The Thirteenth Sacrifice (33 page)

She straightened and forced her voice to resonate as she continued. “This is my only act of compassion. For any who choose to remain, I will bind them from speaking of your leaving to anyone; they will suffer death at my hand if they do. I have killed Bridget, whom you all feared, as easily as breathing when I was weakened and she was not. Imagine what I would do to any of you. To
all
of you.”

She paused to let her words sink in. She could see the struggle on many faces. In the end she had been able to
kill Bridget not because she was more powerful than her but because she had managed to take her by surprise. That wasn’t how they saw it, though, and she could see just as much fear of her on their faces as fear of staying in the coven. Finally she finished. “I offer each of you a chance at life, a chance to walk away and save yourselves. Who will take it?”

“I will.” A young girl with flaming red hair spoke up quickly. Samantha walked to her. She leaned down and took the girl’s hand. She closed her eyes and reached deep inside herself, pulling energy from the air around her and the earth beneath her. And then she passed some of it to the girl. She opened her eyes and helped her to stand.

And the girl’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Go, and do no more evil,” Samantha whispered for her ears alone.

The girl began to walk and then she ran, fleeing the cemetery as though the very hounds of hell were on her heels. The others watched her go and then turned admiring and fearful gazes upon Samantha. They knew she had found the extra power to grant the girl enough energy to run when none of the rest of them had enough even to stand.

“Who else?” Samantha demanded.

Two older women who were sitting together with clasped hands nodded. “Us.”

Samantha moved over to them, took their hands, and gave them the strength to stand. They did and embraced each other tearfully. Then they turned to Samantha. She could do nothing to alleviate the horror and the pain in their eyes.

“Help each other to heal, but do not let each other forget,” she whispered.

They nodded and then they too hurried from the cemetery. Samantha’s knees wanted to buckle, but she forced herself to turn, trying to pull more energy from her environment, though she was so exhausted that her ability to do so was badly impaired.

“Who else?” she asked.

A man lying on the ground, too weak to move or speak, grunted. She walked to him, working hard not to show her own pain and fatigue. She leaned down and touched his hand. After a moment he sat up and took a deep breath. He had been on the verge of death. Slowly, he stood.

“Forgive me,” he whispered.

“There are others you must ask that of, not me. Make sure that you do so when you can say it and they can hear it.”

He bowed his head and then limped slowly away.

Before she could ask the question again, an old woman and a young man raised their hands. Samantha moved to them, took each by the hand, and raised them to their feet.

“I wanted a better life for my grandson than I had,” the old woman said, tears shimmering in her eyes.

“Then give him the love you never had.”

Samantha turned to the boy. “And give her the hope she needs.”

They both nodded and they held each other up as they left.

“Anyone else?” she asked the remaining ten.

Silence greeted her. She turned and looked at Autumn, silently willing her to go, but the girl turned her head away.
She’s sealed her own fate,
Samantha thought.

“Last chance,” she said.

She turned slowly. The remaining ones were staying.
She could see it in their body language, though none dared to meet her eyes.

“Very well. Those six that have left—they are dead to all of us. And if I hear a word that anyone said otherwise, that anyone sought them out, then I will end that person. Understood?”

Every head nodded.

“Good.”

Samantha turned and walked away, head held high, refusing to show any sign of weakness. The others she left lying on the ground. It would be hours before they recovered strength enough to move on their own. Until then they could sit with the dead, including their recently fallen comrades, and contemplate the consequences of their decisions.

She made it past the cemetery and slowed slightly, forcing one step at a time. She stumbled a couple of times, but forced herself to keep walking. There was so much she needed to do, but she was helpless until she could heal and regain her strength.

She gritted her teeth against the pain. Every step sent shock waves through her bones, jarring them. Her nerve endings flared, on fire. She could hear her body creaking and groaning, threatening to fly apart at any moment. She was completely drained. She was so dehydrated that despite the pain, no tears could form.

Her muscles began to cramp and spasm. Her fingers contracted, curling into her palms, and the pain robbed her momentarily of her vision. Her body was beginning to shut down. She had drained it of everything it needed to sustain itself. She needed to find some place of safety, where she could get off the street and hide. She would never make it back to her hotel room, and the farther she walked toward it, the more protestors and revelers she would encounter.

I can’t die, not like this,
she thought, her mind flailing about for a solution. She took one more step and crumpled to the pavement. Her vision started to fade and she could feel her heart slowing, slowing.

“Samantha!”

Someone was calling her name, but she didn’t know who.
I should answer,
she thought. But she was too tired.

“Samantha!” Someone was touching her, but she didn’t know why.

And then she didn’t know anything.

Samantha woke with a start, her heart pounding. She opened her eyes and had no idea where she was. It was an old-fashioned bedroom and she was lying on the bed. She turned her head and saw Anthony sitting in a chair, watching her quietly.

She tried to speak, but her mouth was too dry.

Most of her childhood she’d heard the voices of the others of her coven in her head at one time or another. And trapped with Ed in the basement of Abigail’s house, the voices there that had said she was going to die had also been internal. She had forgotten how to put her words into another’s mind, but the knowledge came rushing back suddenly.
Where am I?
she thought, reaching out to touch his mind.

He jumped, startled, and stared at her for a moment wide-eyed.

“The Turner-Ingersoll Mansion.”

She blinked. The name sounded familiar, but at the moment everything seemed hazy.

“The House of the Seven Gables,” he said.

How?

“I found you on the street just outside. I could barely feel your pulse. They know me pretty well here and as a
professional courtesy to another museum curator, they allowed me to bring you up here. Don’t worry, we won’t be disturbed.”

How long?

“Going on two hours now.” He flushed and looked away. “I tried doing that thing you did to me, you know, pushing energy into you. Not sure it worked.”

It did. You saved my life. Thank you.

He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

Water?

He got up and disappeared, then returned a minute later with a bottle of water.

He helped her sit up and put it into her hand, steadying it as she tilted it to her lips.

The water flowed into her and she felt her parched body absorbing it before it even passed down her throat. She drained the bottle and then blinked at him.

“Oh, okay. Be right back.”

He returned a minute later with three more bottles and then helped her as she drank them one after the other.

When she was finished she looked up at him. She tested her voice, which was scratchy, and said out loud, “Thank you. Really.”

He shrugged, clearly conflicted. “I just gave you back what was yours.”

It was her turn to nod. He hadn’t given her much energy, but it had been enough to sustain her, allow her body to restart.

“So, you going to tell me what happened?”

She shuddered and dropped her eyes. “I failed.”

“What do you mean you failed?” Samantha heard Anthony ask.

“She’s back, from the dead. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.” She buried her face in her hands. “I wasn’t strong enough.”

He was silent for so long that she thought he had left. She finally lifted her head and saw him sitting there, emotions colliding on his face as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“I guess the real question is, what are we going to do about it?” he asked. “What’s the new plan?”

And looking at him she realized that as exhausted as she was, as much as she needed to fall apart, she had to hold it together for him.

She took a shuddering breath. “Did you find out the name of the doctor that treated you?”

“No, I was on my way to the hospital to find out when I saw you.”

“Now would be a good time to go. He won’t be there. All the members of the inner circle left with Abigail after the event and are having a private meeting.”

“I see you weren’t invited.”

“No. And none of them will live to regret that.”

“I like the way you’re thinking.”

“I need to find the name of that doctor so I can confront him when he’s alone and make him tell me how we can purge the toxins. Otherwise, by the time night falls, the number of people that are out there, with emotions running high, there’s going to be a bloodbath. We have to secure the environment and I have to recover my strength before we can make a move against Abigail and the others.”

She stood up. She was unsteady on her feet for a moment, but better than she had been at any point since the resurrection. She reached out and grabbed his shoulder for support, trying not to unconsciously siphon energy off him as she did so.

“I need to get back to my hotel room. Get me the name of that doctor as soon as you can.”

“Okay. Do you want me to take you to the hotel?”

“No, I can manage,” she said, wincing. “The walk will do me good.”

A minute later they walked downstairs and out of the mansion. On the street he headed to his car while she turned her steps back toward the Hawthorne. It seemed hard to believe, but it was only noon. Still, the people had packed themselves in even tighter, and around her she could feel tensions soaring. Many sat on the curbs lining the streets and she knew that most of them had been there a few hours earlier when their energy had been used to fuel the resurrection. The people crowding in behind them were more restless, many of them newer arrivals. She had to push past them on her way to her hotel and as she passed through the crowds, she leached a small amount of energy off everyone she touched—not enough that they would miss it, but enough to do her some real good.

By the time the hotel came within sight, her strides
had regained their strength. She took slightly more energy from the last dozen people, and when she reached the door of the hotel she felt stronger, better than she ever had. She thought of how Bridget had looked when she was funneling energy off everyone and she wondered whether her own skin and eyes were glowing.

She crossed the threshold into the hotel and uttered a sigh of relief, which caught in her throat as a wave of energy slammed into her. Abigail was there.

Samantha turned her head to the left, where a small staircase led downstairs to a meeting room called the library. It had a cozy, cavelike feel and shelves filled with books.

She went downstairs and entered the room. Abigail was sitting in a chair, her hair freshly washed and braided, wearing a black dress that Samantha remembered all too well. She glanced around the room but didn’t see anyone else present.

“You always loved this place as a child,” Abigail said, sounding amused.

Samantha’s blood ran cold. The woman knew more about her childhood than she did. She would have to be alert to keep from giving herself away.

Instead of answering she just smiled and sat down in the chair next to her. Abigail was taller than she was. Time had not changed that. Samantha forced herself to sit still as the witch reached for her.

Abigail’s clawlike fingers grabbed her chin and she peered into Samantha’s eyes.

“I understand you go by the name Samantha now, child,” Abigail whispered.

“Yes,” Samantha said, raising her head defiantly, hoping that Abigail had not revealed her birth name to the others.

Abigail chuckled. “It’s wise, not to let others have your real name. A practice I myself adopted a long time ago. Fortunately, they did not need my name to bring me back, just my bones.”

Samantha forced herself to keep smiling even as despair ate at her. Growing up, she had never dreamed that Abigail Temple was not the woman’s real name, though she shouldn’t have been so surprised.

“I know what you did in the cemetery, after we left,” Abigail said, still smiling. “It was very, very clever. You found a way to rid our coven of the weaklings, those without the heart or stomach for the work they do, without making extra work disposing of the bodies. Clever girl. And they’ll be so terrified of us, and so grateful to you, for the rest of their lives, that they will never tell. You’ve won their loyalty as well. I imagine they’d do just about anything for you if you asked.”

Samantha couldn’t tell if Abigail suspected her real reasons for letting them go. Fear coursed through her, but she forced herself to stare into the old woman’s eyes. “In many cultures when you save someone’s life, you own their life. Those people were far more valuable owing me than feeding the worms. Someday when I need something from one of them they’ll have no choice but to give me anything I ask.”

“A dangerous plan,” Abigail mused. “But very, very clever,” she added with a slight smile.

“I had an excellent teacher,” Samantha said. She tried hard not to give any indication of her fear for those she had let go.

“And you were my best student. I had such dreams for you, such plans. I’m sorry I didn’t live to see them fulfilled. But now all that is changed. They told me how
you found them, and I must say, I would have expected nothing less from you.”