I turn to the last page of my grandmother’s research notebook. “Nothing new in this one, either,” I say to Elijah, who has a stack of diaries in front of him from historical collections and people’s attics.
“Research is not instantaneous and must be built piece by piece. Quick does not mean good. That perspective will impair your perception. You will miss something.”
Easier said than done when my dad’s life is at risk. “What about Mrs. Meriwether? She knew my grandmother really well. Better than anyone. Maybe there’s something that my grandmother didn’t write down? Something that Mrs. Meriwether knows?”
“Possibly. However, speaking with her will only yield results if you are direct.”
“Were you listening when I went to her house the other day?”
He looks disapproving. Great. That means he heard me with Jaxon. How embarrassing. I’m already awkward enough without some attractive dead dude overhearing everything I say. I may never toot again.
I flip through a journal I’ve already read to see if there’s something I missed. “Do you think my grandmother’s drawings could be of any significance? They’re in the margins, and she doesn’t say anything specific about them.”
“Perhaps. Let me see.”
I hand the notebook to Elijah.
He studies it, and his brow furrows. “Are there more?”
“Yes, but they’re all similar versions of a woman with long wavy hair seen from behind.”
He turns the pages of the notebook. “None that show a face?”
“No, why?”
“You should ask Mrs. Meriwether.”
“Is there something strange about it?”
“It is better to ask too many questions than not enough.”
I agree, but I think he might be omitting some detail. “Okay. I’m gonna go over there.”
He nods, and continues reading. I pull my hair up into a ponytail as I make my way through the passage. When I enter the library, the light outside is already dimming. I need to find the Descendants once the sun goes down.
“Well, there you are. Where’ve you been all day?” Vivian asks as I walk to the side door.
“Here.”
“I looked for you earlier and couldn’t find you.”
I did hear her calling, but had no desire to answer. “Must’ve been on a walk.”
She looks unsure. “Must have.”
“I’m going next door.”
“Okay.” She checks her gold watch. “Just be back by seven for dinner. I’ve ordered a ridiculous amount of French food.”
“Oh.” The word catches in my throat. An image of a younger Vivian snapping that picture at the Parisian café flashes through my mind. Since my dad and I met her, French cuisine has been a bonding food for the three of us, something that is just ours. We always have it on special nights, like when my dad comes home from a long trip, or for the first snowfall in winter.
“I know you were sad about not seeing your dad today. I thought this might cheer you up. And we can have our chat. You might faint when you see how many desserts I got.”
It’s painful to watch her be nice after seeing that bill this morning. “Gotta go,” I say, swallowing my sadness.
I walk out the door and make my way to Mrs. Meriwether’s porch, struggling to push Vivian out of my mind. I raise my hand to knock, but Jaxon steps out of the door.
“Hey. I didn’t think you were home. I came over earlier, but no one answered.”
“Really? I guess I didn’t hear the door. Is your mom here?”
“And here I got excited you were looking for me.”
I smile. “I wanted to ask her about some of my grandmother’s things I found.”
“I’m going to see her. She’s at the Remembrance Day Fair down at Salem Common. Her bakery has a booth. Come with me.”
“I don’t know.” I look at the barely visible sun. I need to find the Descendants.
“Sam, it’s your first fall in Salem. The fair won’t come around again for another year.”
“Uh…I was supposed to maybe do something with Susannah.”
“She’s down there. She showed up right before I ran home to grab twine for my mom’s pastry boxes. Come on. The whole town is there. It’s fun.”
I relax slightly. This saves me from going to the Descendants’ houses. Who knows what their parents think of me after last night. “Let’s do it.”
Jaxon and I head down the sidewalk. “If you’re nice to me, I might even give you one of my mom’s famous funnel cakes.”
“And if you’re nice to me, I’ll refrain from giving you that zombie rash again.”
We share an amused look. “Glad you got your sense of humor back instead of all that doom and gloom.”
I still think that doom and gloom stuff. It’s just not fair to unload it on Jaxon.
“You’re pretty cute for a witch.”
He’s joking, but it hits too close to the weird stuff I’ve been doing recently. “Do you think there’s any way that rash could be witchcraft?”
Jaxon laughs. “Definitely. Strong theory. Right up there with fairies and ghosts.”
Worst answer ever. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but why would Lizzie say your mom was crazy?”
Jaxon’s jaw tenses. “My mom had a rough patch after my father died. She got really depressed, and for a while she’d still talk to him. She didn’t care who overheard. There were other things, too. But the gist of it is that people in town thought she’d lost it. They even stopped going to her bakery for a bit. It took a couple of years to get everything back in order. We almost lost the house. And Lizzie sort of instigated those rumors. She wasn’t a fan of your grandmother, either.”
I’m getting the sense not many people were. “Wow, Jaxon. I don’t know what to say.” No wonder Jaxon’s so nice even though the school hates me. He knows what it feels like to have awful rumors spread about his family. “I could kill Lizzie for saying that to you.”
His grin returns. “Don’t let me stand in your way.”
We approach the edge of Salem Common, a large park in the center of town packed with people and lights. Music plays, and the air is thick with the aroma of carnival food. There’s the distinct roar of excited conversation.
Jaxon leads me through the crowd to his mother’s booth. “Hey, Mom. Look who I found on our porch. She was coming to talk to you.”
“Oh, Samantha! What a wonderful surprise. Have a funnel cake.”
I don’t resist as she hands me a plate of delicious fried dough covered with powdered sugar.
“Mom, you just killed my whole strategy.”
She looks from one of us to the other. “Samantha’s no fool. You’ll have to do better than bargaining my funnel cakes, Jaxon.” I laugh. She knows him so well. “Now, my darling girl, what did you want to see me about?”
She reads the hesitation on my face. “Jaxon, make yourself useful and help out in the booth while Samantha and I have a word.”
Jaxon walks toward the booth, and I wipe the powdered sugar from my shirt before I begin. “I know this is a weird question. But I was going through my grandmother’s things and I noticed that she had drawings in her notebooks of a woman with dark wavy hair. Does that mean anything to you?”
Mrs. Meriwether’s cheer fades. “Charlotte had a lot of nightmares, poor thing. Especially near the end. This woman was in most of them. She never saw her face, but she used to call her ‘the crow woman’ because there were always crows with her.”
I stop mid-bite. There was a crow in my dream this morning.
“She thought the woman was somehow connected to the Mather curse. Which I suspect you know all about, since you are reading Charlotte’s journals.” She raises her eyebrows.
She just saved me from my next awkward question. “Do you believe there is a curse?”
Mrs. Meriwether purses her lips. “I don’t know. But Charlotte did. She never figured out what it all meant, though. And Charlotte was very special to me, as I’ve said before. Sometimes you do things because you believe in a person, and not because you believe in everything they do.”
I guess the whole idea of a curse is a bit out there. I’m just glad my grandmother had Mrs. Meriwether. “That makes sense. Thanks.”
“Anytime. Now I imagine you’ll want to enjoy this lovely fair. Jaxon!”
Jaxon doesn’t need to be called twice. He hurries back. “Find out what you needed to know?”
I nod. Jaxon pulls me into the crowd. Could there be a connection between my dream and the crow woman? I want to ask Elijah. I scan the crowd for the Descendants, but no luck. I get a few nasty looks, though.
“Basketball?” Jaxon asks as we approach one of those carnival games where you need to make a basket in a hoop that is one inch wider than the ball itself.
An older woman is walking next to us, holding her husband’s arm. “I just have a bad feeling about it. There have been too many accidents and deaths recently. It’s not natural,” she says. They continue walking and are drowned out by carnival noise.
“Can we find Susannah first?” I ask, feeling even more urgency than I did before.
“Sam, unless there’s some pressing issue, I’m going to insist that you have some fun.”
I need an angle fast if I’m not going to explain myself.
“Archery?” I ask as we approach targets lined up against hay bales.
“Abso-friggin-lutely.”
We stop at one of the stations and wait for the guy with the bows. “There’s one condition,” I say, hoping I don’t regret this. “If I win, you help me find Susannah. If I lose, you choose the next game.”
“Deal.” His grin widens. When it doesn’t disappear after a second, I get uncomfortable.
“What?”
“You have powdered sugar on your face.”
“What! Why didn’t you tell me?”
He grabs my hand before I can wipe it off. “Leave it.”
“Are you nuts? I’m not leaving powdered sugar on my face.”
“I think it’s cute.”
“Well, it’s not.” I’m trying to sound annoyed, but fail.
He leans in and kisses the sugar off of me. My skin turns warm where his lips were.
“Are you trying to distract me so I don’t beat you at archery?” I ask.
He lands a kiss on my lips, and all the sensors in my body go off at once.
“Nothing like young love and arrows,” says the robust man with a full beard holding out our two bows.
We back away from each other, and I’m positive I’m beet red.
He chuckles. “How many arrows would ya like?”
“Three each,” I say.
I pull out my wallet and give him the money. Jaxon opens his mouth to protest as we grab our bows. “My challenge, my treat.”
“Have ya shot a bow before?” the man asks.
“Nope,” says Jaxon, and I shake my head. Good. At least my chances of winning are fair. There was no way I was going to beat him at that basketball game.
“Ya grip the bow here. Straight arm, solid hold. Put yer arrow in at the notch. Then ya pull back the string all the way to yer chin. Don’t pinch the arrow, ’cause it won’t go nowhere ya want it to. Got that?” We nod. He looses one arrow, and it hits a small x on the wall behind the target.
“Thanks,” Jaxon says, and the man steps back.
“You go first,” I say.
Jaxon approaches the short hay barricade and stands in the position the bearded man demonstrated. He lets one arrow go, and it hits the bottom ring of the target. His second hits the same area but slightly to the left. The third lands securely in the small ring around the bull’s-eye. Crapola.
“Looks like I’ll be choosing the next game,” Jaxon says. “I’m thinkin’ pie-eating contest.”
“Shut it.” I step up to the barricade. My first try, I pinch the arrow. And to my intense disappointment, it wobbles to the ground two feet in front of the target. Jaxon chuckles. Thankfully, my second one lands nicely in the middle ring.
“Nervous?” I ask.
“Not even a little.”
I take aim, and my arm shakes. As I release my last arrow, Elijah appears, and it goes right through his body. I scream and stumble backward into Jaxon. He wraps his arms around me, and the instructor takes my bow.
Jaxon squeezes me. “I have to admit that was one of the more dramatic approaches I’ve seen, but considering you just made a bull’s-eye, I can’t say much. In fact, I think I got conned.”
My heart rate slows as I realize that I won and everything is alright. What was that, a joke? Elijah looks too pleased for it to be accidental. Dark friggin’ humor. He’s dead, but come on. I suddenly become very conscious that Jaxon’s arm is around me, and I break contact. I shouldn’t care if Elijah sees that. The thought tugs at me uncomfortably.
Before I can gloat about my win, Susannah, Mary, and Alice walk up.
“Let’s go,” says Alice. I couldn’t be happier to see her.
Jaxon’s smile disappears. “Nice attitude.”
“I don’t have time for small talk.”
I hate to agree, but Alice is right, even though her attitude sucks. I turn toward Jaxon. He’s about to respond, but I put my hand on his chest. “It’s okay. I’ll give you a call later.”
“I don’t get you, Sam. Why are you jumping to Alice’s commands?”
“Because she’s less of an idiot than most people,” Alice says.
“Believe it or not,” I say to Jaxon, “I think that was a compliment.”
Jaxon shakes his head. “What could be so important?”
“I just gotta go.” I walk toward the Descendants.
He looks disappointed. “You say that a lot.”
Before I can tell him I’m sorry, Mary grabs my arm and pulls me into the crowd. “We gotta move. My parents only agreed to let me out for a few hours.”
“And we lost a damn half hour going to your house looking for you. No one figured you’d come out into public,” Alice continues as we approach the edge of the Common.
“Is everyone really blaming me for that rash?”
Susannah nods. “I told the police it wasn’t your fault, but there are a lot of rumors.” I hope Lizzie didn’t come down on her too hard last night.
Alice pulls out Mary’s keys and unlocks the Jeep. “And the irony of this situation is that people are calling you a witch. I bet Cotton’s rolling in his grave.”
I would laugh, but the whole thing sucks. “Did you guys find anything that might explain what happened?”
“Alice’s house was a wreck. But nothing out of the ordinary. If you ask me, it was a spell,” says Mary. “The way it came and went so fast was eerie.”
“Bull. Who do you know who could make a spell that strong?” Alice demands.
“Well, Lizzie—”
“No.” Alice swerves around a car and my stomach drops.
I don’t like the idea that someone could wave a wand and everyone gets a rash. Feels too unpredictable. Speaking of which, where’s Elijah? “Wait, so Lizzie can or can’t do magic?”
“Well,” Susannah says, “it’s not that she can’t. We’re all a little inclined. But I, personally, think it was the curse that caused it.”
It’s not comforting to know there’s someone out to get you who has an inclination toward magic. “If it was the curse, then why didn’t I get the rash?”
“That’s the part we can’t figure out,” says Mary.
Susannah pinches her bottom lip between her fingers. “We will, though.”
I know I’m lucky they’re talking to me at all, but something about this Lizzie thing gnaws at me. “Why aren’t Lizzie and John with you guys?”
“Because Lizzie—” Mary starts.
“Hates you,” Alice cuts her off.
Susannah turns toward me in the backseat. “Lizzie thinks you’re responsible for certain things that have been going wrong in Salem. She links them to your arrival.”
“And she’s dating John, so there’s that,” Mary chimes in.
Well, Lizzie’s not wrong, exactly. And I’m not surprised they’re dating. I could have figured that out myself if I wasn’t so preoccupied with the curse and my dad. “That’s why she’s been following me?”
“Enough,” Alice says, and Susannah breaks eye contact.
“Did something happen I don’t know about?”
Alice jerks us to a halt in the Walgreens parking lot. “That rash wasn’t enough for you?”
Seeing the dark trees, and remembering that dream I had, makes me sick. “You know what I meant,” I say.
Mary hands me a hooded cape and I put it on.