How to Hang a Witch (11 page)

I
unfold a small piece of white paper shoved into the edge of my locker. It reads:
Meet us at Ropes Mansion garden on Essex at 3:15 ~Susannah.
I look at my cell phone. It's 3:05. I speed-walk through the crowded hall and out the door.

I text Jaxon not to wait for me, and search Ropes Mansion on my phone. It's not far. Either they plan on jumping me in a garden or they think Elijah's notes have credibility.

A few blocks from the school, I pass a funeral home with a young woman outside it struggling to keep her composure as she greets people. Who did she lose, I wonder? A friend, her husband, her father? I shake my head to clear the thought, but look right at the placard that says the name of the deceased…
Proctor. Another descendant death.
I bite my lip and pick up my pace.

It only takes me a few minutes to get to Essex. It's an old street lined with brambly trees and redbrick sidewalks. I approach the tall tower of a Gothic church and check my phone again. The map says it's right here, but I don't see a garden or Susannah.

I follow the spiked iron fence around the church.
FIRST CHURCH IN SALEM, FOUNDED IN 1629
, a sign reads. The fence ends, and there's a big wooden trellis covered in vines.
Should I go through?
I look around, and step onto the path that leads toward the archway.

Passing under the thick vines, the small dirt walkway opens into a labyrinth of trails, all lined with blooming flowers. In the center of the buzzing garden is a sundial, and around it, Susannah, Mary, and Alice.

I can tell they're arguing by their hushed voices and hard expressions.

“Samantha,” Susannah says, and they all turn. With their black clothes and the Gothic tower in the background, they look more intense than usual.

“You're late,” says Alice.

I look at my phone. “By two minutes.”

“Exactly,” Alice says to Susannah as though it proves a point.

What were they talking about before I arrived?
“Did you read the papers I gave you?”

“Yes,” says Susannah, handing them back to me.

Alice fixes me with her gaze. “Who gave them to you?”

“There's no way that's your handwriting,” adds Mary, and Alice pinches her in the arm.

“Ow.” Mary pulls her arm away. “That hurt, you know.”

“Don't worry about where I got them. What did you think?”

“Are you incapable of answering a simple question?” Alice squints at me like I'm dim-witted.

“We were surprised that you knew so much about the local families,” says Susannah.

“You knew about these deaths, didn't you?” I ask, reading into the diplomacy of Susannah's answer. Was that why she wanted to talk to me about John's great-grandfather and why she told me to be careful in the graveyard? What are these girls up to?

Mary sulks. “It's news to me.”

Susannah looks at Alice before continuing. “Those papers contain decades of records. How'd you track them all down?”

I guess that's what they were fighting about when I came. Alice and Susannah know something they didn't tell Mary. Hmmm. Mary pulls at her springy brown curls and frowns. She's not as closed off as Alice or as poised as Susannah. If there's one of them that's likely to speak freely, it's her. That's why Alice always tells her to shut up. “Mary, what do you think?”

“I think you're right. I think we're cursed. And I, for one, wanna figure it out. I have zero interest in dying or watching my family die. Lizzie's brother—”

“Mary.” Alice cuts her off. “Enough.”

So they know I'm right about these deaths being more than a coincidence. Thank you, Mary.
“Okay, Alice, if you don't think there's anything weird about this, then I'll just go.”

“That handwriting is old cursive, and that information would take you months to compile. You're clearly up to something. And I want to know what.”

“And you three are in a hidden garden without Lizzie and John. Plus, Mary didn't even know any of this until today. You're up to something yourself.”

“I'm not playing games with you.”

“You could just ask me nicely, and I
might
consider telling you,” I say.

Alice gives me the finger.

I walk away. Alice either accepts me as an equal and we work together on this or I'll figure it out with Elijah. I'm not going to put up with her crap every day. I'm done.

“Don't go, Samantha,” says Susannah. For some reason, I can't bring myself to hate her. “Please tell us what you know.”

I stop.

“Let her go,” says Alice.

“You don't like your family, Alice, but I'm really close with mine. What if these numbers are right?” Susannah presses.

“Yeah, really, Alice,” adds Mary. “I'm not cool with gambling on this.”

“Fine. But this is between us. Lizzie and John are out of it for now.” Alice looks at me. “Well?”

Not that I ever want to talk to Lizzie or John again, but I don't get why Alice is excluding them. Makes me wonder what else she's hiding. I rejoin them at the sundial. There is an inscription on it that reads
HOURS FLY. FLOWERS BLOOM AND DIE. OLD DAYS OLD WAYS PASS BY. LOVE STAYS
.
And so does a curse.

“Let's go to your house, Mary. It's only a block away from here,” Susannah suggests.

“Not gonna happen,” Alice says before Mary can answer.

I can't help but notice that together we look like a friggin' coven. I clear my throat. “Okay, here's what I know. These deaths aren't random. They occur in a pattern. And they're triggered when at least one member of each of the major Witch Trials' families is in Salem. Unfortunately, there's a complete list of major families here right now.”

The shock is obvious in Alice's expression. She quickly glances over her shoulder. “We need to discuss this somewhere more private.”

“Y
ou expect me to believe that?” Alice asks, cracking her knuckles and leaning back on the burgundy pillows on Mary's couch. Mary's house has a much more homey feel than mine does. Nothing is terribly fancy or breakable, and everything looks lived-in. The coffee table has light scratches, and there is a small chip in the platter holding the veggies and dip that we've been munching on.

“Look.” I lean forward in my armchair and hand Alice my phone displaying an old map of Salem. “Mr. Wardwell said the main requirement for the hanging location was that it had to be outside of town. The
only
way out of town at the time was over Town Bridge. That Walgreens is right on the other side of where that bridge used to be. It would have been the closest and easiest place to choose.”

“We should go check it out,” says Mary, sitting cross-legged on the floor, wrapping a curl around her finger.

Alice examines the map. “Being in a convenient location and visible from some window you say you found doesn't mean you're right.”

“Okay, well, look. There's an old cart road on that map right behind where the Walgreens is now. And
no
cart road or any road at all where everyone thinks the hangings happened. I mean, I went to the place you guys call Gallows Hill and there's no way they got carts full of people up that steep thing easily. They definitely didn't do it without a cleared road,” I say.

Susannah and Alice share a knowing look.

Susannah nods. “Then it's settled. We go.”

My recent woods experience comes to mind. “Now? In the dark?”

Alice smirks. “If you're scared, you should stay here. You won't be missed.”

I shift in my chair. “I'm just not sure what we'll get out of seeing it in the dark.”

“Clarity,” says Susannah, and looks at me. “Your grandmother thought the real hanging location was important, Samantha, because it holds an imprint of that event. Like a memory.”

I'm not following.

Alice shakes her head. “No way, Susannah. We're not doing that with her.”

“I think we should,” says Mary.

Okay, seriously, what's going on?

“How can we expect her to tell us what she finds, if we don't include her in what we know?” Susannah asks.

“She's not one of us,” says Alice. “Don't forget that.”

“She
is
one of the descendant families,” says Mary.

“On the wrong effing side of history, Mary.”

“Well, she wears black,” Mary says as though that means anything. I crack a smile. There is something endearing about her.

“Alice, it's too important.” Susannah plays with the fringe of the pillow on her lap.

Alice points her finger at me. “If you say one word of this to Jaxon or anyone else at school, I will burn you to the ground.”

“Uh, okay,” I say. Her threat doesn't really make sense, but it sounds morbid.

Mary stands up, practically bouncing. “I'll get the candles.”

Candles? I do
not
want to be in those woods with candles. But if I don't go, I might break this thing we have going, and they might never include me again.

Mary opens the coat closet near the front door and digs around in the bottom of it. She returns with a cloth bag and four black hooded capes and tosses one to each of us.
My life is getting more ridiculous by the minute.

The front door opens, and someone who is unmistakably Mary's mother comes through with a bag of groceries. Her hair is more tightly curled than Mary's and she wears it pinned high up on her head, but her eyes and mouth are almost exactly the same.

“I see I've arrived just as you girls are leaving,” Mary's mom says, clearly noticing our black capes.

My instinct is to hide mine under my butt. I can only imagine the questions that would pour out of Vivian if she walked in on a similar scene.

Mary throws her arms around her mother with enthusiasm, almost knocking the groceries out of her hands. For a second Mary looks more like a little girl than she does a gothic chic, secretive Descendant.

Mary's mother kisses the top of Mary's head. “Come back home soon—we're going to have dinner in a few hours. You girls are welcome to stay.”

“My mom is expecting me,” Susannah says. “But thanks, Mrs. P.”

“I'll be here,” Alice says.

“I don't doubt that,” Mrs. P says, and winks at Alice.

These girls must spend an awful lot of time together. I can't even imagine what it must be like to have a routine like that with a group of friends. I awkwardly stare at Mary's mom, unsure if the invitation extends to me.

“This is Sam.” Mary gestures toward me, and I'm grateful for the well-timed introduction.

Mrs. P's eyes widen ever so slightly and I'm positive she knows who I am. “Don't let these girls make you dance naked in the moonlight.”

I appreciate that someone else finds the whole witch thing silly, but her nonreaction to the black capes and that comment make me seriously wonder what it is these girls do in their spare time.

Mary laughs. “But it's such a fun initiation.”

“Yeah,” Susannah says. “And it beats the heck out of the sacrificial one we used to have.”

Alice rolls her eyes. I don't think she likes that her friends are joking with me, however twisted the jokes might be.

“You should see your face,” Mary says, grinning at me. She kisses her mom on the cheek. “Be back soon.”

I follow the girls out the front door and into the long driveway. Mary pulls out car keys.

“You have a car?” The New Yorker in me is surprised.

Alice and Susannah smile. “Yup,” says Mary. “I only have a learner's permit, but Alice just got her junior operator license.”

I don't even want to know which level of inexperienced that is. Mary throws the keys to Alice and we all climb into a black Jeep Wrangler. The moment my door closes, I grab my seat belt.

“Have you guys always lived in Salem?” I ask.

Susannah turns toward me in the backseat. “Always. For generations. As far as I know, most of the witch descendants never left.”

“I'm leaving,” Alice says. Alice drives like a City taxi driver, fast and aggressive. Vivian's maneuvering seems tame next to hers. Thankfully, the Walgreens is only a half mile away.

Mary pouts. “You can't. The circle will break if you do.”

“Here,” says Alice as the Jeep screeches to a stop in a parking space. We all fly forward. What circle? They act like they're in a secret society. If it's possible, I think they might be more distrustful than I am.

The parking lot is U-shaped and there's a fifteen-foot cliff of rocks and dirt running along the back of the property. We walk toward it, Susannah and Mary carrying bags of spider legs or whatever nonsense they packed.

“It looks like we can get up the hill over there,” says Mary, and points toward the dark corner of the lot where the slope is less steep.

Alice steps onto the slanted earth and we follow. I grab a couple of tree branches to keep from sliding.
This is really not my thing.

“Let's walk to a more secluded spot,” suggests Susannah.

Let's not.
The light from the streetlamps fades as we make our way deeper into the trees, and I can't see more than a couple feet ahead of me. Low-hanging branches threaten to take my eyes out, or at least disturb the tiny sense of security I have left. I walk with my hands in front of me.

“This'll work,” says Alice when we reach a small circular clearing.

I look in all directions, but I can't place where we are. The trees are thick, and as far as I can tell there's no moon. Mary pulls out a dark blanket, and we help her spread it out. The clearing's just big enough for it.

I sit down and pull on the hooded cape, mainly to minimize my peripheral vision. If I can see Elijah, does that mean I can see other ghosts?
Quick, think about something else. Kittens, puppies, daisies…black-eyed Susans, Abigail, ghosts. Shit.

Susannah and Mary light candles and arrange them on the blanket. The trees flicker in the flames and the branches look like they're moving. I have a strong urge to look over my shoulder. Why didn't I back out when I had the chance? If someone says “Let's contact the dead,” I don't care how stupid I look, I'm running full speed outta here.

Alice ties little bundles of I don't know what…herbs? This silent ritual thing is killing me.
Someone say something so I can get out of my own freakin' head!
“So, what ex—” I start.

“I'll tell you when to speak. Until then, shut up,” Alice snaps, her long blond hair shining in the candlelight.

“Don't worry,” says Susannah. “You'll catch on.”

Susannah lights four candles in the middle of the blanket, and everyone's faces glow.
So not comfortable.
Alice looks at Susannah and she nods.

“I call upon the power of water. That it may wash away my doubts and calm my spirit. Only through stillness may I see clearly.” Susannah finishes her words by dripping water from a small glass bottle onto her fingers and flicking it over the candles. They sizzle but don't go out.

Susannah looks to her left at Mary. “I call upon the power of earth. That it may guide my path and ground my spirit. Only through balance may I see clearly.” Mary picks up some dirt from the edge of the blanket and sprinkles it over the candles.

Mary looks at Alice. “I call upon the power of air. That it may elevate my thoughts and lift my spirit. Only through breath may I see clearly.” Alice waves her hands around the flames and they leap into the air.

They all look at me.
Fire? Am I supposed to say ‘fire'? What are the words again?
“I call,” I say uncomfortably. “I call upon…the, um, fire…power of fire.”

“That it may light my way and impassion my spirit. Only through purification may I see clearly,” they all continue in unison.

Alice hands each of us one of the bundles she made. I mimic them and stick the end of mine in the fire. Alice holds out a bowl, and we drop in the burning herbs. There's a strong musky smell and a lot of smoke.

They all say together, “I mean what I say, and I say what I intend. Know my desire and give me clarity.”

“Repeat,” Susannah whispers.

“I mean what I say…and I say what I intend. Know my desire and give me clarity?”

Susannah and Alice offer me their hands. I take them. Through the smoke, their faces waver slightly, like bad reception on a TV.
Wait, what is that?
A moment passes and their faces flicker more violently. Then they blur completely with the faces of other women. It's as if I'm seeing two sets of people at once, the Descendants and some unknown older women.

I open my mouth, but everything goes black. Even the noise of the crackling flames stops. For a split second, a picture flashes through the darkness—the back of a boy's head bleeding on the ground, his body crushed under a large piece of metal.

Mary's scream breaks my vision and the blackness, and I once again see the girls as they normally are, without the blurred faces. It takes me a second to figure out what's happening. Everyone's panicking, blowing out candles and scooping up the spell ingredients.

“Samantha, come on,” says Susannah, and I get up.

Alice snatches the blanket, and I follow them at a fast clip through the trees. With each step I become more aware of the blackness and the nagging sense that something was in the woods with us. I run so fast that I slide down the slope of the hill and land back in the parking lot with scratched hands. Mary paces by the Jeep.

“What was that?” Mary demands.

I grab my head, trying to stop the nausea. My skin pulses with the impossible rhythm of my heart. Maybe there were hallucinogens in those herbs? Was I wrong all along? Do they actually know magic? I mean, I see ghosts. This isn't that different.

“I don't know,” says Alice. “Those faces…”

Mary pulls her cape off. “You saw that, right, Susannah?”

“I did.”

And who was that crushed guy?
There was so much blood.
“Did you—”

“Everyone just stop talking for a minute,” says Alice.

“I wanna go home,” says Mary.

Alice pulls out the keys and unlocks the Jeep. No one hesitates; we all jump in.
I so wish I hadn't come to this,
I think as I climb in the backseat. From the side mirrors, I can see that everyone has the same disturbed expression. We ride home in silence.