“Do you remember that oak tree outside the boarding house on Brady Street? You always snuck out to climb it when Mum was away. Each time I watched you swing from the old, gnarled, branches, I panicked, my heart creeping into my throat. I stood and watched you, even when you thought you were alone. I was terrified that you would fall, that in a quick second I’d lose my baby sister…So I stood there, ready to save you…But you didn’t need me, did you? I don’t think you ever did.”
~From the diary of William Wells; February 20th, 1685
~*~
The survivor whipped around at her sudden shriek, his long cloak billowing behind him.
“Who’s that, now? Show yourself!” he exclaimed.
The accent was odd—one she’d heard before. You ougtta mind where you’re walking, girl... Of course it was him! She simply didn’t see him clearly before under the cloak and scarf. So the town gossip must be true—William Wells was evil, a magician, a murderer. Surely that must be the reason he’d captivated her before; perhaps he could work a sort of charm. And now she’d seen him kill a man; it must’ve been a man. Most likely the body was merely hidden in the underbrush, its disappearance a trick of the moonlight. Panicked, Elizabeth found herself alone in the woods with a lunatic. Her only hope was to flee, so she ran. She ran as fast as she possibly could, her chest burning with adrenaline as she stumbled over stray roots and pebbles. The more ground she covered, the more she sensed him gaining on her.
“Oi wait a minute!” he cried.
“Help me!” Elizabeth screamed, “Please, someone help me—“
Mid-shriek, the air knocked right out of her and she found herself lying sprawled on the earth, weeds scratching her face. She couldn’t move, could hardly even breathe. He had her pinned on her stomach; and his powerful hands grasped her wrists, making it impossible for her to struggle.
“Hurting me—please,” she gasped in desperation.
“Aright listen here, Miss. I don’t wanna hurt you. If you promise not to start the wailing again, I’ll let you up. And then you can go right back to jolly ole Uncle Nathan after we have ourselves a lil chat. Agreed?”
“Yes…please.”
The second she felt his weight ease off her, Elizabeth swiftly flipped onto her back, kneed him in the groin, and staggered to her feet. He sucked in his breath and doubled over, taken completely off guard by her show of strength. After a brief smirk at her own victory, she flew toward the house.
“Uncle! There’s a murderer on your property! Reverend, help me!”
Before she could elaborate her pleas, William’s hand suddenly clasped over her mouth. Flailing her fists blindly, she struggled against him. She tried to sink her teeth into his palm, but bit through her own lip instead. Blood flowed into her mouth and trickled down her throat.
“See now I’m ticked off. This coulda been simple, really, but you had to go and make it difficult.”
In one fluid motion, he swept her up over his shoulder and sprinted back into the woods. Elizabeth clawed at his back frantically, but soon lost her endurance as she became dizzied from watching the ground fly beneath her. When he at last flipped her upright, her legs sagged under her body while the world spun circles. She couldn’t fight any longer as he grabbed her around the waist and hefted her onto the back of a horse. Noticeably wincing in pain, he grunted as he placed one foot in the stirrup and swung himself up. He used one arm to hold her firmly against him while the other reached around to take the reigns.
“Come on, Sunshine, that’s my girl.”
The mare responded accordingly, beginning with a slow trot that gradually picked up to a full gallop. Despite her pain and terror, there was a thrill in this dreadful situation that Elizabeth could not fathom nor describe. Gooseflesh crept up her bare arms and legs and butterflies danced in her belly. Each time the mare came upon a patch of uneven ground, William tightened his grip across her ribcage to keep her from slipping in the saddle. She’d never been so close to any man—he was so close she could feel the heat of his breath against her neck, so close she could smell his scent of dirt and sweat and a muskiness that was all his own. As her back pressed against his chest, she suddenly became keenly aware of her own lack of clothing. The combination of panic, shame, and confusion she felt left her befuddled and frightened.
They traveled down a beaten, winding path and crossed a small stream that sent muddy water splashing onto her legs. The land soon became unrecognizable as they approached the distant hills, growing steeper as the ride became rougher. William kept his grasp firm as she jostled on her seat. Throughout the ride, she waited in anticipation for him to say something—to threaten her, to begin the “chat” he’d suggested earlier, but he instead maintained a stony silence.
“Where am I?” she spoke up finally, nearly shouting over the clop of the mare’s galloping hooves.
“This way through the forest was cleared by a tribe of natives called the Pequot. The land belonged to them before the founders of your settlement forced ‘em out,” he answered coldly.
“I meant where are you taking me?”
When he did not respond, she continued, fear creeping into her voice, “You realize my uncle will find me and have you arrested immediately. He has a great deal of power in this town—he’s high Reverend.”
“Your uncle. Right. Bloke’s no reverend.”
“He certainly is and—and I’m engaged to the mayor’s son! They shall all be searching for me come morning.”
“I guess you’re a lucky girl then, aren’t you princess?”
Elizabeth pursed her lips and fought the growing lump in her throat. She would not let him see her tears.
Just when the golden light of dawn began to kiss the starry night, the land flattened at a higher elevation. Clumps of trees became less dense, and abandoned weed-scattered fields dotted their new landscape. To the left of their path, Elizabeth spotted a cluster of stones, which she soon discovered were grave markers for the dead. The burying ground stretched on into the edge of a pine wood. Jagged stones and carved crosses caught the silver light of the setting moon, causing them to appear like dancing skeletons. A chill rushed through her.
After they crossed the brow of a slight hill, a small lake appeared; its surface motionless, black and glistening. Raven Pond, she realized. A nondescript wooden cabin stood in a cove beside the water. The mare seemed familiar with her surroundings and slowed to a halt naturally without prompt.
“Don’t move,” William instructed brusquely before jumping down.
He led the horse to a post with Elizabeth still in the saddle. When he’d finished tying and securing the animal, he offered his arms up to assist her.
“Come on then,” he said, “We’re here.”
“I do not need any help from you,” Elizabeth snapped as she awkwardly leapt to the ground.
She spread her arms in front of her as she stumbled a bit on the landing, and looking down, realized that her muddied garment had been rendered nearly translucent. Startled, she clutched her arms across her chest.
“Relax, princess. Nothing I ain’t seen before.”
“You’re swine. And do not call me that.”
“Have it your way, highness. Now would you like to step inside or freeze to death out here?” he gestured toward the cabin, “…Actually there’s not much choice in the matter. Either you follow me or I drag you.”
Anger soon clouded her fear as Elizabeth fell in step in front of him. She wanted to stay outside, wet and uncomfortable, just to spite him; but she knew her physical strength could not match his.
William snatched a match from the pocket of his cloak and lit a candle after they entered the dusty cabin. It was rustic, with only a small living space and a kettle and pot in one corner to indicate a cooking area. Stairs in the back of the room apparently led to a second floor loft.
“Home sweet home,” William declared sardonically.
“What are you going to do with me?”
He removed his cloak and placed it on a hook near the door. Injuries from the brawl were clearly noticeable; he had an ugly bruise on one cheek with swelling under the eye, and dried blood matted his hair line. She watched him with a wary eye, keeping her arms crossed protectively over her torso.
He ran his fingers through his dark curls, sighing, “At the moment I’m not quite sure.”
Reaching into a trunk behind the door, he pulled out a knitted blanket and offered it with an extended arm. When she didn’t budge, he rolled his eyes and tossed it to her. She gratefully covered herself.
“Right, well, I figure we should get some rest and discuss this matter in the morning—or later in the morning.”
“Are you—I will not—I am not resting anywhere near you.”
“Fine by me, pet,” he snorted, grasping a length of rope from the cloak’s outer pocket, “Sorry about this, but I got to tie you to be sure you’ll still be down here when I wake up.”
“No! Don’t you dare touch me!” Elizabeth cried, darting away into a corner.
He followed in suit, seized her wrists while she spat and clawed at him, and bound her hands tightly behind her back before shoving her into a chair.
“Please, loosen my wrists. It hurts.”
He glared at her icily for a moment, his posture resolute. But soon he dropped his eyes from her pleading gaze and released a shaking breath along with a whispered “bloody hell”. He nodded and reached behind her. She waited until he drew just close enough and bit him.
“Get your teeth outta my arm, you stupid bint,” he said through gritted teeth as he attempted to pry her off him.
During the struggle, Elizabeth managed to pull the knot loose enough to free one of her hands. Promptly, she punched William in the nose with all the effort she could muster and tried to make a run for the door. He recovered much sooner than she’d anticipated, however, and stunned her by slapping her across the face.
“That’s it, missy. I’m tyin’ you to the damn chair.”
Elizabeth finally gave in and complied miserably. When he’d finished restraining her, she felt the burn of tears flooding her eyes. He looked away, shifting his feet awkwardly.
“Look, I’m not gonna hurt you, though god knows I’d like to. I couldn’t risk it, do you understand? You screaming like that—I couldn’t take the risk that you’d run in to bloody town square, crying witch…can you understand at all? No, I guess you wouldn’t.”
At that moment, they both jumped when the front door flew open.
An older man wearing a patched tunic draped around his shoulders, his stature bent and weary, stepped into the cabin with tired nonchalance. When he turned his back to the door after fiddling with the lock, however, he gasped in alarm at the sight before him. He squinted and slid his spectacles up the bridge of his nose as if to ascertain that the absurd scene was not a figment of his imagination.
“What the bleeding hell is going on here?! William, why, pray tell, is there a woman tied to a chair in my living room?”
“She saw me fighting in the woods and started screaming, threatening to run off and tell. I had no choice.”
“Have you gone completely daft?...Oh dear god, is that Redding’s niece? Well that is just wonderful, is it not? After all we’ve been through, after we’ve made an agreement, you would go and deliberately risk the mission—“
“Please, I only wish to go home. Let me go! I’m sure we can reach an understanding. Anything you desire—if it is payment you seek—“ Elizabeth interrupted shrilly.
“No, we do not need your uncle’s money,” the older man said, “Oh child, I am terribly sorry. You must be so frightened.”
“I had to bring her, Rupert. If I hadn’t, we woulda ended up with a mob on our hands.”
“And we won’t now?! I think you’ve done quite enough, William. Go wash up, you’re a right bloody mess.”
William clenched his jaw and stormed upstairs.
The older man sighed heavily and removed his spectacles to clean them with a pocket handkerchief. “Please forgive him, if you can find it in your heart. He’s rash and full of passion, but he’s a good man.”
“You cannot keep me here.”
“I know that. We’re not going to keep you. It’s just—there are some matters that we must discuss before we can let you go. You deserve an explanation for what you saw, and for what we do here.”
“What, kill people?”
The man laughed grimly, “No, dear Miss Elizabeth. We save people. Or that is the intention. Our work is a bit more difficult now than it used to be.”
“How do you know who I am?”
“Your arrival was known to us. Nathaniel and I—we tend to keep up with one another. You may call me Giles, my surname, if you would like. Never much cared for Rupert.”
“I’ve heard things about you. People say that you’re some kind of sorcerer and that you’re forbidden to be seen in town.”
“I can tell that you are an intelligent young woman. Surely you know not to believe everything you hear.”
Giles pulled a stool beside Elizabeth’s chair and delicately removed the rope. He lifted her chin with warm, gentle fingers.
“You’re bleeding…may I?”
She ran her tongue over the gash in her lip, realizing she'd almost forgotten the injury. He raised his handkerchief questioningly, and she nodded, averting her eyes. While he cleaned the wound, she studied him curiously.
“Is he your son? Mr. William?” she asked.
“Heavens, no. We simply ended up together, you might say. But we’ve become family. There’s no one else.”
Elizabeth longed to inquire about the girl that supposedly once lived with them, but she turned to her other questions instead.
“Do you have some sort of relationship with my uncle? Whatever it is that you do—does he know about it?”
“That’s a long conversation for another time, my dear…There you are. The bleeding’s stopped I think, but you might have a bit of a nasty bruise. My goodness, you’re all covered in mud, aren’t you? I have some clothes that would fit, if you’d like. She was about your size.”
He crossed the room and opened the trunk behind the door. After briefly rummaging through its contents, he retrieved a long nightgown.
“If you need any other clothing, you’re welcome to take what you please. There’s an extra cot upstairs, so I can sleep in the loft with Will. And you may take my bed—it’s in the corner there behind the stairs. You’ll have your privacy.”
She took the gown and almost thanked him.
“She didn’t die from the fever, did she?”
He paused for a moment before ascending the stairs. “Try to get some rest.”
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