"I'm okay," he said.

His breath caught as Sinjin cinched the knot tightly around his chest. His vision had cleared from the punch but it felt like it was going to be a goose egg on his temple in the morning.

If they survived the night, which didn't look likely.

"I'm sorry I got you involved in all this."

"How could you know about this, Martin? You were just a kid. And Barclay had just as much reason to come after me as you. If you hadn't been involved, he would have come for me right away instead of playing cat and mouse."

"I can't help but feel we'd have been better off if we'd stood our ground," he said.

She looked out over the angry faces in the crowd. "Something tells me we're not going to get a fair trial here."

Ethel tapped her cane three times on the ground beneath her feet. A reverent hush fell over the crowd.

"In olden times, people were prosecuted for practicing witchcraft," the old woman proclaimed. "During the so-called Salem Witch Trials, thirteen women and seven men were found guilty and executed."

"Do it!" a man cried.

"Kill the bastards!" a woman shouted.

Sheila thought she recognized the boisterous voice as one of the women from the St. Johns's house the night the baby was murdered. Rather than anger her, she felt sad. The Chadrach had held these poor people hostage for generations. She wondered what might have become of them if not for their evil influence, if not for their charms and glammers.

"Now, now," Ethel said calmly. "The good reverend was right about one thing. We mustn't punish them without first hearing their confession."

"There's nothing to confess!" Sheila cried. "If anyone should be confessing it's you two!"

The crowd booed. A crushed beer can hit her in the chest and clattered at her feet.

"Settle down now, people," Mavis said. "You'll have plenty of time to throw things after they've confessed!" Her eyes gleamed as a smile crossed her lips. "Perhaps we'll make this an old-fashioned stoning!"

The crowd cheered. They were agitated. Eyes wild. Fists clenched. Dangerously close to frenzy. The atmosphere was electric, like the air before a storm. Martin felt like all it would take to get the crowd to beat them both to death with anything close at hand was a single word from Ethel or Mavis.

"What exactly are we being accused of?" he asked, directing the question at the Midwives but projecting his voice the way he would at a book signing, so everyone in the crowd could hear.

The streetlamp above them glinted on Ethel's sunglasses as she turned. "Murder," she said.

"Murder?" Sheila jerked against the ropes pinning her to the statue. "I didn't kill that girl! You did!"

"So you say," Mavis said. "Sadly, any proof is buried in the old church yard."

"Then dig her up! If you can prove it, let's see her remains."

"And desecrate a child's grave? Surely you can't be suggesting that!"