I blinked. “Did you guys have a fight?” My stomach churned. ‘Why is he calling me?’ I wondered. ‘Why is he telling me all of this?’
“No, it’s nothing about Monica,” David said. He cleared his throat. “I haven’t been able to visit her in a few months because of this stupid, fucking curfew.”
My heart stopped in my chest. “You have a curfew there, too?”
David laughed humorlessly. “Oh, shit, it’s not just here?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Anyone under eighteen has to be inside, at home, by seven-thirty.” My wrists ached, and I shivered. For a moment, I debated telling David about what had happened that night. But I decided against it. Sharing something so personal probably wasn’t a good idea.
“Anyone under eighteen can’t leave town, except with a parent or guardian,” David said. He clucked his tongue. “It’s fucking insane. They’ve got cops set up at all the roads that lead outside of town. My friend tried a couple of weeks ago, and he was in jail for the whole night.”
I shivered. Against my better judgment, I blurted out, “Yeah, something similar happened to me.”
David fell quiet for a moment.
“I know this is crazy,” I said quickly, “but I think you were right.”
“About what?”
I lowered my voice and stepped away from the door, turning toward the window. “About Monica…and that whole witch thing,” I said quickly. “I know it sounds crazy, but I think there’s something supernatural going on here. And Monica’s in trouble. She disappeared for another month before Christmas.”
There was a long pause.
“David? You still there?”
“She doesn’t tell me anything anymore,” David said. He sounded bitter. “I haven’t really talked to her lately.”
‘Then why are you calling me?’
“Either way, she’s in trouble,” I said quickly. “And we have to help her. I don’t know. I asked her, like, if I could join…you know, like join her…” I trailed off.
“Her coven?” David snorted. “That’s what it’s called.”
I rolled my eyes. ‘Still insufferable,’ I thought. ‘Even if you are being a lot nicer.’
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “She got really mad and told me to stay out of it.”
David sighed. “Monica’s like that,” he said slowly. “She doesn’t want to accept any help from anyone if there’s even a chance she thinks she can do it herself.”
“Something really awful is happening,” I whispered, gripping the phone.
“It’ll probably get worse before it gets better,” David said. He sighed. “That’s usually the way things go.”
I swallowed. “I should probably get off the phone.”
“Okay. Bye, Elizabeth.”
It wasn’t until after we’d hung up that I realized I still had no idea why David had called in the first place. Just as I was texting to ask why, a loud knocking sounded from downstairs.
I shivered. Pressing my ear to my bedroom door, I listened as Mom walked into the foyer.
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Hartsell, is your daughter, Elizabeth, at home?”
Cold panic raced down my spine, and I felt rooted to the spot in fear as I heard the front door close and booming voices ascend from the downstairs foyer. My mom’s words were incoherent, a buzzy whine next to the booming voice of the cops.
“Elizabeth!” Mom yelled. “Can you come down here, please?”
My legs were shaking as I walked down the stairs. Sure enough, two cops were standing there, in full uniform. One of them was holding a pair of handcuffs.
“Elizabeth Hartsell,” one of the cops boomed.
I tried to look calm. “Yes?”
“You’ve been discussing forbidden topics,” one of the men said. “Come with us, please.”
In terror, I grabbed my Mom’s sleeve and tried to cling to her. “Mom, don’t let them take me,” I begged. “You can’t let them arrest me. I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Ma’am, we’ll need to take your daughter down to the station,” one of the cops said.
My mom turned to me in dismay. “Elizabeth, what are they talking about?”
“I don’t know!” I shouted. “Please, don’t let them take me!”
“We’ve received reports that your daughter has been discussing witchcraft, both in person and telephonically,” the bulkier of the two cops said. “And as you know, as of the decree from last November that is a forbidden topic that carries punishment to the fullest extent of the law.”
“It’s not against the law to talk about witchcraft,” I said quickly. “There’s nothing in the Constitution about it!”
My mom was shaking her head. “Elizabeth, what is going on here?”
“I don’t know,” I begged. “Just please, please, don’t let them take me anywhere!”
“Step aside, ma’am,” one of the cops said to my mom. She moved out of the way slowly, as if in a trance. When the cop grabbed my wrists and forced them behind my back, I started to cry. The feel of cold metal encircling my wrists brought a flash to panic to the front of my mind, and I screamed.
Mom was staring at me like she’d never seen me before as the cops hustled me out of the door and into the cold, snowy night. They dragged me across the front yard and pushed me into the backseat of a police cruiser. I was shivering violently – I was only wearing thin pajamas – but the cops didn’t seem to notice. As they backed out of my parents’ driveway, they started chatting amiably about an annual police barbecue.
“Hey,” I said sharply, “I didn’t do anything wrong! You have to let me go!”
“I’d advise you to keep your mouth shut,” one of the cops snarled.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I repeated.
The cop rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” he said. He turned back around, settling against the seat.
By the time we got to the police station downtown, my chest was so tight with anxiety that I thought I was going to throw up. Just like before, the cops left me in the car for almost an hour while they went inside. By the time they dragged me into the station, I was actually glad to be out of the cold. I was shivering and shaking as one of the cops dragged me down a familiar hallway.
But unlike last time, the room was full of people from all around Jaffrey. I recognized a couple of kids from school, as well as this old guy who used to live across the street from my parents. They were all handcuffed – silent and miserable.
“Is everybody here for the same thing?” I asked when the cop had left us alone. “Witchcraft?”
One of the kids glared at me. “Shut up,” he said. “They don’t like us talking.”
“I don’t like them hauling me downtown when I didn’t do anything wrong,” I cried loudly. “This isn’t fair!”
This time, multiple people glared, even my old neighbor.
“Elizabeth, keep your mouth shut,” he said. “This isn’t about you.”
Tears of frustration welled up in my eyes, and I sank down against the wall. The room smelled of sweat and piss and shit, and soon, no matter how I tried to block it out, the odor was trapped in my sinuses. I felt sick and tired and miserable. The metal cuffs were worse than the plastic ones. This time, the metal cut sharply into my skin, and soon my fingers were slippery with blood. Moaning softly, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall.
The cops never came back for me. They came back a few times during the night with kids – probably for violating curfew – but no one talked. No one even whispered.
And just like last time, there was no offer of food, water, or a toilet.
I closed my eyes and thought about David, thought about Monica. In my panic when I’d heard the knock on the door, I’d dropped my phone without sending a text. ‘Stupid,’ I thought. ‘I should’ve texted Monica and told her what was happening. She’s probably not even here. She’s probably in the woods, with her stupid fucking coven.’
I felt bleak and h
elpless. If someone had been listening to my phone call with David, it had taken practically no time for them to arrive at my front door and arrest me. It was chilling to realize that my hometown had become a police state overnight. And what was with the talk about the decree?
Suddenly, I remembered that night at the church when Andrea had begun railing against witches. I shivered.
Just then, the door swung open. A cop glanced down at his clipboard.
“Elizabeth Hartsell?”
I scrambled to my feet, wincing at the pain in my arms. “Yeah?”
“Come with me.”
My heart was thudding nervously as I followed the cop out to the hall. Just before we turned the corner, he grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me around. I heard the click of metal against metal, and suddenly, my hands were free. They were numb and purple, and I rubbed them until tears came to my eyes.
Monica was waiting in the lobby, looking oddly distant. “Come on,” she said.
Wordlessly, I followed her. It was early morning. Birds were singing, and the sun was making a valiant effort to appear from behind a gray cover of clouds.
Monica handed me a jacket. “It’s probably too big,” she said. “I borrowed it from Brian. I thought my stuff would be too small.”
I pulled it on, wrapping it around myself. It smelled comforting, like wood smoke. Monica turned and started walking away from town, away from my house.
“Where are we going?”
Monica didn’t reply. She set a fast pace, and I had to jog to keep up with her. I felt weak and hungry and tired, but I could feel adrenaline pumping through my veins as Monica walked on. Finally, I realized we were going to her house.
“Monica, I wanna go home,” I said, yawning. “I’m starving and tired.”
“I know.”
“So, I’m gonna go,” I said. “I’ll come over later, okay?”
Monica shook her head. “No,” she said. “Come with me.”
I felt my legs start to move again, and I looked down in horror to see that I was still following her. Fear settled in my chest, and I tried to breathe deeply, but I couldn’t quell the rising sense of panic.
When we were almost to Monica’s house, she turned and led me into the woods. My feet were soaking wet and freezing – I’d left my house for the police station in a pair of slippers – but Monica didn’t slow down. She led me deeper and deeper into the woods.
After about twenty minutes, Monica turned to me.
“Elizabeth?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you still want to join the coven?”
I nodded. My teeth were chattering. “Yes,” I squeaked. “Yes.”
Monica closed her eyes and lifted her arms into the air. Suddenly, everything went black. I screamed as my body started to fall through space, my limbs thrashing and waving.
“Elizabeth…” Someone in the distance was calling my name.
I tried to squint, but I couldn’t see anything other than an inky sea of black. I was slowing down, and soon I was just floating, like I was in the middle of the ocean.
“Elizabeth…Sleep now, Elizabeth.”
It was the last thing I heard before passing out.
THE END
Book 4: The Betrayal
Prologue
Elizabeth—Present Day
I couldn’t sleep.
I lay there in bed, listening to the rhythmic sounds of Steven’s snores, and wondered what I was doing wrong.
For so many years, I’d tried to act like I’d been okay.
But I didn’t think I would be able to keep up that pretense any longer.
“Steven?” I prodded Steven in the shoulder. “Are you awake?”
Steven grunted, then rolled back over.
I rolled onto my side, tucked a pillow over my face, pulling the covers up to my neck, and closed my eyes. Yeah, I thought. I’ll be able to sleep—just a little bit. That’s better than nothing.
The night was eerily quiet. It was cold for spring—almost too cold to be outdoors—but we had our bedroom window cracked open, chilled air filtering in and freezing my nose and fingertips.
My mind raced with thoughts. I’d always been like this—intense, as my mother to call it—but in the past week or so, everything had gotten worse. I could barely be alone with Steven without wanting to tear my hair out. Since the party, things had cooled between us. I wondered if I was just getting cold feet—maybe that was normal. After all, I had no idea what it was like to be married. None of my friends were married… not that I had many friends besides Steven and Karen nowadays.
Not to mention that I couldn’t stop thinking about David.
I lay there for probably two hours, tossing and turning and thrashing around. I hate to admit it because I know how bitchy it sounds, but part of me almost hoped that Steven would wake. Since the party, there had been a thick tension between us that I was loath to confront… but even I realized that at some point, soon, things would explode.
By the time the sky was streaked pink and orange with the coming of dawn, I knew that sleep would elude me for the rest of the night. I wistfully thought back to the months before, where I could just lie in bed all day, close my eyes, and pretend like I was falling asleep. But I hadn’t felt a calm like that in a very, very long time.
Sighing, I crawled out of bed, trying not to wake Steven. He made a murmuring sound, then flopped over and rolled into the space formerly occupied by my body. I frowned as I reached for my robe from the floor and wrapped it around my body. The fabric was cold, and I shivered, almost tempted to climb back into bed. Then Steven started to snore and I rolled my eyes, turning on my heel and padding out of our room.
The old wooden floor creaked under my feet as I crept down the hall. Passing Karen’s room, I heard the light sound of her snores. I walked down the hall and stopped at the end, kneeling in front of a closet and turning on the harsh, yellow light.
I groaned. This closet was filled with everything from my Mom’s house, everything I’d taken when I’d moved out after college. Grimy cardboard boxes were covered with a layer of dust as thick as my hand. Covering my mouth and nose with a flap of my robe, I coughed until pain spread through my chest and my eyes were damp.
“Christ,” I muttered under my breath as I reached into the closet and pulled the boxes out into the hall. Soon, I was surrounded by towers and stacks of cardboard. It was ridiculous—there seemed to be twice as many boxes as I remembered.
It took a long time for me to find the boxes with my high school stuff. As I rifled through old papers and things my mom had saved for God knows what reason, a powerful wave of nostalgia passed over me. It didn’t seem like very much time had passed—but digging through my memories, I realized that seven years was a surprisingly long time.
Finally, I found the box I was looking for. My heartbeat slowed to a dull thud in my chest and my stomach twisted nervously as I removed the lid and picked my way through the contents. I swallowed a newly formed lump in my throat as I dug through the books.
When my fingers brushed against the ancient leather cover, a shiver ran down my spine. As quickly as I could, I crawled to my feet and tucked the book under my arm. I walked into the laundry room and pulled on a pair of jeans under my robe, knotting my hair at the nape of my neck.
No matter how many times I tried to call the past to mind, it wouldn’t come. Whenever I tried to think about that time of my life, seven years ago, it was like my brain disappeared into a sea of mist. I could barely even make out the features of Monica’s face. Before she’d finally disappeared for good, we’d spent almost every day together.
Now it was like we’d barely known each other at all. I struggled with the most trivial information—her last name, the house where she’d lived with her weirdo hippie parents—anything that had once been as clear as day in my mind was now gone.
As I walked out into the chilly dawn air, I clutched the book in my hand. It was early in the spring, but I knew I could still p
robably find what I was looking for. The neighbor had an herb garden, and while I didn’t normally borrow from it, I figured he wouldn’t even notice.
Squatting down, I scooped up a few dying sprigs of lavender and sage, tucking them into the pocket of my robe. The ground had begun to thaw and my feet slipped messily over the wet surface until I very nearly lost my balance. But by the time I walked into the woods, I’d regained my balance.
Being out in the air was soothing—almost as much as hiding in bed, pretending to be asleep. And now that I was away from Steven, I felt infinitely less annoyed with him. Maybe it really is just cold feet, I thought, glancing down at the huge ring on my finger. Maybe everything is going to be fine. Still, a part of me didn’t feel like going back, not just yet.
The sight of new, green buds on the tree branches made me smile as I pushed my way through the dense mass of trees. Finally, after about fifteen minutes of walking, I stumbled into a small clearing. The last time I’d been here, it had been the middle of summer. The ground had been covered with a lush, emerald carpet of grass and the sun had been shining down through the trees.
But now, everything looked cold and dead. I dropped to my knees and pulled a lighter from my pocket, scooping together small twigs and dead leaves until I had a nice little blaze going. With my knife, I cut the herbs into bits and sprinkled them over the flames. Soon, the air was filled with a herbaceous, aromatic scent that somehow made me think of David.
My eyes watered with smoke but I forced myself to keep them open as I sat down, crossed my legs, and opened the thick book on my lap. Immediately, I found the page I sought. The drawing of Monica, looking blonde and serene, surrounded by her coven.
A chill ran down my spine. A sharp memory of being with David, looking for Monica, blasted into my head and I cried out. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a small knife that I’d borrowed from the kitchen. I gritted my teeth and sliced my palm open, squeezing the folds of the cut together with my other hand until blood dripped onto the fire.
Suddenly, everything went black and I felt myself slipping away from consciousness.
The Uprising (Moonlight Wolves Book 3) Page 38
