by Mark Hockley
her look that way. He instinctively moved closer to her and took hold of her hand. "He was a good man," he offered tentatively, "and he did love you."
Her eyes were bright with emotion, but she kept a level gaze. "But he could never tell me that." It was a simple statement of fact. There was no place for such sentiments in Witch Town. No love encouraged between father and daughter. Zack understood that there was unspoken pain lurking beneath the doctrines of this community.
The boy carried Jeremiah's body to the storeroom and placed him carefully on a table. He did not linger to witness the woman begin their work to prepare the man for the grave. He could not bear to. With a brief nod at Leonie he left, knowing that it was a time for her to show this final respect to the man who had given her life. This realisation only made Zack feel all the more troubled and distraught. Was that woman actually human to have done such a thing?
He walked with little purpose through the night shadows of the town, a pale moon giving the buildings and fields a melancholy aspect that seemed to suit his mood perfectly. He saw no point in returning to his room. How could he ever hope to sleep after this? Perhaps he could go to the house Luke shared with his sister and see if his friend was awake. It might help to talk things through. Even though he was forbidden to visit Ellie's home, he really didn't care at that moment. In fact he almost wanted them to try to punish him, wanting to rebel against their tyranny. And surely Luke could not have slept through all of the night's disturbances.
Zack picked up his pace, heading off along a gravel path. The company of a friend, someone who was not one of them was what he needed now.
He turned a corner, intending to cross the town square where the witches displayed their gibbet with the hangman's noose, almost as if it was some kind of totem. But before he had taken even a dozen steps he came to a standstill.
The boy gazed ahead, his eyes drawn upward. What he saw left him sickened and disbelieving.
Where there had been one noose before, now there were many. Temporary structures had been assembled to stand beside the permanent gibbet in the square. And hung from each a figure swayed in the gloom. Like black cut-outs in the shape of men, illuminated by moonlight, Zack saw that there was at least a dozen.
Even though he could not see the faces of the men who had been executed, he knew that many of them would be the same he had encountered in that secret meeting he had shared with Jeremiah. The memory stirred dark feelings, the reality of what had occurred biting deep into his mind.
Jeremiah was just one more casualty and the witches had taken their retribution. Now they paraded those who had dared to challenge their authority for all to see as an example of Witch Town justice.
Zack bowed his head. The time for tears was past. And he vowed to himself that he would remember this scene. Remember it and use it to fuel his determination to fight back.
For those who would bear witness to this horrific spectacle in the light of tomorrow it would be a sobering sight. But for the boy seeing this now, while the night still held sway, alone as he was, it felt very personal. As if it was meant solely for him.
So Zack allowed himself to really look and draw upon its horror. It may be true that not all of the woman in this town were so cruel as those who had done this thing, but the boy knew that many of their ranks would never question the necessity of these actions. It was those witches who were his enemies. Not Leonie, or others like her, but woman like Abigail, murderous tyrants who must be opposed.
Jeremiah had tried. And lost his life in the process. Zack realised that the same outcome could easily await himself.
He turned aside from the perverse image before him and began to move away. Never forget, he told himself, a grim mantra. Never forget.
31
If Margaret wanted me to prove myself, I will show her that I'm stronger than even she suspects. So if this is a test like I think it must be, I intend to pass with flying colours. Which is not to say I've forgotten about finding help and getting Zack and the others out of Witch Town. All I'm saying is that I won't let these women think they are better than me, when the truth is they aren't. The more I use my SpiritHeart the more powerful I feel. And the stronger I get, the easier it is for me to show these witches who they're really dealing with.
"Who are you?" Ellie wanted to know, suppressing any sign of fear in her voice. Her faceless persecutor loomed very large before her but she would not be intimidated.
"Think of me as a collector of rare objects. I commend you for having come so far. Few others have managed it." The woman's strangely distorted voice set the girl on edge, the sound unearthly.
"What others!? Ellie questioned, keeping her tone steady.
She drew a little nearer to the glass cabinet, attempting to look inside and check its contents.
"Did you think you were the first? I would consider that to be naive. The amulet is a great prize is it not?"
Ellie felt irritation growing within her now. "Why?"
This was something that had been playing on her mind since Margaret had first told her the reason for this little field trip. What use was Rebecca's SpiritHeart anyway? Could someone else wear it if they retrieved it and to what purpose? It wasn't as if it would possess any special power. That came from the wearer, not the amulet itself.
This was greeted by silence. When the woman spoke again, her tone had changed, but she ignored the question. "I have seen everything that has occurred in my home tonight. It seems to me that you would not even be here if it were not for your companions."
Now the girl was really annoyed. "If you've really been watching, then you know I am stronger than they are. One of them would be dead now if it wasn't for me. I could have got this far on my own. So if you have any more traps up your sleeve, give it your best shot!" Ellie stood tensed for whatever might be thrown at her, but for the moment at least, nothing happened.
"Over confidence is a dangerous thing, you know. As is arrogance. And yet..." There was a lengthy pause. Ellie had approached close enough now to the cabinet to see within and saw that at its centre, set on a delicate cushion of red velvet, was indeed a pendant very much like the one she wore. The stone that hung from it was obviously cut from the same kind of translucent rock. Could this really have belonged to Rebecca? "Go ahead, why not open the cabinet. That's what you came for, is it not?" Ellie was baffled now. This really had to be a trick. She touched the glass lightly, as if expecting to sense something, but it was merely cool against her finger tips. There was a catch at the front of the cabinet and she lifted it gently, the lid rising so that Ellie could stare down at the amulet only a few inches away. "Take it," came the voice softly.
There it was, the first SpiritHeart. But Ellie was reluctant to reach down and pick it up. Something just wasn't right about this and she knew it.
She hesitated. "You seem eager for me to touch it," she observed, her eyes darting to the image on the far wall.
There was a low, distorted chuckle. "You are wise to be wary. But truly no harm will come to you."
Impulsively, Ellie snatched it up, surprising herself. But she had grown tired of games and there was an inner confidence in her now that made her feel strong, strong enough to face whatever this woman might have in mind.
She held the amulet between her fingers.
But it didn't feel right. The chain were too light, too insubstantial. She let her thumb move over the surface of the stone itself. The texture was wrong. "What is this?" she said, almost to herself.
"Work it out," came the disembodied voice.
"What?" the girl spoke in confusion, turning the SpiritHeart in her fingers. The chain didn't even feel like real metal.
"Fake." It was a single word and Ellie found herself bewildered by the truth of it. She looked from the amulet to the indistinct face observing her.
"What is going on here!?" Ellie was torn between exasperation and trepidation. She was at a loss to explain what any of this meant.
Another long silence, the fe
atureless visage shimmering very faintly. Then an electronic buzz caught Ellie's attention and she feared the advent of another murderous device coming into play. But as she scanned the room with alert eyes, she was surprised to see a small doorway appear in a side wall, a panel sliding open with an audible hiss.
"Please," the image spoke to her, "join me. I would like to talk to you in person."
Luke had watched from his small window as the witches had led the men to their deaths like obedient lambs to the slaughterhouse. Except, their place of execution had been the town square. The boy understood that they had been under the women's influence; whatever Words they may have used was irrelevant. The men had not stood a chance.
He still watched through the glass as small fires burned and smoke drifted hazily through the air. Luke was a little worried that Zack might have been mixed up in it somehow, but he wasn't about to go out there and risk being rounded up alongside those other unfortunates. No, he would stay up here where it was safe. He was confident his friend wouldn't have been stupid enough to go along with what was after all, a complete waste of time.
Luke was no fool. He saw these witches for what they really were. Control freaks who didn't care who got hurt just as long as they held on to their precious power and control.
It disgusted him, just as his would-be wife disgusted him, for
