Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67614 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67614 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Giles Corey, you are being charged with witchcraft. What say you?”
I simply shake my head. “I do not wish to enter a plea.”
George narrows his eyes. “You must.”
I do not reply; I simply look down at the ground. “No, sir.”
“Take him,” George orders. I am flanked on either side by two men, each taking one of my frail arms as they carry me to a wagon.
I look back and see Martha standing in our doorway, weeping as she watches them take me away. Is this the last time I shall see her lovely face? Will they take me straight to the gallows?
Instead, I am led directly into a courtroom, and Thomas Newton, the prosecutor, stands before the judges, ready for my trial.
I do not have a solicitor.
“Giles Corey,” the judge begins, “you are formally charged with being a witch. What say you?”
“I will not enter a plea.” I firm my jaw as the room quiets in surprise.
“You must enter a plea so we may move forward with these proceedings,” the judge replies.
“I will not.”
“You refuse?”
“I do, sir.”
The judge watches me and rubs his hand over his mouth, then points to George, who is standing in the back of the courtroom.
“Sheriff, take Mister Corey out and press him until he enters a plea.”
My heart stops. Surely, I must have misheard. Perhaps this is a bluff to get me to enter a plea.
My arms are seized again, and they drag me into the middle of the street, where a crowd has already begun to gather ‘round.
“On the ground,” George orders, and I am unceremoniously thrown down. My poor back aches from the fall.
They place a door over me, and it already makes it hard to breathe.
“Before we add the first boulder, Giles Corey, what say you in regards to the charge of witchcraft?”
They cannot do this. It has to be a ruse.
“Weight,” I call out. There is a loud whack, and then it is even harder to breathe.
I remain there for three days. Sometimes, I pass out and can escape the agony. But then I awaken again and am thrust into the middle of a nightmare.
I feel death growing close. But, honestly, it will be a welcome reprieve from the pain.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
“Giles, open up!”
I gasp for air and tug on my shirt, pulling it away from my chest. It feels too tight. Goddess, I can’t fucking breathe.
“Giles, open the door!”
“Lorelei?” I push Merlin off my stomach and stand, then stumble to the door and yank it open.
Lorelei’s eyes widen. “What in the name of Freya is going on here? You look like…I don’t even know.”
“Nightmare.” I continue to gasp for breath. “Fucking nightmare. I was Giles in 1692, and I was being crushed.”
“Holy shit,” she mutters and frames my face with her cool hands. “Breathe. You’re in modern-day Salem, and no one is killing you, Giles. You’re safe.”
I nod and take a long, deep breath.
“Thanks. I’m okay. What’s wrong? Why are you here?”
“Lucy called me and said Breena passed out on her back porch. We need to get over there.”
I scowl. “That doesn’t make sense. Breena texted me and told me she was visiting with Lucy.”
“My guess is she didn’t text you.”
I reach for my phone and check. Sure enough, there is no text from Breena.
But there are several missed calls from Lucy.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter and hurry out the door after Lorelei. “She went over there to find Merlin, but not long after she left, the damn cat jumped up onto the couch with me.”
“This is so fucking weird,” Lorelei grumbles as we drive to Lucy’s house. “And today had been such a nice, normal day, too. Literally nothing out of the ordinary happened, and I was enjoying the hell out of it.”
“It gave us a false sense of security.” I drag my hand down my face, trying not to freak out at the thought of Breena passed out at Lucy’s house while I slept on the couch with a purring cat.
It’s absolutely fucking unacceptable.
“We have to do something about this son of a bitch,” Lorelei says. “I’m sick to death of being his play toy. Of all of us being his play toys. Who the hell does he think he is, anyway?”
“He thinks he can do whatever he wants. Kill whomever he wants. We are his toys, Lorelei, and he’ll keep doing this bullshit until we stop him.”
She doesn’t reply as we hurry the short distance to Lucy’s. When she parks, I rush out of the car and up the steps to the house.
“What’s going on?” I demand as soon as I see Jonas standing by the back door.
“I wasn’t here,” Jonas replies, holding up his hands. “I was in Hallows End when it happened. Lucy is in the guest room, where Breena’s lying down.”
I rush past him and up the steps to the second floor, finding the two women in the guest room, as Jonas said. Lucy pats Breena’s forehead with a wet cloth, and Breena looks so pale it makes my heart ache.