I can’t move. I jerk my arms hard, but they’re bound tightly against my body. I can’t see. I’m wrapped in something. Kicking. Screaming.

I’m dumped on a hard surface. I hear a latch snap shut….A lock…

The black-and-white vision clears as a cover is pulled from my eyes. I’m lying on a rough wooden floor. Women in long skirts and caps surround me. They’re staring at my body. I look down at myself. I am naked. My stomach is swollen and hard.

“The girl has been consorting with the devil,” one of them says. She has thin lips and sharp eyes. She stands alone, blocking the door. “It is the task of this committee to seek out his mark. And then the devil’s concubine and his seed will be destroyed.”

The vision becomes blurry as the women converge. I’m thrown down on a long wooden table. They poke and prod me, lifting my arms and peeling apart my legs. Their hands twist and pinch and pull every inch of me. Then, they roll me over while they pull at my hair, my scalp, and pry at my bottom.

“She has no marks, missus,” one of them says.

“Then the devil has hidden it, and we look until we find it,” the thin-lipped woman snaps.

A long silver needle—long like the ones my mother used to knit with—slices the periphery, ominously distorted by the black-and-white lens as it crosses my field of vision and comes to rest in front of me. I stop thrashing, unable to see anything but the sharpened tip.

“The mark of the devil will not bleed.” She tests the point on her finger. The women lie across me as I thrash and scream. She pierces my skin, over and over, blood smearing as the women fight to hold me. With a scream, I kick the woman by my foot, hard on the side of her head, knocking her to the floor. Two women rush to help her. I swing my fists. My knee catches a nose and someone cries out. I roll from the table to my feet and bolt for the door. The thin-lipped woman stands in my way and I tackle her to the floor. Wrestle the needle from her hand. I push her cap off her head and grab a fistful of her hair, pulling her to her feet.

I press the point into the side of her neck.

Two of the women cower, injured on the floor. Two others hover over the one with a broken nose. My arms are smeared with blood. I back out the door, dragging the thin-lipped woman with me.

“I will curse every last one of you! If you harm my child, you will suffer a witch’s wrath for all eternity!”

I throw the thin-lipped woman to the ground. Then I run for the shelter of the trees.

Tori woke with a start the next morning. Her right arm tingled where she’d been sleeping on it. She took a moment to get her bearings, shook the pins and needles from her hand, and checked the time on her phone. It was early, but at least it wasn’t a school day. She sent a text to Magda. Whose side are you on?

The silence in the moments that followed seemed to drag on indefinitely.

Tori set the phone on her nightstand. She should have expected this. Tori wasn’t only asking Magda to choose between her or the Slaughters. She was asking Magda to choose between Tori and Magda’s dad. And suddenly, Tori regretted being so tough on—

Yours.

A spark of hope dared to flicker inside her. Tori picked up her phone.

Then help me? Please?

Another long silence. Longer this time. And Tori wondered if she was asking too much.

Drew and I will be there in an hour.

An hour later, Nathaniel and Tori waited in the trees at the bottom of Tori’s driveway. Tori adjusted Nathaniel’s turtleneck to cover his scar. A feverlike flush replaced the pallor he’d worn when he first came out of the ground, and the shadow of a beard bloomed around his jaw. She looked up into a pair of tired, soft gray-green eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her. She’d spent the last half hour trying to figure out how to prepare him for this—for the things he was about to see that would make no sense to him, and things he might not even believe. But it was all too much. It was impossible to cram three hundred years into thirty minutes, so instead, she reminded him that no matter what he saw, he shouldn’t react. Shouldn’t gape. Shouldn’t ask any questions until they were alone, when she promised she would do her best to explain it all.

Drew pulled his Mazda to the side of the gravel road, and Tori took Nathaniel’s hand, checking for other cars before walking him out of the trees. When they were close enough for the exhaust to warm their legs, Tori snuck a glance at Nathaniel. He didn’t so much as flinch, but Tori could feel the shift in his posture, the sudden rigidity of his hand in hers. It was warm. Warmer than last night when they’d danced.

“He’s hot,” Drew mouthed through the window. It took Tori a moment to register what he meant as she opened the back door to let him in.

Magda twisted in her seat, extending a hand to Nathaniel. “I’m Magda and this is Drew. We are so excited to finally meet you. Tori hasn’t told us nearly enough about you!”

“Which is probably for the best,” Tori muttered. She still wasn’t sure she had forgiven Magda. And Tori wasn’t ready to trust her with something as big as Nathaniel’s story. Not until she knew how it connected with her own.

Drew put the car in gear and pulled onto the road. Nathaniel’s knuckles turned white on the armrest and Tori put her hand on his with a light squeeze as a reminder. He gave a barely perceptible nod of his head.

Magda softened her voice, turning to Tori. “I really am sorry. I didn’t know my dad was taking Alistair’s case until it was too late.” Her eyes welled, her apology tumbling out on shaky breaths. “And by then, I was too ashamed to tell you.”

“Well, I’m glad we got all this out in the open so we can put this little shit-storm behind us,” Drew said. “This whole thing is ridiculous! You can’t evict someone from their own house.”

Tori knew better. Her family had been through it before. It had started the same way, with a letter, a ticking clock in an envelope, counting down the days until their home would be taken away. “You can if you can prove they don’t legally own it,” she said. “Alistair’s trying to prove his father wasn’t competent when the will was drawn.”

“Tell her, Magda,” Drew said without taking his eyes from the road. “Tell her that’s never going to happen.”

Magda turned, but not far enough to look Tori in the eyes. “I’m sure everything will work itself out.”

Nathaniel’s hand tensed under Tori’s. “The Slaughters, they’re trying to take your home. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tori didn’t answer, hoping he would let it go.

“They’re the worst kind of people,” he said under his breath. “Ruled by selfishness and greed.”

The words cut deep, leaving a lingering sting and making her feel ugly inside. Tori fingered the oyster shell under her sweater. “Maybe not all of them.”

All three of them turned to look at her. They looked like they weren’t really sure who she was anymore. For that matter, neither was she.

Drew pulled into the drop-off lane in front of the senior center. “We’re going to get some coffee. We won’t be far. Text us when you’re ready for a ride home.” He hesitated before pulling away from the curb. Magda wore a grave expression as she waved good-bye.

“Come on,” Tori said, turning for the door. “Maybe we can figure out what one of us is doing here.”

Tori rapped softly on the door to Matilda Rice’s room and pushed it open.

“Mrs. Rice?” She poked her head inside. Matilda sat in a recliner beside the bed, the handle of her cane curled in one arthritic hand and an old bible resting in her lap. She looked up, poised to stand. But then her milky-white eyes locked on the doorway behind Tori and she slumped back in her chair, her jaw slack with surprise.

“You was right, Emmeline,” she whispered. “All this time, you was right.”

The hair on Tori’s neck stood on end. Tori pulled Nathaniel inside and shut the door. He approached Matilda slowly, as if trying to place her.

“Come closer, boy.” She rested her cane on her lap and reached out to him. Her arm shook with involuntary tremors. Nathaniel knelt beside her. Matilda took him firmly by the jaw, her gnarled fingers digging into his skin as her other hand reached for the collar of his turtleneck.

He tried to stumble out of her grip. “What are you after?”

She fixed him with her cloudy eyes. Something he saw inside them made Nathaniel hold still. She pulled back the neck of his shirt, running her fingers over the mark around his throat. A cold breeze stirred the curtains.

“Nathaniel Bishop.” She drew his name out slowly, clucking her tongue against her remaining teeth. “I’ve been waiting for you. ’Bout damn time.”

“How do you know my name?” he asked, straightening his collar and rising to his feet.

“Emmeline’s been talking about you since I was a child. Before that, she talked to my momma. Before that, she talked to her momma. Emmeline’s been driving my family crazy since she passed on back in the 1730s. And frankly, I’m tired of listening. Tired of dragging her ’round with me just to spare my daughter from having to hear it too. ’Bout damn time.” She shook her head and gestured to an empty chair. “You know why you’re here, boy?”

“Emmeline,” he said.

Matilda nodded.

“So the stories are true. She escaped Slaughter’s people.” He pulled the chair in front of her and eased down into it, letting go of some invisible burden. “And what of the child?”

“Emmeline’s baby girl? Don’t know much about her except that she lived long enough to start a family of her own. Emmeline and her friend, Ruth. They ran that night. After Slaughter hanged you, the fires started.” The mention of a fire tickled at Tori’s memory. The dream she had of the night Nathaniel had died. As Matilda told Nathaniel the story, the dream began to unwind like a movie in Tori’s mind. And she could see it all, as though she had been there.

“Everything burned,” Matilda said, gazing off across the room. “The house, the barns, the fields. Everything but that damned tree burned to the ground. The fire never touched it. Never touched you,” she said, looking at Nathaniel. “And everyone was so busy running around, trying to put out the fire, no one noticed that Emmeline, Ruth, and Sam were already gone. Took what they could and ran. Crossed the river and built a camp in the woods. Later, they met up with a few other runaways. Took ’em in and made ’em all family. Changed all their names and gave ’em all new papers. Emmeline got real good at forging papers. Somehow, they all made do.” Matilda sighed. “Emmeline figures Slaughter’s people were too afraid to go looking real hard for her. She figures they were all just glad she was gone.”

Nathaniel’s face was haunted as he bore the news of losing them all over again. And Tori hated it…the guilt she knew he was feeling. The pain of being alive when your reason for living is gone.

“How did this happen? Why isn’t Nathaniel dead?” she asked.

Matilda blinked, turning to look at Tori as if she was only just realizing Tori was in the room. “Because Emmeline saved him.”

“Because Emmeline cursed me,” Nathaniel scoffed.

“Not you, boy,” Matilda said. “She cursed that tree.”

“I don’t understand,” Tori said, but Matilda’s attention was fixed on Nathaniel.

“She magicked that tree to take care of you. To keep you from rottin’. To give back the life it took from you. That tree ain’t bloomed in three hundred years. Because it’s been giving all its life to you.” She pointed a finger at Nathaniel. “Like it or not, that tree is part of you now.”

“But why?” Nathaniel shot to his feet, pacing the room.

“Because she loved you.”

Nathaniel’s whole body stilled. “Then why…” His voice broke on the words. “Why bring me back? To what end?”

“Because you made a promise, boy. A promise you gotta keep.”

Nathaniel sunk into his chair and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“What promise?” Tori asked.

“You ain’t got much time, boy,” Matilda said. “That Slaughter boy got curious and started diggin’ around. Won’t be long before the rest of ’em start doin’ the same. And if they find what’s hidin’ under that tree, then you’re in danger, boy. You both are.”

“Wait,” Tori said, stepping between them. “What do you mean?”

Matilda didn’t answer. Nathaniel got up and began pacing the room.

“What does she mean, you don’t have much time? Time for what?”

“She means I’m dying,” Nathaniel snapped.

Tori sat down on the edge of the bed, any arguments left inside her knotting into a tight ball inside her throat. Nathaniel squeezed his eyes shut and whispered an apology.

Dying…It shouldn’t have surprised her. Inside, she must have known….The change in his color, the shade of his eyes, the change in his blood…It all had to mean something. But it didn’t seem fair that it should mean this.

“I don’t understand. If the tree is supposed to protect him, why isn’t he healing anymore?”

“Because he ain’t under it,” Matilda said matter-of-factly. “And the longer he stays up here, the less time he’s got left.”

“Then what’s the point? Why bother saving him if he’s only going to die anyway?”

Matilda shook her head. “Honey, we’re all gonna die someday. Ain’t a spell gonna stop that. We all just got to use the time we got in this world to do what we’re meant to do. We were all meant to do something. Just got to figure out what it is. But you already know, don’t you, boy?”

Matilda fell quiet, her head tipped toward Nathaniel. Nathaniel pulled the small wooden figurine from his pocket and held it, his thumb gentle as it moved over the doll’s belly.

“She saved me because I wasn’t the only one she intended to protect.”

Matilda reached for him. “That magic Emmeline made for you before you died…she did it because she cared for you, because she knew her child was gonna need you. And you made her a promise—her and that child.

“That spell she cast on you…it came from in here,” she said, pressing her gnarled hand against his chest. Then to his forehead. “Not from in here. She knew you were gonna die, and she was angry, and young, and scared. And without thinkin’ it all the way through, she did the only thing she could to save you. She cast that spell hoping you would come back. That if she did it right, you might rise up on your own. Only she was careless and somethin’ went wrong.”

Nathaniel shut his eyes. He closed his hand around the doll and pressed it to his lips, as if he was searching inside himself for some way to forgive her.

“After Slaughter hanged you, Emmeline went into a rage. She lost her mind and put a curse on every one of his people. Not just one generation. She cursed ’em all. Every generation of Slaughter to come. And without realizing, she tangled you and that tree all up in it. It wasn’t no protective spell that brought you back. It was—”

“Dark magic.” Nathaniel and Matilda turned to stare at Tori. “That’s what you told me. I remember. I know the curse. I heard it. In a dream.” Black and white flashes of it came back to her in a rush. “‘Warned be the wicked who would harm those bound to me. Should the blood of Slaughter spill the blood of mine own, the tree will bear witness against him. Tragedy will befall him, suffering and fire. And my curse will not quiet until Slaughter blood is shed.’” Nathaniel stared at the floor, dumbstruck, taking it all in.

“So that’s it?” Nathaniel rose to his feet, pacing the room. “This is the reason I’m here? To fulfill her curse on Slaughter’s people? To shed their blood and end it all? No, there has to be another way.”

“Only one way,” Matilda said. “Might be Emmeline’s blood brought you here. But only Slaughter’s can send you back.” Matilda’s milk-white eyes slid to Tori, and Nathaniel froze.

“Send who back? Back where?” Tori demanded.

“No.” Nathaniel shook his head at Matilda. “I won’t go back.”

“Back under the bosom of that tree,” Matilda said.

Nathaniel set his jaw, looking as livid as he’d been the day he’d tried to cut the oak down. “And what if there is no tree?”

A cold wind stirred, rustling the curtains. The blinds rattled against the window glass, and the flower vase on Matilda’s night table tipped and fell to the floor, shattering like an exclamation. All three of them fell silent, watching the water spread across the floor.

“If there is no tree…” Matilda said, turning to Nathaniel. “Then there is no boy.”

Nathaniel took Tori’s arm and pushed her abruptly toward the door.

“Wait!” Tori argued. “I have questions.”

“We should go.”

“But I don’t understand—” The door shut behind them. Nathaniel walked fast, eating the length of the hall with long, angry strides, pulling Tori along with him until they were outside on the sidewalk.

“What does she mean, it was Emmeline’s blood that brought you back? If Emmeline’s been dead for three hundred years, there’s no way she could have…” Tori reached for the bandage, touching it through her sweatshirt.

She’d cut herself.

In the cemetery.

She’d bled on the ground. Right before Nathaniel climbed out of it.

“This is why,” she whispered, trying to make sense of her racing thoughts. “This is what brought you out of the cemetery. My blood. It’s Emmeline’s, and…”

Nathaniel sank back against the brick wall and pressed his palms into his eyes. “I sacrificed everything, everything to protect her. Because I swore that I would. I gave my life to save her and Slaughter’s bastard child. And this is how she repays me. With sap in my veins and a life that withers come winter.”

“Slaughter’s child? But I thought…” The words stuck in Tori’s throat.

The girl has been consorting with the devil.

Nathaniel wasn’t the father of Emmeline’s child. The child was Archibald Slaughter’s.

“You thought what?” Nathaniel rose, his head tipped curiously toward her. “You thought Em and I…?”

Suddenly, her circumstances made a perfect twisted sort of sense.

It was supposed to be a seven-year contract….We were to have ten acres each plus provisions….

Emmeline was entitled to land. To property she and Nathaniel had been promised, property they had earned. Al Senior must have discovered the truth, that Tori was Emmeline and Archibald’s descendant. He’d honored his family’s broken contract with his own will, and never told them why, and the land had never left the family.

Nathaniel reached for her.

“Don’t,” Tori said. She didn’t know how to be with him now. Who she would be to him now that they both knew who she was. It was as if Matilda Rice had opened a door to a pitch-dark room and shoved Tori inside. And now she was stuck in this place—this place she had always imagined being filled with light and answers—and she couldn’t feel her way through it. Just an hour ago, she’d wanted desperately to know where she’d come from. How she’d gotten here. And now? “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Nathaniel took her by the shoulders, lowering his head to look at her until his eyes were all she could see. “If you believe nothing else right now, believe this.” He gripped her tightly, making her look at him, making her hear. “You are Victoria Burns. And nothing that happens to you—nothing they do or say to try to make you believe you are anyone else—will ever change that. You are the same person you were before this place. You are the same person you will be when it’s over. And you are a better person than all of them.” He brushed a tear from her cheek, and Tori rushed to wipe it away herself. She took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “There’s something I want you to see.”