“That’s an old-fashioned puritan name,” I say with a grin, and he answers with one of his own.
“I should go,” he says and stands from his seat. “Thank you for dinner. And for the conversation.”
“It was my pleasure,” I reply as I walk him outside and down the sidewalk that leads to my garden gate. Nera follows and waits at my hip as Jonas walks out and turns to wave at me.
When he’s in the trees, and I see the lights begin to flicker around him, I look down at Nera and whisper, “Let’s go.”
We follow behind Jonas, and I watch as he approaches the bridge and walks over it, beginning to disappear.
I pick up my stride, hurrying behind, and before the light can dissipate, Nera and I are suddenly thrust through what feels like a freezer, only to suddenly reemerge on the edge of a village I’ve never seen before.
“Oh, my goddess.”
Chapter Four
Jonas
I whirl around at the sound of Lucy’s voice and hurry back to her, taking her shoulders in my hands as I shake my head.
“Shh.”
“What in the hell is this place?” she demands as she takes me in, scowling when she sees my clothes. “What are you wearing?”
“Keep your voice down.” I glance around to make sure that no one heard her. It’s late enough that most everyone is indoors for the evening but not asleep. When I see that no one’s around, I take her hand in mine, trying to ignore the jolt of awareness that shoots through me, and whisper, “Follow me. And be quiet.”
Without a word, we hurry to my cabin, and I usher Lucy and Nera inside, taking another look around before closing and locking the door behind us.
My cabin is dark and cold, so I wave my hand to light the fire in the hearth and the lanterns for light, then turn and find Lucy staring at me with wide, green eyes.
“Ouch,” she mutters and shakes her hand as if something just bit her. When she glances down and scowls, I close the gap between us to take a look.
A crescent moon is now on her right hand, at the base of her thumb.
“This can’t be happening,” I whisper.
“You said that before,” she says. “What? What can’t be happening? And just where are we? I live fifty yards from here, and I’ve never seen this place.”
“Not where. When.”
A frown forms between her eyebrows, and I pace away to set the kettle on the grate above the fire, preparing to make us both some tea.
“I don’t understand,” she says, walking through my living space. Nera has already curled up by the fire as if he’s done it a hundred times before. “What is this place? Is this a reenactment camp for the tourists?”
“No.” I clear my throat and offer her a seat. When she finally takes it, I sit across from her, brace my elbows on my knees, and stare at my hands.
“You have the same mark,” she says with surprise, reaching over to trace her fingertips over my hand. “Is it a bite?”
“A crescent moon,” I reply, my stomach jittering at the feel of her fingers. “A soul mark.”
Lucy’s eyes narrow, and then she simply says, “You need to talk to me, Jonas.”
“First of all, I need you to keep an open mind and know that you’re absolutely safe with me.”
She just raises an eyebrow, so I blow out a breath and drag my hand down my face.
“I’ve wanted to talk about this for three hundred and thirty years, and now that I can, I’m not sure where to begin.”
“My mom always said the beginning is a good place to start.”
“You’re right.” I stand and pace to my desk, pulling out my journal in case I need to reference any notes, and then take my seat once more. “The witch trials of 1692 were far worse than what history remembers. They murdered more than twenty people. Far more. And although Hallows End was a separate town from Salem, we weren’t safe from the wrath of those hell-bent on killing anyone…different.”
“Hallows End? Is that where I am?”
“Yes. Hallows End in 1692.”
She sits back and eyes me warily. “That’s impossible.”
“I would have thought so, too.” I glance around my modest cabin and gesture to the stove, the lanterns. “But as you can see, there are no modern conveniences here. We are held forever in this time, at least until I can break the curse.”
“What curse?”
“The curse of the blood moon,” I reply and watch as Lucy gasps. “What is it?” I ask in response to her reaction.
“A weird coincidence,” she mutters, shaking her head. “My shop is called Blood Moon Apothecary, and I never understood why I had to name it that. I just knew that I did.”
“Fascinating,” I murmur.
“So, the town is stuck in 1692, but you townspeople can move back and forth from Hallows End and Salem?” she asks.
“No. Only I can. And don’t ask me why, because I’m not sure. I’m also the only one here who remembers and knows what happened. Each month with the new moon, time resets one month, and they live through the same twenty-eight days, year after year, century after century.”
“You’re the only one who knows?”
I nod slowly. “And now, so do you. I don’t know how you were able to follow me here. No one, aside from me, has been in or out since 1692.”
“Who cursed the village?”
“I did.” I lick my lips and feel my stomach jump at the thought of that night so many years ago. “The witch hunters were headed our way, and because so many in this village are witches, I knew that we would all be slaughtered.”
“Many. So, not everyone here has magic?”
“No. There are also Christians here. And still others who have no particular faith at all. But the curse was placed on the whole village, not just those with magic.”
She nods. “Go on.”
“The decision was made to cast the curse, with the intention of being able to break it once the hysteria was over. We would essentially make Hallows End disappear, along with any knowledge that it ever existed. We should have been caught here for no more than two years.”
“Instead, it’s been more than three hundred years.”
I exhale, relieved at the understanding in her gorgeous eyes. “Yes.”
“Jonas.” To my horror, tears fill her eyes, but when I reach for her, she shakes her head and stands to walk to the fire, staring down into the flames.
Nera whimpers and sits up so he can lick his mistress’s hand. She brushes her fingers over his head and whispers, “All is well.”
That she would work to soothe her familiar when she was in turmoil herself says so much about the woman Luciana is. It makes me ache to touch her. Before I can get up to do just that, she turns and pins me with those luminous green eyes, her lashes glistening with moisture.
“This is a far worse punishment for you than death.”
I feel my hands flex in and out of fists, and then I simply nod. “There are days that’s true, yes.”
“I can help you lift the curse,” she says. “I told you earlier—there are powerful people in our coven. I know that if we put our heads together, we can lift this and set you all free.”