by Susan Conley
“But not both,” she finished. “Unless … ”
“What?” Jack demanded.
“Unless … ” Abby hesitated, knowing how crazy what she was about to say would sound.
“Go on.”
Regardless of the absurdity, she just looked him in the eye and said it. “Unless they truly are memories and not dreams.”
“Like the journal,” he agreed.
“Yes, exactly like that. Only not in writing.”
He said nothing.
“Look,” she began, running a frustrated hand through her hair, “all my life I have felt like there was a piece of the puzzle missing. For whatever reason, coming to Salem for the amulet fit. You fit. Hell, Maxine even fits.”
“And Bridget?”
The air between them took on a frosty haze. “After tonight, I think she fits most of all.” Once the words were spoken, the pall dissipated into thin air.
Jack pulled Abby close. “You realize that we have to go to that Halloween Ball and get the amulet.” He leaned back and looked into her eyes. “We don’t have a choice.”
“Yes, I know.” And somehow she did. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she said as much to herself as to Jack, “God help us.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Abby had agreed with Jack’s decision that they must attend the Halloween Ball … this morning … in the sunlight.
But, tonight? Hours after sunset on All Hallows Eve? Dreams or no dreams, she wanted desperately to skip the ball and hole up in Jack’s house. Unfortunately she knew they had no choice in the matter. Both she and Jack were remembering, for lack of a better word, bit and pieces of a grotesque puzzle. Tonight was the one and only window of opportunity they would have to stop Bridget. And not just for their sake. For the sake of all who would ever know her wrath.
They must retrieve the amulet. That much they knew. She prayed to God whatever else they needed to defeat her would be revealed.
When the antique clock on Jack’s dresser chimed seven-thirty, Abby’s jumped. Her nerves stretched even thinner, if that were possible. So much had happened in such a short time. The parts she seemed to understand made no sense, and the pieces she couldn’t figure out defied logic.
Reality insisted the bald man was still out there. Somewhere. Waiting? Watching? Biding his time? And tonight she and Jack were deliberately planning to leave the house and meet the person who stole her amulet. She glanced anxiously toward the bedroom window. Something powerful and commanding told her to cast a circle. She did so, lighting two gold candles. One for her and one for Jack.
“Protect us tonight at the Halloween Ball. Free us from danger and lift the pall. Neither Bridget Bishop nor the bald man let in. Ostracize them and their ways of sin. This is my will, so mote it be.”
Satisfied, she buried her fears and started for the living room. When she reached the rail at the top of the stairs, Abby froze.
As if sensing her presence, Jack looked up.
He took her breath away. His tall muscular body was clothed all in black. Leather boots encased his legs up to his knees. His face was hidden by a phantom’s mask, and his aura was as dark as the cape hanging wildly about his broad shoulders. Jack Hawthorne was the man from her nightmare.
He watched Abby slowly descend the staircase. His gaze wandered from the tip of her pointed hat to the fascinating green eyes that sparkled behind her sultry satin mask. The neckline of her sleek, raven-colored dress was cut to the waist and barely laced up the front. But it was the delicate silver, satin ribbons that crisscrossed the creamy vee of skin exposed from the middle of her breasts to her belt that seduced a devilish smile from his lips. Her tattered hem dipped gracefully with each step and waves of auburn hair swayed halfway down her back as she approached him.
In an attempt to postpone the inevitable task at hand, Jack tried to lighten the mood for Abby. With one elaborate gesture, he bowed ceremoniously. “Madame, you are truly bewitching.”
“Thank you,” Abby said quietly, still in awe. “And you, Sir, are most definitely the man of my dreams.” Whatever else happened tonight, she wanted this moment.
Jack pushed his mask on top of his head. He picked up the ends of the shimmery ribbons and rubbed the satiny strings between his fingers. “How long do you suppose it would take to undo that tiny silver bow and unlace this?”
“Remind me to time you later.” Her teasing turned serious.
“Oh, there will be a later.” Praying he could keep that promise, he draped Abby’s cape around her shoulders, and they headed for the car.
The evening was cool and crisp with just a hint of chimney smoke in the air. “It’s a wonderful night for Halloween,” Abby said.
He pulled her closer as they walked. “Absolutely perfect.”
The drive to the ball brought back familiar childhood memories for Abby. To distract herself, she concentrated on the scenery. Jack-O-Lanterns glowed in the dark and guarded nearly every porch against the ghosts and goblins that slipped in and out of the shadows. Screams and giggles echoed throughout the neighborhoods.
“I’d almost forgotten how much fun trick-or-treating was,” she sighed.
“Not to worry,” Jack assured her. “I have the adult version of the game at home.”
Under the circumstances, his attempt at humor helped. “I’ll just bet you do.” Abby shook her head, content to ride the rest of the way in silence.
Jack parked the car and Abby’s eyes followed the long, winding driveway to the front door of a huge mansion perched at the top of a steep knoll.
“Gallows Hill?” Abby repeated, as they reached a slatted wooden sign that creaked from a nearby gate. Her fingers absently traced the smooth skin of her neck, just above the collarbone.
“Yeah,” Jack nodded, sliding his mask into place. “It was named after — ”
An owl hooted somewhere overhead. A loud, haunting screech. Abby jumped and yanked her cape tighter against the crisp October breeze. “Let’s go.”
Surrounded by an ancient iron fence, the stone structure looked as though it had forced its way out of the earth. The last desolate vines of summer clung hopelessly to its face and jagged towers and peaked turrets appeared to pierce the full moon at its back. Dead trees dotted the mansion’s grounds, leaving only barren limbs to hold the outside world at arm’s length … until tonight.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Skyclad beneath the full moon, Bridget anointed each chakra point — the crown of her head, her third eye, her throat, over her heart, her solar plexus, just above her navel, and the base of her spine — with frankincense oil. Athame in her right hand, she began casting the circle. Walking the candlelit circumference, she sprinkled salt around the edge until she had come full circle.
“I cast you as my sacred boundary. You will keep me safe as you divide the Earthly world from the realm of never-ending planes. Blessed and bound so mote this circle be.
Athame held high, she called forth the Guardians of the four quarters. As each was addressed, she traced the invoking pentagram.
She turned to face south.
“Enter this circle, Guardians of the South, home of Fire and Salamander. Guard my circle and assist my rite.”
Turning west, she commanded, “Home of water and Undine, Guardian of the West appear. Guard my circle and assist my rite.”
Facing north, she called, “Enter my circle North Guardians of Earth and Gnome. “Guard my circle and assist my rite.”
She faced east. “Home of air and sylph enter my circle,” she decreed. “Guard my circle and assist my rite.”
She inscribed a black candle and dabbed a spot of patchouli oil on the first finger of her right hand and anointed the wax with it. Her enemy’s name was written on parchment and placed under the candle.
“By the power of fire, b
y the power of earth, by the power of air, by the power of water, by the life in the blood. Abigail Corey take they leave. On this blessed All Hallows’ Eve, send her back lest she deceive. As I speak, so mote it be.”
• • •
Hairs prickled at the nape of Abby’s neck, stopping her dead in her tracks. She yanked Jack’s arm, pulling him down to whisper, “What was that?”
Respecting, if nothing else, the degree to which her nails were digging into his bicep, he stopped, then shrugged. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Shhh,” she insisted.
Trusting Abby’s instincts, he listened … their eyes met.
“You sense it, don’t you?”
Jack scanned the perimeter but found no one in sight. He cocked his head to listen. “What the hell is that?”
Abby turned to face the darkness. Was someone out there? A shiver skittered through her soul. She had heard someone. Abby concentrated on the vague voice playing in her head. What were they saying? Sent back? Must return? Phrases she couldn’t quite make out, but knew to be haunting, if not dangerous. Something besides Halloween was in the air tonight. There was no mistake about that.
“I don’t know.” She held his dark gaze. “We’d better get inside.” Her hand automatically searched her neck for the amulet that wasn’t there. That and that alone, gave her the courage to take the last few steps. But as the huge door creaked open, Abby stood, unable to cross the threshold.
When Abby hesitated, Jack entered the mansion first.
She took the hand he offered and reluctantly followed him inside. In the moment it took for her eyes to adjust to the dim gaslights mounted on the foyer walls, Abby heard the soft sound of tinkling bells that echoed through the air. The eerie melody prickled the hair at the base of her neck.
“Shall we?” Jack linked his fingers through hers.
Somewhat comforted by his familiar touch, Abby took a deep breath and nodded.
Jack yanked the heavy ballroom door until it scraped open and the spirit of Halloween materialized before their eyes. Creatures of the night milled around the dark, cavernous room. The mystic sound of exotic chimes haunted the air. Candlelight flickered from mindless skulls. Cobwebs cocooned every corner and doorway. Dust authenticated each tabletop and sheets covered all the furniture. Slashed and carved into horror-frozen faces, dozens of pumpkins illuminated the darkness at every turn.
When a huge man rushed forward, Abby instinctively stepped behind Jack. Bare chested, the stranger was covered with green body paint and clothed only in tattered cutoffs. It wasn’t until he flashed a sexy smile and enthusiastically pumped Jack’s hand that Abby relaxed.
Jack pried Abby’s fingers from the back of his arm and clapped his hand on the big man’s shoulder. “Venucci.” Flipping up his mask, Jack turned to his friend. “You remember Abby.”
Abby felt her hand sandwiched between the detective’s large palms.
“Great costume,” Lucky said.
“Yours, too.” Abby cut to the chase. “So what’s our plan?”
“My strategy is,” Lucky leaned closer, “to party ’til we drop,” he joked with a straight face. Lucky glanced at Jack then cleared his throat. “All kidding aside, I’m here as your personal bodyguard, Miss Corey.”
“Abby,” she corrected.
“All right, Abby. Just know that I’ll monitor your every move and, trust me, you’ll be safe.”
Abby studied his face and realized she’d only seen that granite-hard look in the eyes of one other man — Jack Hawthorne. Seeing them side-by-side, Jack a bit taller, Lucky a tad bulkier, she breathed a little easier. “Thanks, Lucky. Sorry if I seemed a bit abrupt, but I’ve never had anyone try to kill me before.”
“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “Just pretend I’m not here and keep your eyes peeled for the clown with the necklace — no pun intended.”
“Let’s do it.” Jack grabbed her by the hand and headed through the crowd to the buffet.
He ducked the white sheets that had been suspended and shaped as though they were in full flight and ignored the gleaming crimson eyes of the gargoyles that perched around the ceiling and guarded the table. Looking over the assorted delicacies, he asked, “Care for some grape eyeballs?”
Abby’s already jittery stomach rolled. “No thanks.”
“A rat burger? Spider pretzels? Entrails on a stick?”
Abby shook her head as he rattled off the disgusting menu. “Clever, but I think I’ll pass.”
“Well, if you’re not hungry, how about a drink?”
“That,” she sighed, “sounds great.”
He pointed to the punch bowls filled to the brim with tomato juice. Jack read the sign, “Type A or O Positive?”
Once again he’d managed to ease her nervousness and in return Abby gave him a grateful smile. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what’s the difference?”
“O Positive is for the designated drivers and Type A is for the party animals. Under the circumstances, I’m sticking with O tonight, but what’s your pleasure?”
“I’ll have the big ‘O’,” she teased out of nervous frustration.
“Later,” Jack promised and kissed her cheek.
Virgin Mary’s in hand, they made their way through the crowd once more and sat down at a table for two. Even with Jack at her side and Lucky nearby, Abby remained tense. When would all this madness end? About mid-thought, someone banged into her from behind so hard it knocked her witch’s hat sideways.
Abby saw Jack’s eyes blaze as his long arm snaked toward her, then past the side of her head. When he jumped to his feet, their table tipped and his drink overturned. A blood-red stain seeped across the crisp white cloth toward her. She watched as Jack shoved a clown up against the wall, the man’s feet dangled in the air.
“Ease up, Jack,” Lucky yelled, grabbing his friend by the shoulder. “He tripped.”
Breathing hard, Jack looked around. “Tripped?”
“I saw the whole thing,” Lucky assured him.
Jack suddenly recognized Leon Wazinski, a timid, little man from the law firm Platt, Sellars, and Wazinski, and he released his grip. “Sorry, Leon,” Jack assured the stunned man. “I thought you were someone else,” he explained while smoothing the man’s ridiculously ruffled clown collar.
“Glad I wasn’t,” Leon wheezed.
“The show’s over,” Lucky assured the small gathering of onlookers. “Party on.”
Abby took off her witch’s hat and placed it deliberately on the table. “Now I know why you hired Lucky,” she explained dryly. At his blank look, she continued, “To protect the innocent bystanders.”
Jack shrugged and sat down. “Hey, the guy was a clown for Christ’s sake,” he snorted. “How was I supposed to know he tripped?”
“He caught his over-sized clown shoe on the leg of my chair,” she explained.
Jack planted both elbows on the table and clasped his hands together. “Don’t you get it? This is your life we’re talking about.” He steadied his whisper. “I won’t take even one chance.”
Abby swallowed hard.
When Jack’s cell phone rang, he headed for the door. “Can’t hear. I’ll be right back.”
Lucky sat down and gave Abby’s hand a sympathetic pat. “Don’t worry, he’ll settle down.”
Abby watched Jack disappear into the crowd. “He’s really keyed up.”
“Love will do that to a guy.”
“Really?” She arched one brow.
He leaned back in his chair. “So I’ve heard.”
“You know Jack pretty well.” It wasn’t a question.
Lucky perused the room, never meeting Abby’s gaze. “He saved my career — big time.”
Abby took a deep breath. “Hawthorne’s quite a guy.”
> “I can tell you one thing.” He shifted in his chair and leaned toward her. “I’ve never loved any woman enough to camp out all night in a hotel hallway because she might be in trouble.”
There was that ‘L’ word again. Abby smiled. “Thanks.”
Jack burst through the tangle of people on the dance floor, pulled a stray chair up and straddled it. “Wrong number.”
Remembering her prank call at the hotel, she opened her mouth to speak then shut it. “Maybe we should mingle.”
“Go ahead,” Lucky instructed. “I’ll stay close.
Leaving their table, Jack and Abby wound their way through the partying throng. Amidst the Draculas and Frankensteins, they ran into Bozos and Emmett Kellys at every turn. “There can’t be a clown costume left in Boston,” Abby pointed out in frustration. “But not one has approached us.”
An hour later, Jack squeezed Abby’s hand and inclined his head Lucky’s way. They wound their way into a far corner of the room. “What do you think, Venucci. The note said eight.”
Lucky checked his watch and shrugged. “It’s your call. I know you want your necklace back, but there should have been contact by now. It’s after nine.”
Abby and Jack exchanged glances. Lucky certainly didn’t know the real reason they were desperate to get back the amulet. Hell, even they were hard pressed to believe it much less expect someone else to.
“Let’s call it,” Jack decided.
Abby nodded. They must have missed something. This place was too noisy to think, so they needed to find somewhere quiet and talk things out.
“Looks like you won’t need me anymore.” Lucky clapped his large palm on Jack’s back and started to stand.
“Not so fast.” Jack grabbed Lucky by the arm. “Since it’s now officially party time, you might be interested to know a certain lady cornered me on my way back from trying to answer my phone. She asked to meet you.”
“I don’t think so,” Lucky hedged.
“Who knows, maybe this is the one you could sit in a hallway for,” Abby coaxed.
