Hidden Salem

by Kay Hooper

  “Damn,” Grayson said, drawing out the oath. “I never heard of that before, not to build a shield.”

  Finn was nodding. “It’s called weaving among the families, and it’s a rare Talent. Very, very rare. Duncan had it, so he used it to help solidify his own position. And to prevent those young people with Talent from having the time to learn to properly control and use their Talents.”

  “You said almost all the elders agreed with Duncan,” Geneva said. “What about the others?”

  “At first, there were a few,” Finn said. “Now only one family doesn’t hand over their young to have a barrier placed around their Talents.”

  Nellie murmured, “The Deverells.”

  Finn nodded. “We prefer it to happen naturally. Some I believe you call latents never even realize they have a dormant Talent. Others grow up learning to contain and control as they should, their shields becoming stronger with time and practice. For most, adolescence is the most turbulent time, but those of us who’ve gotten through it help the others as much as we can. Still, several of us can point to at least one family member with the Talent who came fully into their abilities much younger, before adolescence. My own nephew Robert is in college, and both his Talent and his shield are quite powerful.”

  “Robert Deverell,” Grayson muttered. “Huh.”

  “Yes, he was one of the two young men you encountered when you were coming down off the Trail,” Finn said.

  “He has a damned good shield all right. I didn’t even sense he was another psychic.”

  “Which is one reason he’s one of my best spies, my eyes and ears among the younger members of the other families and those following Duncan. He came to me when he wasn’t yet into his teens and asked me how to learn to control his Talent. His father doesn’t have it, nor his mother, so I was the logical one for him to turn to.”

  “But if they know,” Geneva began, then corrected herself mid-sentence. “His followers believe what he tells them.”

  “Exactly what he tells them.”

  “And,” Grayson said, “since he can do uncanny things like order the crows to spy for him, and report back to him, it just adds more to his mystique.”

  “Yes.” Finn paused, then added deliberately, “The one Talent that has held true for hundreds of years is that only a Cavendish born can command the crows.”

  “I told you I can’t do that,” Nellie said a little tightly.

  “You haven’t tried. But there’s a reason they’ve been around you all your life. A reason those here in Salem are drawn to you, even those held under thrall to Duncan.”

  “He’s got them spying on me; that’s all.” She frowned a little, as if hearing the thought only as she spoke it. Then she met his gaze. “He has, hasn’t he? Got them spying on me. Watching me.”

  “I doubt it was from childhood. Those that gathered around you then were simply drawn to you, because they knew, they felt an affinity with you. With Thomas gone from Salem, Duncan really didn’t expect any trouble from you. Not from you as a child. I think he still considered Thomas a threat, and that some years later he sent his crows to eliminate that threat.”

  “How could he have done that?” Nellie demanded. “My father was in Raleigh when he was killed, returning to Charlotte from a business trip.”

  “I don’t know how he did it,” Finn told her. “I’ve never been able to even sense the crows. But he could and can. They obey him. I don’t know what order he gave them, but I’m utterly certain they did something to cause that so-called accident. Remember all the crow feathers around the car?”

  “Still creepy,” Geneva muttered.

  “Very,” Finn agreed. “And potentially deadly. Still, Thomas was out of the way. But as the years passed, Duncan began to actually believe the notion that none with the Talent could come fully into their abilities until he, personally, helped them to break through the barriers he had built in their minds to keep their abilities dormant for most of their lives. In the week before their thirtieth birthday. One result of that, Nellie, is that the crows have been watching you more closely in recent years. And more of them. Right?”

  She nodded silently.

  “Most of those were probably his. He knew Thomas would never have placed a barrier in your mind even if he could have, and I’m sure he was curious to find out when you’d begin using your abilities.”

  “I tried not to,” she said.

  Geneva said, “We all try not to when we’re too young. It just makes other people nervous.”

  Nellie glanced at her, then nodded.

  Finn said, “I don’t know if he had a plan to draw you to Salem if you didn’t come yourself. He seems to have drawn the others somehow, though I don’t know what means he used. I knew about your father’s letter, and I knew when it was to be delivered. On your twenty-ninth birthday. But months passed, and I thought you had decided to ignore the letter.”

  “But you weren’t surprised when I showed up,” Nellie said.

  “Well, in December I had told Bishop as much of the story as I knew, including about your father and his letter to you. He said you’d come, though likely at the last possible minute.”

  Nellie stared at him for a moment, then turned her gaze to the two agents. “I’m beginning to understand what you mean about Bishop,” she said.

  “Yeah, he’s maddening,” Geneva said, not without sympathy. “And right, too damned often.”

  Finn said, “He called me this morning, a while before I went out to meet you at the park, Nellie. Told me how the first four victims were connected to Salem. Ancestry, through female lines.”

  “So is that why Duncan wanted them here?” Grayson demanded. “They’re descendants of women from the original families of Salem, and because of that they had to come here and die?”

  With a slight shake of his head, Finn said, “I couldn’t actually think of a rationale behind that. Until Bishop told me that dark energy can be . . . produced and gained by the commission of evil acts.”

  “Power,” Geneva said slowly. “Duncan wanted more power. And that’s how he decided to get it? By killing descendants of the original five families, family that wouldn’t be missed because they’d never lived in Salem?”

  “Blood from the bloodlines of the original Five,” Nellie murmured. “Shed in torture and torment. And sacrifice.”

  “I never said he was sane,” Finn returned.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Robert Deverell could act the lighthearted college student with the best of them, but he’d been born with an ability that set him apart from most other young men, and he was always aware of that fact. Here in Salem it was something normal, if not shared equally with everyone, but there were things about Salem that were not normal, and it was with those he was concerned now.

  Especially after talking to Finn.

  So Robert acted much as he usually did on that Saturday afternoon, out and about even after it began to snow, just as most of his friends were. He spoke to as many people as he could, and did his best to be casual. But each time he was with someone he knew didn’t have the Talent, he opened a tiny window in his shield, a narrow beam of focus, just as Finn had taught him, and tried to sense what feelings he could.

  Most of what he got was normal and unthreatening, a few things he really wished he didn’t now know about, a few things that were revelations about people he’d thought he knew.

  And then there was the dark stuff.

  The really, really dark stuff.

  When he began sensing that, he shored up his inner wall as much as he could to protect himself, but opened that tiny window a bit more and gathered in every dark, sickening bit of information he could glean from those seething emotions.

  Once he was no longer forced to look at those smiling faces, he took a few minutes to regain all his control, then headed for Finn’s office, keeping his own exp
ression calm but walking quickly in the lightly falling snow.

  It was nearly four, and the snow had tapered to flurries again when he reached the Chronicle building and let himself in. He went straight upstairs to Finn’s office, not surprised to find it closed because Finn had told him about the people he wanted to talk to today.

  He also didn’t hesitate to knock, and walked in without waiting for an invitation.

  “Anything?” Finn asked immediately. He was half sitting on his desk, talking to the two agents on the couch and Nellie Cavendish in one of the visitor’s chairs, her dog sitting quietly at her feet.

  “Yeah,” Robert replied. “Oh, yeah.”

  “Good. Sit down and tell us what you’ve learned.” Finn added quick introductions as Robert took the other visitor’s chair, and he nodded politely to the agents and to Nellie Cavendish. She was pretty, he thought abstractedly, and wondered what Finn thought of her. Not that he’d ever know unless shown or told; his uncle was one of the very few people whose emotions Robert could never sense.

  “Nice to see you again,” Gray Sheridan said somewhat dryly.

  Robert offered him a faint grin, then sobered and looked at his uncle. “If what I got was accurate, there is some really dark shit scheduled to go down tonight.”

  “Tonight?” That was Agent Raynor, sitting up straighter as she stared at him alertly.

  “Yeah. And not what I was expecting at all. Finn, did you know they’d grabbed a little girl?”

  “Not until Nellie and the agents told me,” Finn answered. “That’s what you were picking up?”

  Robert had gathered everything together in his head on the walk here so that it made more sense than the initial jumble of sickening emotions, and was able to explain rapidly.

  “What we thought was right. Duncan believes he’s stronger now because of those people he killed—he and his followers—in some weird-ass ceremony that he said was intended to draw the evil demon out of those ‘Children of Salem.’ Except the real demon is Duncan, because he tortured those poor people, Finn. Claiming to be the ‘Chosen,’ with one duty, to purge evil from anyone from the blood of the original families. And purging that supposed evil calls for real blood, from them, and a lot of it. All of it, in fact.”

  “Sacrifice,” Finn said grimly.

  “Yeah, eventually. But I wasn’t kidding when I said torture was first on the list. From what I was picking up, the whole horror show starts at seven o’clock tonight—moonrise—and goes on until nearly dawn.” His mouth twisted sickly. “After they finish their sacrifice off, they have other kinds of perverted fun. Jesus Christ, Finn, how has this insanity been going on for weeks and we didn’t know?”

  “Never mind that now. We’ll deal with guilt later. Are they planning to kill that little girl? Bethany Hicks?”

  “I didn’t get a name, but, yeah, they are. They’ve held her someplace for the last few days, I think, and left her alone. A kid left alone like that must be scared half out of her mind, to say nothing of weak and hungry. As for his followers, Duncan’s fed them some line of bullshit about evil wearing an innocent face, and how they have to deal with that before they turn to the true evil newly come to Salem.” He looked at Nellie. “His own niece.”

  Her expression didn’t change, but some of the color left her face. And he didn’t blame her a bit for that.

  “Where?” Finn rapped out. “Did you get where it’s supposed to happen?”

  “Yeah. I know exactly where it’s supposed to happen.”

  * * *

  —

  IT WAS GENEVA who slipped back into the B and B by her secret way and retrieved her and Grayson’s weapons.

  He walked in the front door, brushing snow from his thick jacket and muttering to himself about how lunch had been a bad idea and he thought he’d take his meds and sleep until he woke up.

  He made sure Ms. Payton was near enough to hear.

  Then he went to his room, used his laptop to connect to Bishop, reported what was happening and what they expected to happen tonight, requested backup, but also asked that it arrive in Salem no earlier than eight p.m., and also that Bishop do whatever he could to ensure the legalities.

  Calm as always, Bishop merely returned that he would do everything possible, and for them to watch their backs.

  After that, Grayson hung out his DO NOT DISTURB sign, dimmed the lights in his room, and left to meet Geneva, finally learning her secret way in and out of Hales.

  “You’re a devious woman,” he said as they stood out behind the B and B, just inside the shelter of the woods, and checked their weapons.

  “That’s not even conversation,” Geneva told him. “But at least we know where to look, with Robert’s info added to those pictures you took of the ruins somewhere up this mountain.”

  “I’m glad Finn recognized it,” Grayson said, admitting, “With the cloud cover this heavy and snow falling, I’m not at all sure I could have found my way back there tonight.”

  Geneva, graciously, decided not to point out a failing.

  As they waited for the others to join them, Grayson said abruptly, “Listen, you spent more time with Nellie than I did. Is she up for this?”

  “She’ll have to be, won’t she?”

  “I know we decided it’d be just us because of the time factor and the terrain—and because of what we believe is the only way to stop Cavendish. My question is, will Nellie hesitate to do what the rest of us believe she’ll have to do? There’s a kid involved, Red, to say nothing of who might get in our way.”

  After a moment, Geneva said calmly, “Bethany will be the key as far as Nellie is concerned. She will not let anything happen to that little girl if it’s even possible for her to stop it. She’ll tap every resource she knows about and—I’m guessing—quite a few she isn’t consciously aware of.”

  Grayson checked his gun for the third time. “Well,” he muttered. “This ought to be fun.”

  * * *

  —

  AS SHE FOLLOWED the others up the lightly snow-dusted mountain trail that would lead them to what Finn had described as the first church ever built in Salem, now only a ruin, Nellie tried not to think of what lay ahead, but found a moment to be grateful that Robert, though protesting his uncle’s order at first, had stayed behind—and that he would be watching over Leo for her.

  She was also glad that Robert was another empath, who had, seemingly in an instant, established a kind of connection with Leo that had allowed the dog to relax and not object to her leaving with the others.

  Finn really hadn’t had to point out to her that Duncan wouldn’t scruple at killing a dog, and that at least some of the Cavendish loyalist militia members, those among his followers, were likely to be armed.

  Grayson hadn’t been happy at that reminder, and both he and Geneva had detoured by the B and B to claim their own weapons before meeting Nellie and Finn at a predetermined spot in the woods to the northwest of Hales.

  Finn was also armed, clearly comfortable and familiar with his handgun. Nellie had decided not to bring her own gun, though she wasn’t sure just why. Maybe because she wasn’t sure she could shoot an actual person, even her clearly evil uncle. Or maybe . . . because a faint voice in her mind told her that was one weapon she wouldn’t need.

  It was still early, not much past winter-dark, and not really completely dark despite the gloomy sky, thanks to the dusting of snow and the peculiar light that sometimes showed itself in Salem. They were early because they wanted to get to the ruins well ahead of Duncan and his followers, and find the best spots to settle in. None of them wanted to take any chances with the life of Bethany Hicks.

  “Listen to me,” Finn had said to her while they waited for the other two. “I know you’ve spent your life trying to ignore some of your Talents and control others. I get that. I know this is all happening so fast you’re telling yoursel
f you haven’t even had time to think, to make decisions you believe you have to make. I get that too.

  “But, Nellie, you know as well as I do that you face whatever life throws at you the best you can in that moment. That’s what matters, all that matters. How you face the hard things.”

  “Hard? Jesus, Finn . . .”

  “This is not something any of us can soften or sweeten for you. Your uncle is evil, quite probably insane, definitely a serial killer, even if he dressed up murder to look like something else. The bald truth is that a little girl’s life may well hang on your Talents, on your abilities to use what you were born to use. You can’t hold back. Can’t let yourself close off even a part of your mind or your emotions.”

  “Finn—”

  “He’ll send the crows ahead to scout. You have to be the one to command them, Nellie. You have to. Surprise is one of the few things we have going for us. After that, it’s our guns and your abilities. Because Duncan will damned sure use his.” He had glanced up as thunder rumbled distantly, and added, “And if it’s necessary, let yourself call down a storm. It’s one defense he can never match, never counter, and it could save your life and Bethany’s—and ours.”

  But no pressure, Nellie thought more than a little wildly as she followed Finn and Grayson, with Geneva behind her, through a forest that was very still and very quiet, with hardly any snow dusting the ground. Then a rumble of thunder sounded, not so distantly now, and Nellie wasn’t surprised.

  Call down a storm. As if it could ever be that simple!

  But she could feel her own fear and anxiety clawing at her, trying to escape the weaving of energy threads she had built to contain what was dangerous. She put out one hand to grasp a sapling and help herself up the path, and could feel the bark through her thin gloves.

  The gloves.

  It seemed to take forever, but was probably no more than half an hour or so of climbing in order to reach the ruins of a tiny church built hundreds of years before. Finn had said a wide mountain stream had once tumbled down this slope and had cut off the church from the town. After that, it had been swallowed up by the forest as the town itself shifted somewhat to the southwest to at least attempt to avoid the flash floods and mudslides that had early endangered the people of Salem.