The Book of Spells (Private 0.50)

Eliza nodded. There were so many thoughts swirling in her mind, she couldn’t make heads or tails of them all. The only thing she knew for sure was that Harrison shouldn’t be manipulated by Theresa Billings.

“Well, what are you going to do?” Catherine asked.

Eliza narrowed her eyes as Harrison pulled back to take a swing.

“I’m going to . . . race you back to Billings,” she said.

And before her words could even sink into Catherine’s mind, she’d turned around and started back along the path.

“No fair, Eliza Williams!” Catherine shouted after her.

But Eliza just laughed, feeling the wind in her hair, not even looking back when she heard the telltale crack of the bat.

Good Memories

“Eliza! Help me!”

Eliza woke with a start, her heart pounding in her throat. She clutched her blankets to her chest in terror and looked at Catherine’s bed. It was empty.

“Eliza! Eliza! Where are you?”

Eliza flung the covers aside and raced for the door. Sleep still clung to her eyes, blurring her vision.

“Help! Help me!”

Eliza threw the door open and stepped into the woods. The dark branches tangled and wove overhead, blocking out the sky and stars. The earth beneath Eliza’s feet was soft and wet, as if it had been recently soaked by a good rain. Mud seeped between her bare toes and coated her skin, and the piney scent of wet evergreen needles was all around her.

“Help! Eliza! Help!”

Eliza crashed through the underbrush ahead of her. Her pulse raced with fear, heating her from the inside as she shoved aside brambles and branches and tripped over fallen limbs. Catherine was out here somewhere, and Eliza had to find her. She had to find her now.

“Catherine! Where are you?”

“Eliza! I’m here! Please hurry!”

The voice seemed to be coming from somewhere in the dense trees to Eliza’s right. She turned and shoved her way through the bushes. Sticks and jagged rocks cut into the bare soles of her feet, but she forged on. There was no visible path, no clear route to take, but she was headed toward Catherine now. She was certain of it.

“Eliza! Where are you? Help me!”

Eliza paused. Now the voice was coming from behind her. She turned around, and a branch snapped against her face. She felt blood trickling down her cheek, but ignored the pain and doubled back the way she’d come.

“Catherine! I’m coming! Just hold on! Please, hold on!”

Eliza stumbled. She threw her hands out just in time to keep from breaking her forehead open on a jagged stone. When she pushed herself up, her breath caught in an inaudible scream. It wasn’t a jagged stone at all, but a bone. A human bone, broken and jutting at an angle from the ground.

“Eliza!”

Tearing her eyes from the awful sight in front of her, Eliza looked up. There was a clearing in the woods dead ahead. A clearing that hadn’t been there just moments ago. And there was Catherine, clad in her white nightgown, one arm held by Theresa Billings, the other by Helen Jennings. The two girls were shoving Catherine toward a gaping hole in the ground, their teeth gritted in concentrated effort.

“Catherine!” Eliza screamed, and the scream seemed to pierce her own heart.

She shoved herself off the ground and took a step forward, but the earth fell from under her feet and her toes came down atop a bare skull. She stopped in her tracks as the mud and gunk and fallen leaves melted away before her, leaving nothing but a broken, battered terrain of human bones. Empty eye sockets stared up at her. Jagged teeth caked with grime, finger bones, toe bones, shattered ribs—they all seemed to point up at her like a ghastly, accusatory jury.

“Eliza! Help!” Catherine screamed.

Theresa and Helen had Catherine right at the edge of the hole now—a hole that seemed to extend down, down, down forever.

“Theresa! Helen! No! Stop! Stop, please!” Eliza begged.