But I can’t get the man’s glowing light and blue eyes out of my head. It’s as though I’m supposed to know him, but I’ve never seen him before.
Not even in my dreams.
I’m not easy to surprise. I see too much.
But this has me shocked to my core, and I have a million questions.
My mother may be dead, but that doesn’t mean I can’t talk to her. I’m just not a medium, so I can’t hear her.
I need the aunts for that.
Lorelei’s and Breena’s moms, Astrid and Hilda, live in a cottage outside of town near the sea. They moved in together several years ago with my mother when they all decided it was high time they were old witches together for the rest of their days.
If you look up eccentric witch in the dictionary, a photo of the three of them would likely be there.
It’s early, just past dawn, when Nera and I walk through their gate and up the steps to the old house. Roses and ivy climb the outside of the building, and it just looks like something old witches would live in.
It’s absolutely divine and totally life goals for when Breena, Lorelei, and I are old ladies.
“Good morning, darling girl,” Astrid says with a smile as she opens the door. “We’re having strawberry rhubarb pie for breakfast.”
I raise an eyebrow and immediately feel calmer and safe. “Count me in.”
Hilda’s in the kitchen, cutting three slices of the pie and setting them on plates.
“The coffee’s hot,” Hilda says and gestures to a mug on the counter. “Help yourself. What a lovely thing to have one of our girls visit so early.”
“I had an odd experience,” I say as I pour the coffee, set the spoon to stirring, and accept a plate from Hilda. “And I need to tell you about it.”
Nera has already curled up under the table, hoping for one of us to drop some crumbs.
“We love odd experiences,” Astrid says with excitement and claps her hands with glee. She has her long, gray hair pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head this morning. “Tell us everything.”
And so, I do. I tell them all about the dreams and walking out to the garden to find the man in the woods. By the time I finish, I realize that none of us has eaten any pie, and the aunts are watching me very closely.
A door closes in the other room.
“Yes, it’s beginning,” Astrid whispers.
“Is that Mom?” I ask and immediately try to open my mind, to will myself to hear her.
“Of course, it is,” Hilda says and holds my hand in understanding. “She may not be here physically anymore, but she still lives here all the same. Still as bossy as ever, too.”
“Is the man I saw last night in the woods the same one who killed her?” The words come out in a rush.
“No,” Astrid replies immediately, then seems to listen to someone speaking in her ear. “Darling, you know that a witch is killed in Salem every year. It’s been that way for hundreds of years.”
“I know,” I whisper. “We all live in constant fear of it. Last year, it was my mother who paid that horrible price.”
“But it wasn’t the man you saw,” Hilda says. “We can’t tell you much more. Honestly, I thought all of this was nothing more than legend.”
“It’s true,” Astrid disagrees. “And it’s begun. You’re about to take the journey you’ve been training for all your life. To be successful, it will take all three of you, plus the others you bring along the way. Trust yourselves. Listen to your guides and your ancestors. They won’t lead you astray.”
“This sounds so ominous. Or like a Marvel movie.”
They both smile.
“It’s much, much better, darling one,” Hilda says. “Or, it could be the ruin of us all.”
Nera whimpers under the table.
“No pressure or anything,” I mutter.
Chapter Two
Jonas
She saw me.
It’s actually not unusual for the townspeople of Salem to see and interact with me, as I’ve gone into town often over the past three hundred and thirty years, but I went under the cloak of darkness last night. I needed a walk to gather my thoughts and try to set my mind at ease.
But my mind is never at ease.
It hasn’t been for the entirety of those three-hundred-plus years.
With that said, I don’t know why I think that taking a simple walk at night will work to soothe my soul, but I try all the same—and often.
I’ve never been spotted as I move between worlds before.
Until her.
With flaming red hair, porcelain skin lit up in the moonlight, and a green robe that billowed around her, she looked like something I might have conjured in my mind.
Something I would have wished for a hundred times over.
A wish that I knew could never come to be.
And yet, there she was, and I was pulled to her as though I knew her. As though my soul knew hers. It was a visceral reaction that left me shaken all night and well into the morning.
Is it possible that a change is coming?
I’m hesitant to let myself hope. I’d had no idea all those years ago when I assured Louisa that everything would be okay, that we’d still be caught up in the curse centuries later.
If I had known, would I have taken the same path?
It’s a question I’ve asked myself many times, and I never have a definitive answer.
Because I just don’t know how all of this will end.
It’s early in the day as I walk through Hallows End. We live under constant cloud cover, casting the village in a dreary, gray pall. I’m the only one from Hallows End to have seen the sun since 1692. The clouds occasionally part some nights so we can see the moon and stars, but even those moments are fleeting.
It frustrates me to no end that I’ve seen the changes in technology and know the people I care about work harder than they need to. We have no running water, no electricity, and no refrigeration. Those things alone would ease the burdens of this village tremendously.
But I can’t tell them about any of it.
And even if I did, it wouldn’t matter. They would forget everything by the next new moon anyway.
“Brother Jonas,” Louisa says with a happy smile and a wave. She’s holding a bushel of lavender, freshly picked from her garden. “The herbs and flowers are still growing so well this autumn. I know that we all grow weary of the gloomy sky and rain, but the crops are happy.”
“’Tis been a rainy autumn to be sure,” I agree, as I always do. Goddess, how I miss her. How I wish I was able to confide in her the way I once could. “You are right. The crops will thrive with the added moisture. Your lavender is beautiful.”
“Chamomile and parsley are coming along, as well,” she says with a nod. “I’ll make some more parsley oil for you and the apothecary. The Stebbins boy had an earache two weeks past, and I would not want any infection to return.”
“I know Mrs. Stebbins will be grateful,” I reply. “Thank you, Louisa.”
I wave and smile as I pass through the village. I walk this same path every morning, making sure that nothing has changed. That everything is as it should be.
“Good morning, Jonas,” Alistair Goode says with a warm smile. Alistair is the town mayor and the Christian minister. As such, I stay on his good side, but I do not trust him. There was a time that he would have led a mob to hang me—and others like me.