Bane

by Trish Milburn

  I’ve read coven histories, of course, but recent experience with my family has shown that not everything Egan and I were told while growing up is the truth. So I take Fiona’s advice and start reading. It takes me several minutes to get used to the script, but then I delve into a past that shaped me centuries before I was born.

  The old pages reveal that the dissenters, the families that refused to form dark covens, tried to convince the coven families that tapping into something they didn’t understand was too dangerous. That they should just maintain their innocence of any wrongdoing and wait until the hysteria subsided.

  Fools. Something inside me spits the word. History had proven that swearing one’s innocence of witchcraft did no good whatsoever. I hate to admit it, but part of me understands why the witches decided to take matters into their own hands. You can only get beaten down for so long before you are compelled to fight back.

  As I flip pages and read, I feel as if I’m taking a trip back in time, experiencing those frightening days as if I’d been there. Once the witches figured out how to take the dark power into themselves safely, they faced an unforeseen consequence. Suddenly, Salem was much too small to contain so many witches with that much power. Fights broke out, some deadly, over territory and who should be in charge. I shake my head and think about how they sound like modern-day gangs.

  Someone named Nathaniel Hillman recognized that they’d end up tearing each other apart if they didn’t spread out. That was the beginning of assigning territories to different covens. Being the architect of this plan, Hillman assigned his own family to Boston, the closest coven to Salem. The others agreed, many of them wanting to get as far away from the bad memories Salem held as they could.

  Halfway through the book, I finally look up to find that Fiona has left the room at some point. Only Rule remains, and he’s watching me.

  “How long have you been staring at me?” I ask.

  “A while. You can tell a lot by looking at a person’s expressions when they’re unaware they’re being observed.”

  “And what do you think you know about me now?”

  He points toward the book I’m reading. “That some of what you’re reading is new to you.”

  “That shouldn’t be a surprise.”

  Rule shrugs. “We have no idea what’s discussed within the covens.”

  “Certainly no mention of witches without powers.”

  “That’s good. Maybe the knowledge of us has been lost over the years.”

  For his sake, he better hope so.

  “What have you been reading?”

  Rule lifts the paper on the top of the stack in front of him. “Some observations of the newly formed coven members. Their acts of retribution against those who’d killed witches, overheard snippets of conversation.”

  “Like what?”

  He lowers his gaze to the crinkled paper and begins to read. “My daughter and her friend have become the bane of my existence. They have had second thoughts, ones that they are sharing with too many of our neighbors. I fear I shall have to do something regrettable.” Rule lowers the paper. “That was from Reginald Davenport, the head of one of the new covens. There’s a newspaper account here somewhere dated about a month later reporting that Penelope Davenport and three of her friends disappeared from the edge of town. The official line was they were captured by bandits or Indians, but I suspect ol’ Papa Davenport might have ‘done something regrettable.’”

  “I doubt he regretted it very much. It’s been my experience the covens don’t experience regret.”

  “But you’re a member of a coven, and I’d wager you’ve experienced it,” he says. “Maybe recently.”

  “I don’t know why, call it an aberration, a recessive gene, whatever, but there is occasionally a coven witch who doesn’t fit the mold.”

  “How many?”

  I hesitate, thinking how pitiful the answer will sound in the face of more than three hundred years of witch history. “I know of three. Egan, myself, and . . . my mother.”

  “Your mother? She fled with you?”

  I swallow against the lump forming in my throat. “Not now. She tried, several years ago, but she was caught.” Might as well get it all out there because Rule will just keep asking questions. And I want them to know, really know, how committed I am to neutralizing the covens. “The covens do not allow defection, so they killed her. She died a horrible, agonizing death as my sister and I watched. And no, my sister did not flee with me either. She’s still fully within the coven fold.”

  “I’m sorry.” His words ring genuine, not with false condolence. After a few quiet moments, he speaks again. “That’s why you want to take away the covens’ power, isn’t it? So they can’t do that to anyone else?”

  “Yes. And the fact that I want to be free, to not have to live in hiding or constantly on the run like a fugitive.” I pause and stare at my hands for a moment, considering the enormous well of power there at my fingertips. “But it’s so much more than that. No one should have this kind of power. What happened to me at Shiprock, it makes me wonder if there’s a way to maybe reverse it.”

  “You’d do that, give up your magical powers?”

  I look up and meet his eyes. “If it meant the covens could no longer hurt anyone, yes, in a heartbeat.”

  If it means people like Keller and Toni will no longer be in danger, I’ll give up my life.

  Chapter Four

  By the time I finish reading the book, I feel as if my butt has adhered to the wooden chair. When I close the book and stretch, I notice Rule has his cheek propped against his upturned palm, and his eyes are closed.

  “You should go to bed,” I say.

  His eyes pop open. “What?”

  “You’re exhausted. Go get some sleep.”

  He lifts his head from his hand and blinks several times. “Nothing a good strong cup of coffee won’t cure.”

  “How long have you been up?”

  “Not as long as you think. I did sleep last night.” He pushes his chair away from the table and stands. “Come on. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “You’re going to sit there and tell me some caffeine won’t help right now? That a walk down the street won’t work out the kinks?”

  Both of those things sound wonderful right now, and I find myself smiling at him. “I didn’t say that.”

  All the way up the stairs and down the street to the Strong Brew Coffeehouse, I tell myself I’m not doing anything wrong, that I can’t cheat on someone I already left. Even if I haven’t left Keller in my heart.

  When the barista gives us our coffees, we make our way toward a window that overlooks the town’s main pedestrian mall. I shiver at the sight of the bundled-up figures walking back and forth, pausing in front of shop windows.

  “You’re not used to the cold, are you?” Rule asks.

  “No. I’m pretty sure hell is cold instead of hot.”

  He laughs, and it’s a pleasant sound that draws me a little closer to him.

  “Where are you from originally?” he asks.

  I take a sip of coffee, hoping to ward off some of the chill that’s settled in my bones on the walk to the coffeehouse. “You don’t know that already?”

  “Our family lost track of some of the covens after they left this area, as the country expanded and more cities were built. We kept our attention focused on preserving the history and watching Salem, where everything started.”

  I place my cup on the table and wrap my hands around it. “Miami.”

  “And from there you ran to North Carolina?”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” I run my fingertip along the cup’s handle, remembering how much I loved my short time in Baker Gap and yearning to return.

  “And you want to go back,” he says.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You get this faraway look of regret when you mention it.”

  I sigh and lo
ok out the window again. “I just realized, yet again, that there will be no normal life for me, or Egan, until the threat of coven punishment isn’t hanging over our heads. Not until we find a way to keep the covens from hurting anyone.”

  “What will they do to you if they find you?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  Rule reaches across the table and places his hand atop mine. “I do.”

  His touch feels wrong, so I slip my hand away and lay it in my lap.

  “They’ll make me wish I could die quickly.” I’m not up to describing the Siphoning Circle and how my power would be drained from me, and then my very life, inch by agonizing inch until I scream for mercy like my mother had, a mercy the covens are unable or unwilling to offer.

  For a couple of minutes, he doesn’t ask me anything else, instead allowing me to enjoy my coffee. But I sense more questions are lying in wait. So I ask one instead. “Have you read everything that’s in that room?”

  “At some point, yes. But it’s too much to remember.”

  I lean forward, my forearms against the top of the table. “But you would remember if there was something there that could defeat the covens?”

  “Yes, but I might not recognize it even if I saw it. I doubt it would come right out and say it in so many words.”

  I sigh. “It’s going to take us forever to get through everything.”

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  I shake my head. “Luck and I haven’t been on the best of terms lately.”

  When I finish my coffee, Rule points at my cup. “You want some more?”

  “No, I’m good. We should get back to work.”

  “How about we go for a drive first?”

  “Rule . . .”

  “I just thought you might like to see your ancestors’ property. It’s not that far out of town toward Danvers.”

  That does hold more appeal than burying myself back in that basement full of old papers. “Okay.”

  Rule retrieves his car from the herb shop and drives out of town. It only takes about fifteen minutes for his series of turns to bring us to a piece of property lined with trees down one side.

  “This is it,” he says. “Where the Phersons lived.”

  And died. Innocent members of my family were struck down right here. A shiver runs down my back at the terror they must have felt, the injustice of their impending deaths. It contrasts so much with the peaceful scene before me now.

  “You okay?” Rule asks.

  “It’s just so real sitting here staring at it.” I shake my head. “I’ve heard about my ancestors all my life, but after what I’ve learned recently I wonder how much of it was true.”

  “Members of your family did die here at the hands of zealots. If nothing else you’ve been told was true, that much is.”

  I wonder how I would have reacted if I’d seen my family slaughtered for no reason, a family that was good and kind. My stomach turns. I do know how that feels, and for a time I’d wanted to strike back. Fight evil with evil. But something inside me recoils at that. Is that the part I thought might have made me a white witch in Baker Gap? Something in me that wants to fight evil even when some of my thoughts and feelings seem evil, too?

  “It still didn’t justify what happened as a result.” I get out of the car, and despite the cold wind I start walking across the rolling piece of land.

  The darkness inside me vibrates with the need to punish, as if it can hear those long-ago screams, and I wonder if my ancestors felt that same roiling need for retribution.

  My breath catches, causing me to pause, as the darkness shifts inside me. It feels different, darker, almost . . . separate. Is being here in this place amping up my dark magic, causing it to suppress whatever light magic I might have accessed at Shiprock? Or was the potential for being a white witch lost that night, burned away in that one furious display? Have I instead awakened something much worse?

  Fiona’s words come back to me. You messed with something you don’t understand.

  I start moving again, forcing myself to breathe deeply and slowly. I spend half an hour walking, and Rule lets me have space. Only when I can barely feel my ears and nose do I start back toward the car. Rule slips into the driver’s seat and starts the engine as soon as I turn his direction. By the time I reach the car, the heat is blasting out of the vents.

  “Thanks,” I say, indicating the heat.

  “You’re welcome. Wish I’d thought to bring some extra coffee along.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t think I need to be any more wired than I already am.” I want to blame the coffee for the jittery feeling zipping through my body, but I know better. I can drink a barrel of coffee and not experience the edginess I feel now.

  “So, are you and Egan a couple?”

  Rule’s question comes so totally out of nowhere that I stare at him.

  “I mean, you’re both witches. Evidently the only two to defect. Would make sense.”

  “Not in this lifetime,” I say. Hope flickers in his eyes, and I have no choice but to squash it. “But I’m not in the dating market.”

  He watches me for a few seconds. “That’s who you left North Carolina to protect, isn’t it? Someone you cared about?”

  I consider denying it then wonder why. “Yes, and friends. People who aren’t equipped to deal with the covens.”

  Rule nods and reaches toward the gearshift.

  My hand shoots out and tightens around his wrist before I realize why. “Wait.”

  “What is it?” he asks.

  I lift my hand and motion for him to be quiet. There it is, the odd vibration I felt before when I was sure I was being watched. It’s the same as what was left behind by the person who broke into the cottage.

  “Someone is watching us.” More than that. Though I don’t recognize the signature, and it isn’t full strength, I get the distinct sensation it’s a witch.

  Electric power sizzles at my fingertips as I burst out of the car. I scan the surrounding area as I stalk past the front of the car, toward the source of the signature. I let the power build until it’s arcing between my hands like bolts of blue-white lightning.

  “Jax.”

  Rule makes the mistake of touching my arm, and the power vibrating off of my body sends him flying. He curses as he lands on his back. I turn my head and look at him. When he straightens and returns my gaze, his eyes widen.

  “What the hell?” he says.

  In the moment it takes me to shift my attention back to the watcher, they’re gone. I no longer sense anyone or anything resembling a witch signature. Something in me roars in frustration and has me spinning toward Rule. He caused this, the loss of my prey.

  Prey? The word shakes me, and it takes me a moment to pull my magic in and calm down enough to speak.

  “Are you sure there isn’t anyone else like you and your family here in Salem?” I ask without looking at him.

  Rule gets up from where he landed. “There shouldn’t be. Hasn’t been in a very long time.”

  “Is there anyone local who might take an interest in me? Someone who knows about witches?”

  “Are you kidding? Witchcraft is mostly just the thing that keeps the tourists coming and spending their money.”

  I turn halfway back toward him and point in the opposite direction. “I’m not kidding. Someone was watching us, someone who was way too interested in us, someone who left awfully fast when I detected them.”

  Rule scans the line of trees at the edge of the property then the rest of the horizon. “Maybe they were just surprised to see someone on this property.”

  I’m shaking my head before he even finishes. “No, it’s more than that. And I don’t like it.”

  “Well, they’re gone now. Maybe you scared the crap out of them.”

  I stare at his profile. “Do I scare you?”

  He glances at me before returning his attention to our surroundings. “You’ve attacked me twice in twenty-four hours. What do you think?�
��

  “You could have left.”

  “And how would I explain that when I got back? ‘Oh, Jax? I left her out in the country to fend for herself against an unknown stalker because she scares me.’” He looks at me. “Call me crazy, but I’m not that kind of guy.”

  I shake my head. “Crazy,” I mutter.

  He smiles a little as I turn away and look up at the sky and its waning wintry light. I’ve always hated when the days shorten, stretching the night to interminable lengths. Now, with cold added to the equation, I don’t know how I’m going to get through the winter.

  With another deep breath, I feel the last of my dangerous edge calm. Unable to meet Rule’s gaze, I walk back to the car and slide into the passenger’s seat. He slips quietly into the driver’s side and stares out the windshield for what seems like forever.

  “I could have taken care of myself, you know,” I say. “Made my own way back.”

  “I’m sure you could.” He meets my gaze. “Only part of you scares me.” He points toward the front of the car. “The part that was out there, that slammed me against the side of your cottage.”

  “And yet you willingly spend time alone with me?”

  “Yes.” Something about the way he says it makes me want to squirm. “The fact that you left your coven tells me that those slips are not really you. You’re looking for answers not only for yourself but to benefit everyone by ridding the world of the covens’ powers. You may be struggling, but I see conviction in you.”

  I slowly shake my head. “You are entirely too observant.”

  He smiles. “In the genetic code, I guess.” He sobers when he looks away. “Do you think it could have been a hunter watching us?”

  “No. I got the sense it was a witch, but something felt off. The energy level wasn’t the same as a coven witch, and I barely get any vibration off of you and your family at all. It was somewhere in between, like what I’ve felt a couple of other times since coming to Salem. It doesn’t make any sense, but then before coming here we didn’t know your kind existed. I have to wonder what else is out there that we don’t know about.”