So sorry.”

Bil stands there trembling as we back away, waves of anger rolling through his tight muscles and fists. “You don’t know me,” he says.

“I do,” I say. “This isn’t you.” I take another step back, sharply aware of the way his gun is shaking in his hands, how it dances from Laney to me and back again. At least he’s not aiming at Trish or Hex.

“It is now,” he says. “There’s no going back. I know what I have to do and I’m going to do it.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You were only protecting yourself.” What exactly does he think he has to do?

“They didn’t do anything wrong. They weren’t evil,” he says, and for a moment, he almost sounds normal again.

“The Sirens made them evil,” I say. “In a way, you saved them from a tortured life.”

Laney starts to object, but I silence her with a raised hand. Even the mildest smartass comment from her could set him off. And she doesn’t seem to know the meaning of the word mild.

He laughs, but it’s full of Crazy with a capital C. We’ll be lucky to get out without bullet holes in our chests. “I saved only myself,” he says. “I have sinned; nothing can change that.”

Two quick steps back and I’m looking at him from the entranceway to the kitchen, blocking him and his gun from the others. “You can be whoever you want to be,” I say. “Thanks for everything. May our paths cross under better circumstances.”

“Not likely,” Bil says.

With that, I hold my breath and turn, half-expecting to hear the boom of his gun behind me. When all I hear is heavy breathing and the scrape of his chair as he rights it and sits back down, I let out a deep breath and stride through the foyer, exiting the magged-up house just behind Laney, who pushes Trish forward after Hex.

I don’t fully relax until the door is shut behind us. Hex rubs up against my legs, almost like a cat. “Thanks for introducing me to your friend,” Laney says.

I can only frown and descend the steps. Although I don’t look back, I can feel Bil watching us through the peephole.

A
misty morning sunrise welcomes my eyes open, sending slices of red and orange through the trees like colored shards of glass. I blink twice, trying to get my vision to clarify.

Pain is unraveling down my arm, and it’s caused by my injured shoulder, which I was sleeping on. Awesome. Rolling over, I freeze when someone cries out.

“God, Carter, you’re like a gorilla, all arms and legs. You hit me about twenty times while I was sleeping.”

Laney’s head pops up beside me. I scratch my chin, remembering finding the clearing last night, laying down to sleep, Laney and Trish on one side and Hex and I on the other. How did she get so…close?

“I think I’d have been safer shivering on the other side of the clearing,” Laney says. “All I wanted was a little body warmth, and instead I got domestic abuse.” Laney had taken the first watch, me the second, and Hex, who’s never failed to alert me when danger is near, the third. But I could’ve sworn there were a few feet between us when I roused Hex and finally closed my eyes.

“Sorry?” I say, suddenly feeling awkward that I slept the entire night next to someone I barely know.

“I’ll tie your arms and legs together before bed next time,” she says.

As she busies herself rummaging through our packs for some food, I stare at Trish, who’s still curled up on the ground. My mind cycles through yesterday’s events. At least I got one answer. The red/white witch must be a Siren. I should’ve thought of it sooner, but maybe part of the magic she wields is that her victims don’t even realize what she’s doing to them. But why is she targeting me? Is it because I’m a witch hunter? Is that why Bil was targeted, too? Are the Sirens seeking out witch hunters, adding them to their slave harem like a child’s collection of dolls? And how did I manage to resist her charms? Am I stronger than Bil? He’s one of the strongest witch hunters I’ve ever met, so I’d find that hard to believe. I sigh in frustration. My one answer has led to a half-dozen more questions.

“Don’t want to go back into town,” I moan to myself.

“Town?” Laney says. “Look, I’ve followed you far enough, almost getting me and my sister killed. If you want to keep travelling with us, we’re staying the hell away from that town and Bil Nez. Comprendes?”

She’s right. Going back into town is suicide. And anyway, the Necros’ trail might be dead, but I have a pretty good idea of where they were headed. According to my map, Pittsburgh is the next big city in this direction. But what’s in Pittsburgh? Could that be where they’re taking all the bodies?

“Well?” Laney says. “What’s it going to be?”

I look at her, my body tensing. Something’s not right. Everything’s quiet, except for the wind rustling the leaves. It’s too quiet, I realize.

Listen to the birds; they’ll tell you the story of your enemies.

The birds’ silence tells me we’re not alone.

“Where’s Hex?” I ask.

Before Laney can respond, I hear the crunching of leaves, the snapping of twigs, and see a big black-white form bounding toward me through the forest. Hex barely avoids slamming into me as he skids to a halt and barks at my pack, nudging it with his nose.

The message is obvious:
Go!

I grab my backpack, shouting for Laney to do the same and to get her sister moving. Trish is awake so fast it’s as if she was only pretending to sleep, and together we take off, following my dog’s instincts, not even taking the time to slip our arms through the straps of our packs. And it’s a good thing because I can already hear heavy footsteps crashing through the undergrowth.

The End.
They’ve found us.

Thorns bite at my legs, branches slash at my cheeks, but I don’t stop running, not even when I scrape my stitched up shoulder against the bark of a tree, my skin screaming with pain. Legs churning, the world’s a whirling blur of nature and glittering beams of sunlight and flashes of Hex’s tail, leading us through the dense forest.

And then we break free, out into the open, my face and arms and legs stinging with scratches and tears, my heart ripping a hole in my chest, my eyelashes dripping with sweat. Hex flies ahead, literally. His paws continue to push him forward, like he’s running, but they’re not touching the ground. It’s all I can do to keep him in sight as he crosses the same grassy field we passed through last night. And despite Laney’s desire to avoid it, we charge back into town.

All we can do is hope there aren’t any witch gangs around.

Hex, who’s now back on the ground running like a normal dog, leads us through the streets, zigzagging what seems to be a random path through the city. Shouts and footsteps follow us close behind, but I don’t look back.

After two quick turns down interconnecting alleys, Hex skids to a stop and then dives through an open doorway. Frantic and out of breath, we follow him inside. I push the metal door shut behind us quietly, leaning my ear against it. Footsteps patter past as The End just misses us yet again. Thanks to Hex’s keen instincts, we’re safe again—at least for the moment.

There are no rooms on the first floor of what appears to be an apartment building, just a broken elevator and a staircase. We take the stairs to the second floor, my footsteps, despite my best efforts to tiptoe, echoing all the way to the top.

The halls of the second floor are as empty and silent as the rest of the town. We could go higher, but my training won’t allow it.
Assume the worst. Always have a contingency plan.
If we have to get out fast, I’d rather jump from a second-floor window than a story or two higher.

Every door is smashed open; each apartment’s occupants were likely sleeping when Salem’s Revenge hit. The smell is unbearable. No Necros have been through here to collect the dead.

“I could really use a clothespin right now,” Laney says, holding her nose.

Also holding my nose, I poke my head in each room until I find one that’s unoccupied by the dead. Whoever lived here must’ve been out when the witch apocalypse hit. Working a night shift or out partying, perhaps. There’s a good chance they never made it home. The lock on the door is shattered, wood splinters sprinkled at the entrance, but the rest of the room is untouched. We move inside and I close the door, propping a chair in front of it, pretending that it will make one iota of difference if a witch wants to get in. The closed door helps with the smell, although not fully.

While Hex laps at a puddle of water I pour on the tile floor, and Trish randomly starts rummaging through a chest of drawers, Laney and I peek out one of the windows. A pair of birds wheel overhead, chasing each other on the indecisive winds, which are constantly changing direction. Nothing else moves, except the branches of the trees lining the streets.

My dog whines and I noticed the puddle is now just a tongue-smeared film on the tile. Hex cocks his head as if to say, “More?”

“We’re running out,” I say, “but since you saved our lives…” I slosh some more water out of the bottle. Hex slurps it up with three licks of his tongue.

“What are we going to do?” I wonder aloud.

“Wait them out,” Laney says. “Eventually they’ll move on, like they always do.” She has more experience staying in one city than I do.

Hex chases a cockroach across the floor. When intelligence meets curiosity, curiosity usually wins.

I wonder what I’m really doing out here with a magic dog, a trigger-happy girl and her mute sister, and a trail of dead witches in my wake. Am I really still trying to find Beth and Xave? In my heart (shut up!) I know they’re (don’t say it, don’t you dare say it!)…

I pull my journal from my backpack, which is torn and frayed after today’s battle. Rummage for a pencil…

Flip to a blank page…

Stare at the white, lined paper…

…

Press the tip of the pencil to the page, and write:

DEAD.

My heart beats heavily in my chest, shaking my hand. Hex, having lost the cockroach, sits on my feet and chuffs. I erase the word. Erase it again, scrubbing so hard I almost break through the page. But still, no matter how hard I erase, I can still make out the thin, ghostly letters.

DEAD.

I tear out the page, ball it up, and chuck it across the room.

“Are you okay?” Laney asks.

I flip to the next page and begin to write.