This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2019 by Amberley Faith
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 9781540567178
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system - except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine or newspaper - without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Kindle Direct Publishing.
Cover design by Germancreative
Contents
Dedication
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to the real-life small town (which shall remain nameless) that inspired Stusa. Thanks for letting me, albeit unknowingly, exaggerate your flaws and minimize your kindnesses.
Rural American struggles are real. I hope this book will shed some light on some of the most overlooked places in America. Stay strong, small towns!
PROLOGUE
Nestled in a thickly wooded area, far away from the dirt roads, animal paths, and prying eyes that crisscrossed the area, the remnants of an old homestead rested amidst the undergrowth. A small fire burned in the crumbled remains of a chimney, its home long since decayed and vanished. A tiny, cast iron cauldron sat directly on the flames, wedged in between fallen bricks and chunks of deteriorating mortar.
Two girls wearing dark-colored, hooded cloaks tended the fire's hungry flames, feeding them small branches, dried leaves, and pinecones. A third girl, also wearing a hooded cloak - although hers was a violent shade of fuchsia - sat on a nearby log looking at her crystal-covered magenta cell phone.
"There is no service out here! I can't even send a text!" She groaned and looked up to see if anyone had heard her.
A fourth girl, keeping her face covered from view with her black hooded cloak, foraged through the undergrowth, moving in and out of the shadows while gathering bits and pieces of plants. She moved quickly and silently, so quietly that she liked to think of herself as nothing more than a shadow. She imagined herself floating along unnoticed, flickering in and out of view as the setting sun peeked its feeble rays through the dense leaves above.
The Shadow paused her search and responded, "We already discussed this! All of those modern conveniences you love so much interfere with the ritual." The Shadow turned to look at her. "So, turn off your cell phone now unless you want me to throw it in the fire."
While The Shadow's words were strong, her tone was cool and even. The fire-tenders glanced at each other, silently communicating after years of practice, and wondered if the phone would indeed be tossed into the fire. The cell phone junkie openly regarded The Shadow for a moment and made her decision. She sighed loudly as she turned off her phone and stuffed the sparkly, pink device into her neon-pink backpack.
A fifth figure, obediently dressed in a dark cloak, watched the exchange from the edge of the clearing. She had already gathered what flowers and roots she needed but didn't want to take her place around the cauldron. The fire-tenders' ability to communicate silently unnerved her; she always got the feeling they were talking about her. She knew they didn't like her. She almost hadn't come when she found out they were. Her desperation, however, drove her to make her appearance at the last minute. It was weird, spooky even, showing up wearing nothing but the prescribed, hooded cloak at dusk.
As the two fire-tenders returned to their flames, The Shadow dropped to her knees to unearth one last root. Of the five, she was the only who understood the many native plants, herbs, and berries growing among the brambles and briars deep within the woods of rural America – plants that would serve her purpose, like the purple petals of the bee balm, or the pungent roots of the sassafras tree. She gathered the plant parts using her cloak as a basket and approached the cauldron.
"It is time."
The two fire-tenders and the cell phone junkie stood and formed a circle around the gently bubbling cauldron. The shy figure made her way cautiously to the circle and nudged herself in between the fire-tenders. She thought severing their physical connection might also break their mental one.
The Shadow handed each girl a different plant part; the first fire-tender received the flower-covered stalk of a fairy wand along with the white, tufted top of a thimble weed. The shy figure took out her twigs of cedar. The Shadow nodded approvingly and handed her a bit of sassafras root. The second fire-tender received a few white berries with black dots that marked them as doll's eyes along with the cone-shaped floral cluster of a scarlet-red Cherokee bean. The cell phone junkie was given a toothed, narrow leaf of horse mint and the distinctive palmate leaf of a green dragon.
As for The Shadow, she held the roots of three different plants – anise root, Indian cucumber root, and snake root. Each girl held the vegetation in her right hand as she touched both wrists to those of the girls on either side. Slowly, carefully, they rotated their circle counterclockwise around the crumbling chimney and cauldron. In unison, they recited.
Firm roots of power
Strong stalks of love
Burning flames below
Fading sunlight above.
Fine petals of beauty
Sturdy leaves of wealth
Harvested at half-moon's dawning
Prepared in nature's stealth.
Reveal to us your secrets
Bestow your grace and charm
Grant us what we humbly ask
For we shall do no harm
We shall do no harm
We shall do no harm
The first fire-tender tiptoed to the cauldron while the others repeated the last line again and again in quiet voices. As she approached, she stumbled over her cloak and almost dropped her flowers. She gasped but managed to right herself and regain her c
omposure. She could not resist, however, taking a quick glance at The Shadow's face to check her reaction.
The Shadow's face was impassive, so the fire-tender swallowed and placed her stalks in the bubbling pot. She bellowed one loud, clear word, "Grace!" She had chosen her word carefully, deciding against ones like charm and elegance. Grace captured the poise she so desperately craved. She giggled and looked around at her twin expectantly.
The second fire-tender made it to the cauldron without mishap. She smirked at her sister who promptly returned a sneer. Satisfied that she had annoyed her sister, the second fire-tender took a deep breath and dropped her petals one by one into the mixture. As they fell, she shrieked, "Beauty!" She stared at the petals until they had disappeared into the frothing mixture and turned to give a nod to the shy one.
The shy one walked to the cauldron with surprising confidence and dropped in her twigs and roots. She inhaled and said, "Love!" She gave a slight nod to the cell phone junkie and returned to the circle.
The cell phone junkie strode to the cauldron without hesitation. She wadded her leaves into a small clump and threw it into the bracken-colored soup. When the ball of leaves hit the water, she screeched, "Money!" She looked over at her audience. Suddenly, laughter erupted from the four girls as they collapsed into a cackling heap, exhilarated by what they had just done.
The Shadow, ignoring them, stepped over the quartet of laughing bodies and squatted next to the simmering concoction. She placed her roots into the mixture one by one and whispered something, something that the giggling girls would try to remember afterwards to relive the melodramatic moment - something that sounded an awful lot like "Power."
When The Shadow finished, she pulled up the pile of laughing girls and made them circle up again and chant as the brew boiled. This time, they lifted their arms in the air and twirled as they rotated, cloaks flying and hoods falling back to reveal faces. The happy mood from the laughing pileup remained as they spun and swirled. The four girls let loose with the occasional whoop of glee. They felt the freedom of release and a wicked joy at being naughty, the liberating feeling of having broken the rules.
Amidst their celebration, the sun continued to sink lower and lower, the clearing lighted only by the orange fire that burned under the kettle. As the girls continued to spin, The Shadow stepped away from the group to the edge of the clearing. She thought she sensed a presence, but was it an animal or something more dangerous? She tilted her head and peered into the darkness.
"Everyone, stop! I need to hear!" She called out to the group of cloaked girls.
"Oh! She needs to hear. Let's all quiet down, then." The second fire-tender managed to call out in between bouts of laughter.
"Yeah, I'm sure there's a lot to listen to out here in the middle of the woods, miles away from civilization." The cell phone junkie added, rolling her eyes.
The shy one stopped abruptly, however, wondering what The Shadow was listening for. She shielded her eyes from the light of the fire and stared into the woods. She saw a glint of light at the exact same moment The Shadow yelled, "Run!"
The girls stopped dancing and looked over to see what was happening. The Shadow had already crossed the clearing and headed into the opposite side of the forest. She was running at full speed and seemed to melt into the forest. By the time the other girls saw the figure of a man, they were in full panic mode, screaming and tearing into the forest as fast as their bare legs could carry them.
The cell phone junkie realized she was an easy target, dressed as she was in vivid pink. She kicked up her speed and ran faster than she ever thought possible. She passed the other three girls and reached the cover of the forest. She didn't look back. She ran as deep into the woods as she could and hid behind a giant water oak when she ran out of breath.
Both twins, even the clumsy one, managed to pass the shy one and sprinted through the forest together. They had instinctively grabbed hands as they took off running so as not to be separated, and they ran into the forest, heading for what they hoped was the dirt road where they'd left their car.
The shy one, realizing she was last and the most likely to get caught, put on an extra burst of speed and threw herself into the forest in another direction from the twins, hoping that her pursuer would choose to follow them instead. Was she being chased? She didn't take time to look back. She thought she recognized the jacket the figure wore; one of her uncle's hunting jackets. She couldn't let him find her like this. He most certainly would not find it amusing. Being the holy roller he was, he'd probably think she had joined some cult.
The terror of him finding her half-dressed and chanting around a kettle in the dark sent her into another burst of panic-driven speed. She struggled through the dense undergrowth as roots and limbs grabbed at her, trying to prevent her escape. She pushed through, fighting to maintain her pace.
A large limb caught her cloak. She didn't take time to get untangled, and as she continued at her frantic pace, her cloak ripped off and fell to the ground. She wriggled clear of it without breaking her stride, crouching protectively as she ran. She couldn't let anyone see her now, stark naked except for her shoes and tearing through the forest as if her life depended on it.
She saw a spot in the forest that was darker than the rest. It seemed to suck up all the light. A hole, a cave. She dove in headfirst without hesitation, images of crash landing into a bear's den or a nest of snakes flashing through her mind. She gritted her teeth and prepared to land. She knew without a doubt that facing whatever animals inside would be easier than facing her uncle if he found her.
"They believed, in short, that they held in their steady hands the candle that would light the world. We have inherited this belief, and it has helped and hurt us."
- Arthur Miller, from "An Overture," Act One, The Crucible
CHAPTER ONE
PURSUING PARADISE
Ellie Pelletier sat on the front porch in her swing, laptop resting on her thighs, sipping a tall glass of her homemade lavender lemonade, fanning away gnats. She'd just finished planting her very first garden. It was small and only contained a few herbs: lavender, basil, anise, and her favorite – mint. She adored fresh mint leaves; there was nothing as refreshing on a hot day than a cool drink with a sprig of mint, and it was plenty hot here. Ellie added mint leaves to anything and everything - tea, water, lemonade, soft drinks, and on a difficult day - vodka.
For such a tiny garden, Ellie was surprised at the amount of work it took to prepare the soil, plant the seedlings, and water the tender plants. In the heat of summer, she had arisen early to work during the coolest part of the day. Although the plot was small, she was proud of her accomplishment.
She vowed to care for the little garden, watering and weeding it daily, in order to realize her longtime dream of preparing her own herbal creations from scratch. She knew exactly where she would start - with her signature lavender lemonade. She wasn't sure if she could grow lemons in this new climate, but she was confident that she could grow her own culinary-grade lavender for her favorite handcrafted drink.
After ten years in the big city, Ellie and her husband had decided to move their two kids and two dogs to the country. Méline was their nine-year-old daughter, shy and sweet. Méline had long, honey-colored hair; it was in between brown and blonde. It blended beautifully with her light-brown skin. Her golden eyelashes, light brown eyes, and sun-streaked hair gave her the warm look of a sun-kissed summer's day. Ellie wanted Méline to break out of her shyness; she hoped moving to a small town would ease Méline into her pre-teen years and further.
Bibianne, on the other hand, was about as shy as their bounding, playful Labrador puppy, Dédé. Bibianne and Dédé went everywhere together, and neither of them ever met a stranger. Bibianne's complexion was darker than her sister's. If Méline was café au lait, Bibianne was caramel macchiato - not quite mocha, but a dark French roast - as Ellie liked to tease. Bibianne's hair was a rich chestnut color with a fair amount of red in it. Ellie supposed tha
t came from her side of the family, along with the sprinkling of tiny freckles scattered across Bibianne's nose and cheeks. Bibianne was playful, mischievous, and charming. She would have no problem making friends in their new hometown.
When Ellie and Julien decided that they wanted more room, less crime, and less rush, they sold their city home and moved to a rural area in a state further south than either one had ever traveled. They purchased an old farmhouse, twenty miles outside the nearest town, and began job-searching. Ellie had found another teaching job on the same day that she submitted her application.
Julien quit his corporate job, cashed in his stock options, and purchased an old building in the quaint downtown area where he planned to pursue his true passion – photography. Once the building was renovated, his workshop would be the first professional photography studio in their new community of Stusa.
Ellie looked forward to finishing the refurbishment of the farmhouse. Besides being tired of living with half-finished projects, she was eager to start planning French lessons for her new students. She hoped to inspire them, as she had in her big city school, with her near-native French abilities.
Ellie had always loved the French language; it was her whole world. The food, the culture, the music, the people, and the language itself had inspired her not only to enroll in French classes in high school, but to spend her college years as an exchange student on the French half of the Caribbean Island of St. Martin. That decision had changed the course of her life; while studying there, she met the man of her dreams – Julien Pelletier.
Julien had been the bartender at Le Chemise, her favorite island beach bar overlooking the western coast. It had open air seating and large, colorful swaths of fabric shading its patrons from the afternoon sun. It was the perfect place to unwind after a day of studies and to watch the beautiful island sunsets. On one particularly memorable visit, Julien had given Ellie one of the bar's specialty drinks, homemade mint-infused rum. She had been absolutely bewitched, and not just by the drink.
Crucible Crisis Page 1
