Page 124 of Executing Malice
I’m saved when he puts out a hand for me to take. “Come on, little demon. Show me Jefferson.”
Relieved for the distraction, I hurry over and accept his long fingers.
We take my car.
Dante isn’t happy with the decision, but he’s already pissed off enough of the town and I want people to be in an accepting mood when I introduce him.
With my hand nestled in his, I start the tour at the heart of Jefferson. The very spot it all began in 1812 when Elias Ferguson planted his flag and named the land Jefferson after his late grandfather.
“As the town expanded, he and his family rebuilt their home over along Silver Pines and the town erected the bell tower,” I tell Dante as we stand beneath the stone monument and peer up at the bronze bell mounted at its highest window. “It usually only gets rung during death and weddings.”
There’s a very good chance that he already knows all this. He’s been in town for a while. He must have driven past the tower at least once.
But he doesn’t interrupt. He follows along next to me, listening attentively while I go into the history of Jefferson. I don’t know it as well as most of the people who were born and raised here, but I pay attention. I ask questions and I’ve read the tourist guidebook City Hall issues to newcomers.
I take Dante along the main vein. Past the bank and Maisie’s in the direction of City Hall. All around us, tiny witches, pirates and superheroes plunge through leaves and chase each other with plastic swords. Their shrieks and giggles twine with the soft breeze toying through my hair. Storefronts glow with fairy lights. Front steps are lined with grinning Jack o’ lanterns, candles flickering behind carved teeth. Plastic bats dangle from display windows, and perch upside down from doorways, their glass eyes watching us stroll by.
“We don’t celebrate Halloween,” I tell Dante as we step aside for two fairies to scramble past in their colorful tutus, glittery wings shimmering at their backs. “By name,” I add with a chuckle. “The town calls it the Autumn Festival, but it’s basically Halloween.”
“What’s wrong with Halloween?” he asks, crouching down to pick up a fallen wand and passing it back to one of the fairies.
“Demons.” I grin when he lifts an eyebrow. My excitement bubbles as I realize I get to be the one to tell him the story. “Oh, you don’t know yet! It’s so good. Okay, so,” I clap my hands together once to warm up. “There’s this story that goes back to the 1800s, back to when the town was still growing, a group of women emerged from seemingly nowhere and built a home deep in the Red Hollow Woods. Theykept to themselves, wanted nothing from the townspeople, but had a way with plants and herbs that the townspeople didn’t. Of course, as you know, women who don’t want to conform to society and have no need for men are clearly witches.”
Dante nods solemnly but with a glint in his eyes. “Clearly.”
We resume our stroll to the black gates of City Hall.
“Well, for years, this relationship continued where the women were called to help with giving birth and check on the sick. In thanks, the people would give them what they could. Chickens. Eggs. Fabric. That kind of thing. They kind of found a balance with the town. In return, the only thing the women wanted was to be left alone.”
“Monsters,” Dante mutters.
I chuckle. “Right? But here’s the thing. So, there was an outbreak in 1819. All the kids got horribly sick. Some even died.”
“And they blamed the women,” he finishes, lips turned down in displeasure.
“No, believe it or not. They blamed Hetty Grodman. One of their own. The women in the woods did everything they could go save the children, but Hetty, her husband, who, was a fur trader, died shortly after returning from a long journey. Around the same time, she also lost her baby.”
I wait for him to connect the dots, but he continues to frown at the sidewalk.
“The townspeople believed she killed their children out of grief and jealousy by making a pact with the devil.”
Dante’s head jerks up. “Stop it.”
Thrilled by his reaction, I nod excitedly. “So, they decide the only way to save their children was to kill her and break the connection. Of course, the historical society claim the people only wanted to exile her,” I roll my eyes, “Bullshit, I say. Jefferson, today, is wildly religious. I can only imagine the actual state of it back in 1819 when this happened. Anyway, one of the wood women overhears plans to ...removeHetty and goes to save her. They bring Hetty to the woods with them and give her security and shelter.”
Dante groans and rubs a hand over his face. “This can’t end well.”
I give a little hop. “Sure doesn’t.”
He casts me a wary side-eye. “You’re way to excited about this.”
I grin up at him, body swaying side to side. “This is one of my favorite stories.”
“Weirdo.” He plants a kiss on my nose. “Let’s hear the rest.”
“Well, the townspeople find out that the women in the woods are harboring the one person whose death could save theirchildren. They are furious. They decide, as a community, to confront these women.”
“With torches and pitchforks, no doubt,” he grumbles.
