Chapters (76)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Also by Karen Brooks
- Title Page
- Dedication
- EXPLANATORY NOTE
- PART ONE
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- PART TWO
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- PART THREE
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- PART FOUR
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Epilogue: Autumn 1706
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- GLOSSARY
- LIST OF CHARACTERS
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
‘Aye, Mrs Laing did curse me.’ Peter’s voice was barely a whisper.
‘And what type of being is it that offers curses, Peter?’
‘A witch.’
The reverend took a deep breath, trying not to let triumph infuse his tone. ‘So, Peter, tell me. What does that make Mrs Laing?’
Peter raised hollow eyes. ‘A witch, sir. It makes her a witch.’
Patrick enveloped Peter’s hand with his own. ‘Exactly. She’s much more than a bad-tempered auld crone — she seeks to corrupt your soul. Force you to her will. She and the others. You’re not the type of lad to let yourself be forced by women, are you?’
‘Nae, sir,’ scorned Peter. He tried to sit up straight.
‘And, while you can likely defeat a spell cast by one witch, as we have seen, they rarely work alone. They stick together — there’s unnatural strength in their numbers. Once they choose a victim, they turn their wicked spells upon him and never leave him alone. They torment him forever and ever.’
Before Peter could pull his hand away, the reverend closed his other over the top, sealing it between his thin cool ones.
‘Do you want that to happen to you, Peter?’
Unable to speak, Peter’s eyes grew round. He yanked his hand out from between the reverend’s and grabbed at his throat.
‘Do you?’ insisted Patrick Cowper, compressing Peter’s other hand harder betwixt his own.
Peter tried to speak, but nothing came.
‘Ah, lad, it starts again.’ Dropping his hold, the reverend stood and went to the window, making a show of staring down upon the street. ‘They ken you’re speaking to me, and through me to God. You’re learning how to protect yourself and to prevent that, the witches have stolen your voice.’
He swung back to the bed. ‘Don’t let them win, Peter. They’re not your friends, they’re your foes. All of them are wicked, wicked women, every last one of them. One has only to hear what happened to Christian Shaw to see that. She endured for months, but she endured. Despite what they did to her, she triumphed over the devil. Do you remember what I just told you about that wee lassie?’
With both his hands now wrapped around his neck, his face turning red, Peter shook his head wildly.
Patrick tried to prise the lad’s hands away. When he couldn’t, he settled for resting his own over them. ‘I think I’d better tell you her story again. It’s a way of arming you lest this curse work further evil.’
He peered into the lad’s face, so close their noses almost touched.
‘Aye, reverend,’ said Peter, finding his voice at last. ‘I think you should too.’
‘Good lad.’
The reverend sank back into his chair and began to tell Peter exactly what the curse made Christian Shaw do, down to every last detail.
Thirteen
THIRTEEN
