Kylie made an effort to smile. She didn’t know what the hell had happened, but she tried to touch her body surreptitiously, to make sure she wasn’t bleeding. It had all been too real: the feel of the knife; the terror, the sheer horror of knowing she was being brutally murdered.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said, laughing desperately to shake the feeling that had come over her. “Sir, you’re very good,” she told Dr. Sayers to ease his fear. After all, he had made the bride-to-be very happy. “It’s just like I was there,” she said.
“And?” Corrine asked nervously.
When Kylie hesitated, Nancy, a petite redhead, spoke up, “You were screaming, crying for help...begging.”
“Well, sadly, I guess my last life wasn’t so good,” Kylie said lightly. “I apparently had something going with a gorgeous monster of a man—and he killed me.”
“That’s awful. I’m so sorry,” Corrine said with distress. “This was all my fault.”
“No one’s fault—a truly unique experience!” Kylie said quickly. This was supposed to be a wonderful weekend. Corrine wanted to go to Salem and do some of the old things that had helped them escape the stress of final exams, like staying at their favorite inn and strolling through the funky shops—so many of them witchcraft themed, some owned by true believers and some by smart capitalists. And that night, they would have drinks and dinner at their favorite witch-themed restaurant on Essex, the Cauldron. A packed itinerary.
Which gave Kylie an out now.
She offered Dr. Sayers her most effervescent smile. “That was great—and reminded me we’ve still got a lot to get done tonight. Guys, I’m so sorry if I freaked you all out! But it was really amazing. Truly. So...” She paused, looking at her threesome of concerned friends. “Onward?”
She wasn’t seeing any visions and she wasn’t feeling the agony of the knife, but she was anxious to move and go—anywhere. Out of the doctor’s office.
And forget.
“We have to take care of the bill,” Nancy said quietly.
“Looked after it with the receptionist when we got here,” Kylie said, never so happy she had chosen to take care of a bill—and that she had done it discreetly ahead of time.
Corrine protested, but the rest of them argued that this was her special weekend, and they wouldn’t hear of her paying for anything. But Nancy and Jenny turned on Kylie—she shouldn’t have paid the whole thing.
“You guys get dinner,” she said breezily, standing and collecting her purse and jacket.
Assuring Dr. Sayers once again she was all right, Kylie managed to herd the others out to the street. Slowly, she got them all moving through shop after shop, looking at charming local art and handmade jewelry, along with the T-shirts, bumper stickers, incense, and souvenirs that could be found just about anywhere in the city.
At last, they headed to the Cauldron.
They ordered their first round at the bar. One of the bartenders was named Matt, and he was friendly, tall, dark, and charming. His partner, Cindy, was just as cute and perky. Eventually, as a dinner table cleared, they settled into one of the restaurant’s upholstered booths.
“You know, it was Laurie Cabot who made it all what it is today,” Nancy said, looking back at a painting of a typical evil witch—a crone in a black hat and cape, stirring a cauldron—at the entrance to the restaurant. “In the 1970s, Governor Dukakis gave her the title Official Witch of Salem. And, of course, the practice of Wicca has nothing to do with the devil-worshipping, dancing-naked-in-the-moonlight witchcraft those poor people were accused of. I mean, I remember as a kid...it was always so sobering. How horrible to imagine people were convicted on spectral evidence!”
The four of them knew all the theories regarding the 1692 trials. Nancy was from Marblehead, just a stone’s throw from Salem and, at one time, an area caught up in the witchcraft hysteria as well. Her family was all but entrenched here. Her mother belonged to the Daughters of the American Revolution and wanted Nancy to belong as well.
Jenny’s parents had come from Germany as children but settled north of Boston, in Lynn. Corrine had been born and raised right in Boston, and for Kylie, it had been Swampscott—a tiny place just outside of Salem.
“Well, I, for one, do not agree with the idea about the mold in the wheat in the least,” Jenny said. “Everyone in the area would have eaten the same wheat.”
“Just the art of suggestion,” Kylie countered. “I mean, seriously, there were a zillion property disputes going on at the time. And kids were bored out of their skulls. It was dark as all hell at night, and the girls had Tituba telling them all kinds of tales. Mix that with the fact that you got into trouble for just about anything, you were afraid of native attacks, the woods were terrifying—and you could hear authority figures talking about their problems with their neighbors. Not to mention the fact that in Europe—”
“Hey,” Corrine said, “you weren’t being attacked as a witch back in the seventeenth century, were you, Kylie?”
Kylie shook her head.
“It drives me crazy when people depict them as being burned!” Nancy said. “No witches were burned here in America—they all went to the gallows.”
“Salem has a long history, and not all to do with the Witch Trials of 1692,” Kylie reminded them.
Just then, a tall man with shaggy blond hair walked over. “Hey, ladies. Just stopping by to say hello and welcome to Salem. I’m Carl Fisher. I lead ghost tours. I start out just down the street in about an hour. I hope you’ll join me. I mean, I really hope you’ll join me.”
“Maybe tomorrow night,” Corrine said politely.
Carl looked them all over and smiled. “That’ll be nice. Oh, if you want some lowdown on the town, I come back here after. I’d love to help you out.”
“I’m from Marblehead,” Nancy said, staring at him. “And we’ve all been here many, many times. But thank you.”
“We’re all from the great Commonwealth of Massachusetts,” Jenny added.
He was cute and friendly and obviously interested in them. Kylie knew her friends were trying not to be rude. But Corrine was getting married, Nancy was in a serious relationship, Jenny had just gotten out of a relationship and wasn’t ready for even a rebound. And Kylie had been working hours and hours per day, getting up to speed at her new job. She was too busy to date. Then again, she hadn’t been interested in the dating scene for a while now.
Carl looked at them all hopefully for a moment longer.
“Girls’ weekend,” Kylie told him, wincing slightly. She hoped her tone and body language were right—they thought he was fine, they just weren’t ready to welcome a stranger into their evening. “Corrine here is going to be married.”