Page 79 of Ghost Walk
Grace smiled at him, knowing they’d just won.
Robert reached for her, intent on causing as much pain as possible. Before he could make contact, though, she slammed her palm down onto one of the blood stains, whichlooked a heck of a lot like a thumbprint. Her hand fisted around the fabric, holding tight.
And just like that she was free.
It was really kinda awesome and a total victory for the white hats. All around her, the basement disappeared and she was catapulted into the past. There was nothing Robert could do to stop her. Nothing at all. She and Jamie had just swept the field or whatever the hell pirates did when they totally kicked ass.
Grace gave an exultant laugh. Victory was soooo sweet!
Her elated feeling lasted right up until the moment she and the shawl landed in 1789… just in time for the witch trial.
Chapter Sixteen
June 27, 1789- Clara Vance was jabbering on about those fortunetelling Riveras again and how the Reverend wanted to run them out of town. It was all I could do not to tell her that her sainted father and I have explored the wages of sin behind his pulpit, just to see the look on her face. I only allowed him to touch me, because I knew it would justkillMother and Father if they ever learned of it, of course. Still, I was surprised at how enjoyable it was! For a man who preaches against wickedness, the good Reverend surely does engage in some deliciously twisted activities.
From the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth
Jamie hated killing people.
Usually, he tried to avoid it at all costs. It seemed that July 4th1789 was the day he was about to break his own rules, though. He was mad enough to shoot every single citizen of Harrisonburg without a flicker of remorse.
No onetouched his woman.
“Am I theonlyone who understands that this is the Age of Enlightenment?” Grace’s voice rang out above the angry shouts of the crowd. “You can’tdothis! There’s no such thing as witches! You’re supposed to know that by now!”
“Quiet, witch!” Clara Vance screeched with all the zealotry in her shriveled soul. “We all saw you vanish into the ether last Wednesday. You disappeared, right from this very spot, and now you returned…”
“Because this stupid tree is bad luck.” Grace interrupted and Jamie could tell she was pointing up at the gnarled oak that loomed over the street like a tombstone. Forsome reason, it had always given him a chill to look at it. “I’m sure of it. I can’t wait until that lightning strike burns it down.”
Clara kept talking, pretending she didn’t hear Grace’s complaints. “…And now you’ve returned to our righteous town to spread your poison. Do you think the good citizens of Harrisonburg will allow that? No! We willstopyou right now, Devil Woman!”
Dozens of voices shouted their agreement.
“We’ll stop you, Devil!” Gregory Maxwell echoed.
Anabel’s brother never had an original thought in his head, so he made do with paraphrasing the idiots around him. The man was literally and unequivocally the stupidest man in town. It was no wonder Lucinda had laughed uproariously at all his attempts to call on her. She would have been better off with an orangutan as a suitor. At least their primitive ideas were their own.
“You morons will lynch anyone who stands still long enough!” Grace yelled back at him.
Gregory frowned, puzzled by her words. He was puzzled over a neighborly greeting of “How do you do?” though, so it was no surprise that Grace’s bizarre future-isms had him perplexed.
“You won’t ruin our Independence Day celebration!” Clara sounded jubilant now. Bolstered by the mob’s support, she was basking in the glow of finally being the center of attention. “We will stop you, Satan Spawn!”
The crowd cheered.
Clara beamed out at them from her position on the bed of a hay wagon. She’d climbed up there to be seen and she was getting her wish. For a moment, Jamie thought she might take a little bow.
“You know what? If therewerewitches in this world, they would have totally cured Methyn’s Syndrome!” Grace informed the mass of nitwits gathered to kill her. “Which I’msurewas a terrible, horrible, skin melting-ish disease. So you guys should bethankingthem.”
“She’s threatening to melt our skin!” Clara shrieked. “You all heard her!”
Gregory jammed a fist in the air. “Skin melting!” He bellowed, with no deeper meaning. The man had the attention span of a hyperactive puppy, so it was a wonder he hadn’t gone chasing after a leaf in the breeze by now.
Eugenia Wentworth staggered backwards, fanning herself like she was about to faint again. “Oh mercy! Skin melting! Someone do something!”
“We have to burn her!” Clara’s frenzy was reaching its crescendo. “We have to burn hernow!”
“Burn her!” Gregory screamed and --stupid or not-- half the crowd was with him.
