Upon its construction in the early 1900s, Camp Naumkeag was established as a place for recovering tuberculosis patients. An elaborate open air pavilion and wide open spaces provided a pleasant and healthier backdrop for patients suffering from infectious diseases. As the ancient buildings fell into disrepair the city of Salem came to a crossroads, unsure of how to preserve the area’s historical significance without tearing it all down.
How little could the city of Salem have known that it would be the location of a landmark summit, a gathering of witches from across the country and across the globe, all coming together to recognize the new leader of the Darkheart Coven. I’d been forbidden to attend the event, seeing as how I wasn’t a witch, but I leaned next to the Chevy Malibu and watched the clean up afterwards. Several witches and their male compatriots tore down rows of chairs, the elaborate, dark wood podium and lowered large tents into folded fabric.
By all accounts, the summit had been a resounding success, the leaders of various covens meeting with a dedicated purpose— to come to an agreement about how to treat each other and how to reach some sort of tentative peace, even with the loss of long-time matriarch Nadella Montague. Nadella was Loren’s mother and the longtime queen of the Darkheart Coven and had steered that ship through especially rocky waters, all the way back into the sixteen and seventeen hundreds. Her death had shifted the landscape, and the relentless attacks Loren had suffered since had weakened the image of the coven to a point where others were encroaching.
Rather than fight back, Loren had reached out— suggesting to the other covens that they all meet to air their grievances— neutral ground, as it were, at the Salem historical area several miles away from Darkheart Manor itself.
I’d parked the Malibu in a lot at the top of a slope of green grass overlooking the pavilion and surrounding tents, watching the hustle and bustle of activity. The gathered covens were dispersing, some by limousine caravans, other by more subtle transportation, though the end result was a scattered mixture of Darkheart family and staff.
“How long have you been here?”
I turned away from the bustling activity down slope and eyed Loren, who strode toward me, walking across the parking lot. Beyond her I saw a gravel road which had sloped up from the grass below, a trek she’d apparently hiked up without me noticing. She was dressed in neatly pressed slacks and a silk purple shirt, though she’d removed her heels and had walked the gravel barefoot. Her dark hair was tossed back and tied off, her ponytail lingering along the crest of her left shoulder blade. In the bright, late afternoon sun she could have been an angel slowly descending from the heavens. A blessing in human form.
“Long enough.”
“Thank you for keeping your distance. The last thing I need is an Enforcer stirring up controversy at the same time that I’m trying to squash it.”
“Am I controversial?”
“More than I think you realize, Gus.” She stepped toward me and took up position beside me, leaning against the car as I was, both of us looking down the grassy hill. “You did a great deal for the Darkheart Coven in those early days, but as time has gone on, the reputation of the Caretakers, and those who represent them, have— taken a hit.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m not wild about the Caretakers these days either.”
“The covens have very long memories, Gus. What happened in the last hundred years doesn’t carry as much weight as what happened in the previous four hundred.”
“I get it.”
We stood and leaned against the car for a few quiet moments, watching the clean-up continue throughout the camp.
“I’m sorry,” Loren finally said, her voice little more than a whisper.
“Sorry? For what?”
“For not being there for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“At the docks. I told you I would help, but I didn’t.”
“Way I heard it, you didn’t have much choice in that. That was a council call, not yours.”
Loren didn’t reply, she just ran her fingers through her thick, dark hair and refused to meet my eyes.
“You thought I was dead.”
“I did.” I paused, unsure of what to say next. “It very nearly broke me.”
She expelled a breath of air, her eyes closed. “I don’t know if I can do this, Gus. I put on a brave face, I stepped up to avoid civil war, but— I don’t know if I’m up for this whole leadership thing.”
“That’s exactly why you are up for it. You recognize how hard it is— you take it seriously. Believe it or not, that’s not a common viewpoint from those in positions of power. Trust me, I know.” I glanced in her direction and saw the emotion on her face, her lips pinched between her teeth, her fingers clasped together in front of her. I wanted to reach out, to put my arm around her, to do something to comfort her. But we were in full view of the covens below and I knew any hint of a connection between us would be viewed poorly by her peers.
“How did things go? At the summit? You haven’t given much in the way of details.”
“They went— very well. The other coven leaders were impressed by how I embraced my position. How I left my more human existence to support the coven. They were equally impressed that I didn’t shrink down from the threat of assassination. That my efforts helped bring down Lucas Androse.”
I smirked but said nothing.
“I can see that smile on your face, Gus.”
“These covens that seem to find me so controversial— do they know my role in that whole thing?”
“Of course they do. It has earned you a measure of street cred.”
“Just a measure?”
“Just a measure.”
“I guess I’ll take what I can get.”
There was another gap in the conversation as a soft breeze blew through the trees at our backs, the long grass waving gently with the wind. For the first time in a very long time I felt a sense of peace. A distinct lack of foreboding as if something terrible was waiting just around the corner.
“You should join me for dinner next week,” Loren said, again not looking at me. “Maybe if we gradually sprinkle you in small doses—”
“You’re talking about me like I’m chili powder or something.”
Her brow furrowed. “Spicy, bitter and often found with a burrito— I can see it.”
“One of these days you’re going to compliment me and I won’t know how to take it.”
“This is not one of those days.”
“You’re on, by the way. For dinner, I mean. Just say when.”
“I’ll have my people call your people.”
“I guess I’m going to have to acquire some people, then.”
Loren laughed softly and it might have been the best sound I’d ever heard.
“I still owe you some lessons, too.”
Recalling my sense of utter hopelessness when I’d found myself without my knives in hand, I nodded, almost too eagerly.
“Absolutely. There was a moment when I was in captivity— when Androse had me in a cage. I wasn’t sure what to do. I have all this power at my fingertips, but without my knives, I’m, like nothing at all.”
“You’re not nothing.”
“Okay, see I’m going to consider that a compliment.”
“Take it how you will.”
I let my fingers brush the hilt of the shield knife tucked into the sheath at my hip. With both Firestarter and Christine missing and with Joyland broken, The Stand was my default weapon of choice. I made a mental note to do another inventory of my murder room when I got back to the apartment and decide what other blade should become a part of my everyday carry.
“I’m sorry, too, by the way,” I said, my tone shifting.
“For?”
“Leander. Your four Handmaidens. You may not have made the trip yourself, but you still paid a terrible price. You and your coven.”
Loren’s head lowered and her eyes pinched even more tightly closed. I could tell she was desperately holding back tears.
“Even though it was a council decision, I’ve lived with that loss every single minute of every single hour. Leander died because of me— she died for me. I’m not sure that’s something I’ll ever heal from.”
“Another sign that you’re the right person for this job, Loren.”
“I guess. There are times I wish I could rewind a few months and go back to my happy life of blessed ignorance.”
“Do you regret it? Coming back to Boston, I mean?”
“Not even for a second.”
I tried to hold back my smile.
“Not because of you, I assure you.” She glanced sideways at me, the corner of her mouth tilting upward.
“Thanks for keeping me grounded.”
“Someone has to.”
I lost track of how long we stood at the crest of that hill, looking down over her people as they dismantled the site of the coven peace summit. Eventually, she thanked me for coming and for helping, gently touched my hand with hers, then walked back toward the gravel path, her bare feet padding along the grass.
Then she was gone.