The First Midnight Spell (7 page)

“Elizabeth!” he shouted again.

Aunt Ruth glanced over and saw Elizabeth standing there. Her face was pale and drawn. “Child, you should go to bed.”

“He's calling for me.”

“He's run mad,” Aunt Ruth said. “I don't know what's become of him, but he's not the Nat Porter we used to know.”

Elizabeth knew her magic had worked in ways she didn't yet fully understand—but she also knew the real Nat remained, only temporarily crazed by the spell she'd cast and the unsatisfied desire she'd created. She felt only the faintest tinge of fear, and that only made the thrill more delicious.

From outside, Nat called raggedly, “I've got an ax. I'll take down the door. Don't make me do that.”

Aunt Ruth pulled away from the door, holding her arm as though it had already been struck by the ax's blade. Elizabeth put her hand on her aunt's shoulder and said, “I'll go out to him.”

“Elizabeth, you mustn't. You don't know what he'll do.”

I know exactly what he'll do
. “I have to. It's the only way to keep you from being hurt.”

“My brave girl.” Tears shone in Aunt Ruth's eyes, and her hands trembled as she cupped Elizabeth's face. “The men will come after you. Hold on, do you understand me? Try to—to talk to him. Keep him talking until they reach you. Can you do that?”

“I can.”
I could, if I wanted to
. “Now keep the children in the back. Don't let them see.”

Now weeping, Aunt Ruth hurried to the back, shooing the tinier children toward darkness and safety. Elizabeth took a deep breath, then unbarred the door.

Nat burst through before she could even open it.

He had become wild. His golden hair was disheveled, his clothes disarrayed. His breaths came fast in his throat. In one hand Nat clutched the ax. As he looked at Elizabeth, standing there in her thin shift, his eyes darkened. “Come on,” he said, seizing her wrist. “Let's go.”

Elizabeth followed him, her heart singing. When they stepped outside, she could see all their neighbors had been awakened by the din; they stood in their doorways or slightly farther down on the path, huddled together, whispering. Just as Nat began towing her away from her house, a man appeared holding a rifle.

“Don't!” she cried, lifting one hand. “I don't want anyone to be hurt because of me!” That sounded like the right sort of thing to say.

The man with the rifle didn't move, not until Nat brandished his ax. Apparently fearing Elizabeth would be injured, her would-be defender stepped away, farther into the darkness.

“Hurry,” she whispered to Nat, and he tugged her along, backing up until their watchers were farther from them—and then, together, they ran.

Elizabeth laughed out loud. So now they'd all know. Well, let them know. There was nothing even Widow Porter could do about it now. Besides, she liked the idea. She liked imagining Pru's face when she heard that Nat had been so wild for Elizabeth he'd nearly beaten down her door. That would show her what a fool she'd been to ever doubt them.

Nat didn't seem to have a clear idea where to go; he was running away from Fortune's Sound, but toward nothing. Judging by the superhuman strength of his grip, all he knew was that he didn't want Elizabeth to be far away. Their destination would be up to her.

“Remember Cornwell's barn?” she said as they ran. A farmer named Cornwell had tried to plant too close to the coast, and the sandy soil had been the death of his crops. But the barn still stood there, ten years abandoned. “Let's go.”

Nat's only response was to run in that direction, even faster. Elizabeth, unused to such vigorous physical activity, found herself struggling to keep up.

In the darkness, they hardly saw the barn until they were fairly close to it. When they reached the threshold, Nat let the ax fall to the ground and swept Elizabeth into his arms. He carried her inside. The barn was no more than a shell of a building—loose boards jutting out, the standing supports looking like the ribs of some dead thing not yet picked clean by crows, but the bare spots in the roof overhead let the stars shine through.

At last we're alone,
Elizabeth thought.
At last nothing is in our way.

Perhaps she would have dreamed of a soft bed in a home of their own. But the thick clover growing in what had been the barn—that was soft enough. Nat laid her down, tore away her shift, and looked down at her as though he had never seen anything so beautiful. Elizabeth felt a moment's nervousness, but only a moment's. Then she held out her hands to him, and he kissed her, and there could be no stopping.

“I love you,” she whispered, helping him undress.

“Now.” Nat sounded desperate, as though he might be on the verge of tears. “It has to be now. I can't wait any longer, Elizabeth, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I can't.”

“You don't have to,” Elizabeth said.

It felt different than she'd thought it would. Not that girls were ever encouraged to think of such things, but of course they did, and Elizabeth had believed she understood exactly how things would go. Of course she understood the basics—no one could help raise livestock and not comprehend
that
much—but it was one thing to know, another to experience it. In the initial moment, when the pain was so much greater than she'd anticipated, Elizabeth cried out, felt a shiver of real terror, and thought she'd made a horrible mistake—

But that first pain faded quickly. Then Elizabeth knew only that Nat was with her, that they were as close as it was possible for two people to be. She could hear only his ragged cries, and her own, joining in. She reveled in the heat of his skin, the weight of his body, and above all her power over him. This was what it meant to be loved by a man, to be desired by him. This was everything she had ever wanted.

 

Had anyone told her beforehand that she could fall asleep after something so tremendous, Elizabeth would have laughed. Yet when she stirred from her place amid the clover, she realized she had been asleep a few hours at least, because dawn had grayed the sky overhead.

She also realized she lay beneath a blanket—no. Nat's jacket. He'd spread it over her, to keep her warm.

Smiling, Elizabeth sat up. Nat stood at the doorway to the barn, staring out at the ocean. They were close to the shore here.

He must have heard her move, because he turned his head toward her then. But he did not look her directly in the eyes. “Are you—are you well?”

“I'm fine. Better than fine.” Elizabeth smiled brilliantly. “How are you?”

Nat didn't answer her. He simply stared back out into the distance.

Probably he thought he'd acted in too much haste. She'd have to reassure him. “It's going to be all right. You'll see.”

“It can never be all right again.” His voice was dull and flat.

Elizabeth hesitated. She hadn't expected him to react this way. “Nat—you know that I—you know I care for you, don't you? Last night, we didn't do anything that I didn't want to.”

Her words didn't help. Nat said, “You wanted to be married like a proper woman. The only reason you came with me was because—you thought we'd marry afterward, didn't you?”

“We will,” Elizabeth said. “You want to marry me. I know you do.”

“I did.” A slight shudder passed through Nat. “Back when I thought I could be a decent husband to you, instead of what I am, which is—oh, God. I'm no better than an animal.”

This wasn't going how she wanted at all. “Of course you aren't! You simply got carried away, that's all. So did I.”

His laugh was a terrible sound. “You didn't take an ax to my door.”

She would have if she'd thought it would have worked. Elizabeth decided she needed to use the power the spell gave her. “Listen to me,” she said, relying on his suggestibility. “We'll explain to the others. Tell them you couldn't wait any longer, but we'd already made up our minds to be married.”

Nat nodded, but his stare remained vacant.

“I know your mother discouraged it, but now she'll see what has to be done. She'll give her consent. We'll be married today.” Elizabeth had to pause to revel in the thrill. “Afterward, nobody can keep us apart. We'll be together again tonight, and the night after that, and every night for the rest of our lives.”

He didn't quite seem to understand her. Then again—Elizabeth smiled as she realized it—no doubt he was tired, after last night.

She slipped back into her shift; it was torn now, around the neckline, but she could still tie it decently shut. At some point soon they'd have to return to Fortune's Sound. No doubt the people in town would be unnerved by Nat's behavior, but surely they would see that Nat and Elizabeth had to be married right away, no matter what. Even now, she might be carrying Nat's baby.

That gave Elizabeth a start. A baby? As soon as—swiftly she did the math—as soon as next spring? Though she liked playing with her little cousins, sometimes she felt as though she'd spent more time raising Aunt Ruth's children than being a child herself. They were only now big enough to see to themselves most of the time. Would she be burdened with another baby only a year after she'd finished caring for the others?

But that was ridiculous. It wouldn't be “a baby”; it would be Nat's child. That made all the difference. Surely when she saw Nat's baby in her arms, it wouldn't feel like a burden at all.

She hadn't thought Nat was watching her get dressed, but as soon as she had pulled herself together, he said, “You should go back.”

“We'll go back together.” Elizabeth held out her hand.

But he didn't take it. “No. I want them to know—at least to know that I let you go, of my own free will.”

With a laugh, Elizabeth said, “What do you mean, let me go? I wanted to be here with you. You know that.”

Nat turned to her then, and the look he gave her—it was as though he had never seen her before. No. As though he had never really known her. His eyes widened, and too late, she realized that he had glimpsed some fragment of the truth. Maybe he didn't understand what she really was . . . but even those who knew nothing of the true Craft believed in witches.

“Did you do this?” he asked, and his voice shook. “Did you do this to me?”

Elizabeth no longer believed in the First Laws, even the law that said no witch should ever speak of the Craft to a man. So she could have told him the truth. If she believed in his love for her, in the rightness of their being together, why not?

She told herself Nat wasn't ready to hear it yet. “No, of course not. Why would I do such a thing?” Elizabeth managed a laugh. “You wouldn't have had to come get me with an ax in that case, would you?”

“I don't know.” Nat buried his face in his hands. “Please, go. Just go.”

“Is that how you treat your future wife?” She attempted to smile, to make a joke of it.

Nat shook his head, never looking up at her. His shoulders were bowed as though he were carrying a tremendous weight. Why now, when he should be so happy and so satisfied?

The spell was too strong,
Elizabeth thought.
Sometimes stronger spells leave a person dazed in their wake.
She'd simply have to come up with another spell to cast on Nat, one that would restore his good spirits. Once she'd done that, they could begin their lives together properly.

Then, from outside, someone shouted, “Nathaniel Porter! We know you're in there!”

“Oh, my Lord, have mercy upon me,” Nat breathed.

“Nat!” Another man's voice cried out. Elizabeth clutched Nat's jacket to her chest, feeling more naked than she had before. “Is the girl alive? Tell us that much.”

“I'm alive!” Elizabeth called, unable to believe anyone could think Nat a murderer.

“Let her go,” the first man said, “before you make us come in there after you.”

Nat called back, “She's coming out. I swear it.”

Elizabeth pulled at Nat's sleeve. “Walk out with me. They'll see I'm fine, and that you and I—that you'll make things right.”

“I can't. Please, Elizabeth, go back home. And try to forgive me.”

She looked up at him in mute incomprehension. “Forgive you?”

His shirt was still half-open, his well-muscled chest still exposed. Elizabeth felt as if he had been holding her against him only moments before. How had this gone so wrong?

It was the men outside—those fools. They were ruining everything. Well, she'd go out and explain to them that Nat was going to marry her, so there was no point in worrying about the night before. Without another word to Nat, Elizabeth tugged on his jacket and stepped out of the ramshackle barn into the early-morning light.

She gasped. At least a dozen men ringed the barn, all of them carrying some form of weapon, whether it was a small knife or a pitchfork. The one who frightened her most was Daniel Pike; he held a rifle.

“No!” Elizabeth held out her hands. “No, you can't hurt him!”

“Get out of the way, girl,” Pike said. He looked less like he'd come to save her, more like he thought it might be fun to kill a man.

“I won't!” She dropped to her knees in front of the door so that nobody could go in without getting past her. “You don't understand what happened!”

“We all saw it,” said another of the men. His voice was gentler. “Come away, child. You're not yourself after a thing like that.”

They're going to hurt Nat,
Elizabeth thought wildly. She had to stop them. There were spells she could cast, spells of protection and confusion, spells of safety she could wind around Nat like a warm blanket against the winter's chill.

But she didn't have her charms. Not her pearl, not her jade, not even the modest bits of quartz and shale and malachite. Without them, it didn't matter how many spells she knew or could invent; it didn't matter which memories she called upon. The elements grounded the spells, and if she didn't have them, she was powerless. Elizabeth hardly ever allowed herself to do anything without her pouch of charms in a pocket or even under her pillow. Last night, in the rush of knowing Nat's desire for her, she'd made an exception. She'd allowed herself to get caught up in passion.