against the wall, balance precarious as she lifted her arms to the
ceiling beams and laughed. Even through the glass, her cackle was
a mad thing, twisted discordant notes, rising above the sound of
the music. She shook violently, and Minnie realized she may have
been sobbing. She felt suddenly shamed to be witness to this, and
her eyes fixed on the witch’s pale, slender feet, toes curled around
a rung. Minnie’s gaze followed the twining length up to where the
witch’s braid was wrapped around her neck.
Not her braid, she realized.
“No!” Minnie screamed as the woman jumped off the ladder
and snapped at the end of the rope.
In the Périgord Noir,
France, 1915
six
A
HIGH, KEENING SCREAM, MORE ANIMAL THAN HUMAN,
HUNG ON THE AIR. Until she had to gasp for breath, Cora
did not know the sound was coming from her own
mouth.
The break in her scream signaled the end of the horrified
trance the five companions were under. Thomas let out a string of
oaths, while Minnie and Charles collapsed into each other. Arthur
simply stared.
“We’ve got to help her!” Cora stood, wanting to look away
from the gently swinging body of the witch. The song was still
going, bright syncopated rhythms jarring with the slow death
dance.
Cora looked down, breaking her fingernails against the bot-
tom of the window frame. There was a door, somewhere, but the
window was their portal to this horror, and she had to get through