When the Black Roses Grow (16 page)

“You are only making the situation worse.” I wiggled from his arm. Tears streamed down my cheeks.

“How?”

“They do not believe you could love me without me casting a spell upon you. They believe I hoodwinked you as revenge against Mary and the Pruett family.”

“Then, I shall inform them of their erroneous beliefs.” His fingertips brushed the tears from my cheeks, then traced my jaw. “How could anyone not love you after spending a mere second with you?”

No matter how I had longed to hear such words whispered from his lips, they tugged my heart in two different directions—elated beyond words, and yet, devastated. To hath love within my grasp, only to hath it ripped from my arms.

My arms that, now, outstretched through the iron bars of a prison chamber I would never leave until the day they dragged me to my death.

“We will never exist in the life I dream about. I doubt they will listen.”

“I will force them to listen.”

“James, you cannot risk yourself. You cannot risk Willow. They fear since fever is rampant there are witches among us, and they would not hesitate to condemn her and sentence her to death if they discovered her.”

For the first time, his gaze dropped. Sorrow and loss wounded him as he fought the words sitting on the tip of his tongue. He faced a death and a strife that he only wished to ignore.

My heart skipped a beat.

“No. No, she did not. No.”

“She passed this morning. I came to tell you when I happened upon the scene in front of the courthouse this afternoon.”

“I am so sorry.”

He returned my gaze with a fierce honesty in his eyes, one I had yet to see, and one that stole my breath. “Emmalynn, I promise you, I will resolve this mess. I promise you.”

Footsteps crunched through the rocks outside and the sound filtered in through the windows. I covered my mouth as James focused his attention toward the door.

The footsteps vanished.

“You should leave before anyone catches you here.”

“No one will find me.”

“Please, James. I cannot bear the thought of thy arrest.”

An argument of refusal flickered in his eyes, but he conceded to my concern. “All right. But, please take this bread.” James withdrew a few tiny rolls wrapped in a rag from one of his pockets. “I do not know if and when they will feed you. I will return in the morning after I speak with Sheriff Corwin.”

“It will not—”

“Yes, it will. I can be quite persuasive when I wish to be.” With his words, he yanked off his traveling robe and shoved the thick material through the bars. “This will help keep you warm.”

“Please, keep thyself safe.”

“I will.” He kissed me one last time, before he quietly disappeared through the door.

SIXTEEN

Unable to sleep, I huddled in the corner of my chamber wrapped in James’s traveling robe. Each hour that passed, the hollow void of darkness faded as the sun began to rise and light glinted through the window—a reprieve from the shadows, and yet, the dawn of another day of uncertain events.

“Only the daft believe one can argue for someone’s innocence.” Rebecca peered through two of her bars. A look of sadness plagued her, and yet, her tone whispered a hint of malice. “Spoken from one who knows, James cannot oppose Reverend Perris or Sheriff Corwin.”

“I cannot prevent him from trying.”

“But, you know I speak the truth.” She heaved a deep sigh. “Never again will our souls revel in the liberty of life, the liberty of the sun shining down upon us. No longer will we awake to birds chirping through a window, or feel a gentle summer breeze blow through our curls.”

I gave her a fleeting glance then folded my arms across my chest. “I will miss more than birds chirping and summer breezes.”

“And, what will you miss.” Her tone mocked with a hint of spite. “The arms of a man you cannot hath because he belongs to another.”

“He doth not belong to another.”

“If you wish to believe that.” Her shoes scuffed along the dirt as she paced her cell. Her bitterness seethed through her clenched jaw. “I played such a fool once, too. And, do you know what happened? All of the nights we shared, all of the love and happiness we left . . . now, the father of the baby growing in my belly, lies in a shallow grave amongst the condemned.”

“My apolo—”

“I do not need thy apologies.” Tears streamed down her face. “I need thy distraction. Tell me a story. Tell me an untruth if thee must. Tell me anything to keep me from going mad in my own mind.”

“A New England Autumn.” I spun around to face her with a half-smile across my lips. “With all the colors of red, orange, brown, and the deep maroon, so rich in color one would think they were dreaming. That is what I will miss.”

Gratitude glinted through her eyes and she inhaled a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I always preferred the spring and planting my garden.”

“Fresh, warm baked bread.”

“A hearty stew or an occasional goblet of wine.” For the first time a smile spread across her lips. “One time, John—” As she silenced her thought, her smile vanished. “I suppose . . . I suppose I shall see him again, soon.”

“He wished for you to know that he loved you.”

She covered her mouth with her hand as she nodded. Tears streamed down her cheeks once more, and with one swift movement, she spun away from me and curled up on the floor next to the wall.

A weight lay heavy upon my chest—the weight of suppression and the weight of death, both mocking me within an inch of my sanity. The walls closed in upon me as I glanced toward the window.

The black velvet sky began to change into a dull gray that lightened before my eyes. Soon the yellow and orange would drown out the colorless dreary sky, or perhaps, pink and purple with a hint of blue as the sun rose from its slumber, bringing warmness, and yet, sadness all at the same time.

Was this how my mother felt? Were these the last thoughts in her mind as she sat in this very spot? The unspoken emotions she surely hid from me, but such did not surprise me. Why would any mother wish for their children to face their pain? They would not, and neither did she.

Always the calm presence as I cried, screamed, and ranted through her conviction and death. She smiled and held my hands through the iron bars as she spoke her soft words of comfort, that until this very moment, I never truly heard. Listening through ears when thy heart is full of pain cannot compare to listening through ears when thy heart is full of fear.

Stay strong, my dear, and stay brave. You are loved by me and you are loved by God. Hold on to Him—let Him into thy soul to guide you when you need Him the most.

Her ghostly words echoed and I exhaled all breath from my lungs as I closed my eyes.

Hold on to Him.

The door of the prison flew open with such a force it slammed into the outside wall and shook the dirt from the ceiling. Along with all the other women in their chambers, I flinched and clutched my throat to stifle a scream.

Dust particles floated all around as Sheriff Corwin strode down the hallway dragging a thick, black mess of rope behind him. The anger in his thunderous stomps reverberated through the walls and all the women cringed and cried out in fear as he passed them. They all hid in the corners with their arms wrapped around one another or themselves.

I retreated away from the bars as Sheriff Corwin drew nearer and nearer with every stride. Step after step, I backed away until my back hit the wall, and I pressed my body close against it.

Sheriff Corwin twisted a brass key in my chamber’s lock and stepped inside, dragging the blackened mess behind him.

“Do you wish to explain this?” He heaved the ropes at my feet.

Only, they were not ropes.

As the vine brushed against my legs, my lungs gasped for breath. Speechless, my eyes traced every inch. Although, slightly withered, the black roses still bloomed perfectly, and the leaves, now as black as the roses, danced with the movement before settling down and lying flat against the stem of the vine.

Different than when I had severed the stem before.

“I do not—”

“Do not speak untruths to me.” Sheriff Corwin paced in front of me. His voice boomed and more dust particles fell from the ceiling. His eyes locked upon me, twitching.

“’Tis a weed that grew in my home through a hole in my floor.”

“That is not a weed.”

“I do not know . . . I assumed it was a weed. It appeared out of nowhere. I cut it several times, and planned to hath it plucked by the roots—”

“It did not hath roots.”

“I do not know—”

He lunged forward and wrapped his cold fingers around my neck as he pressed me against the wall. “Do not speak untruths to me, you witch.”

Pain spread through the back of my head and his fingers tightened around my neck.

Hatred flickered through his eyes as his spittle hit my face, and he growled under his breath. “To think, I wondered if you were innocent angers me even more. The first of thy kind to hath such evil command of the mind, I suppose. No witch has ever made me question my thoughts toward them, and for a second you played me for a fool. Well, I shall play the fool no longer.”

“I am not a witch, and I do not know what the plant is.”

“You act as though I would believe you now.”

He released my neck and retreated away from me. Deputy Thomas, who followed behind Sheriff Corwin, perched with his hands poised to grab me should I offer any resistance.

I remained pressed into the wall, unable to move even if I wanted to—the fear overpowered me too much. I glanced at the darkened vine lying motionless on the floor. The old friend turned enemy, now haunted me more than it had in the confines of my home.

Sheriff Corwin paced in the chamber as he rubbed his temples with his fingertips. Back and forth, back and forth, he either muttered words I could not hear, or growled under his breath.

I stared at the crevices in the floor. Thought evaded my mind. Air evaded my lungs, barely able to breathe through the tailspin happening around me. Sickness swirled in my stomach, toying with the notion to retch what little bread James had given to me hours ago.

The door flung open once more, slamming again into the outside wall again as Reverend Perris strode across the threshold with Deacon Pruett in tow.

Unable to control myself another second, my knees and hands hit the floor and I lost the bread from my stomach.

Sheriff Corwin leaped backward toward the chamber door while Deputy Thomas lunged forward to protect him. Reverend Perris charged down the hallway toward us as he waved his Bible in his hand.

“What did she do? What happened?”

“’Tis nothing, men.” Sheriff Corwin waved off Deputy Thomas’s protective stance and Reverend Perris’s worried tone.

“What lies upon the floor?” Reverend Perris pointed to the vine.

“Black magic.” Sheriff Corwin snorted with an amused profound level of arrogance, as though he captured and restrained the devil himself. “I found it in the witch’s home.” He pointed toward me.

I rose to my feet and once again pressed my body to the wall of the chamber.

Reverend Perris glared at me and an evil smile spread across his lips. The moment he had waited for, for who knows how long. The moment that hath licked at his deepest desires and spread through his bones, the very evil he swore others possessed. He now had me on the cusp as death waited for me with open arms. His ultimate revenge, even though he claimed he never sought any for himself.

“I told you she was a witch.” Deacon Pruett raised his Bible into the air just as Reverend Perris had, and pointed it at me. “We should not waste time or a trial on this vile creature. She should burn at the stake for the sins she has committed.”

With Deacon Pruett’s words, the vine slithered across the ground and twisted in upon itself. The once black stem lightened into a healthy shade of green, along with the leaves, and yet the roses remained black. Large sharp thorns sprouted from the vine as it glided along the floor toward me.

“She summoned it.” Reverend Perris’s shouted words were barely audible over my own screams that echoed and deafened my ears. “We must destroy her or she will destroy us all.”

The vine continued to slither across the floor, encircling me in a half moon shape as it attached to the walls and grew toward the ceiling to form a fortress around me. I dropped to my knees and shielded my face as I screamed over and over again.

“Wield thy knives! Wield thy knives and sever it.”

As Sheriff Corwin commanded the men, the vine grew around me, so thick it blinded my vision to everything except for the stem, leaves, and black roses.

It shut out the world with the thick, sharp thorns that sprouted. Their length far too intimidating to consider touching. The vine hardened, almost solidifying, and yet, when my arm brushed it, only softness swept across my skin. I cringed as tears streamed down my face.

“Just sever it, we need to seize her. We need to seize her now.”

Knives slashed the vine. It recoiled slightly with every swipe, then burst, growing thicker stems as if to fight against the men. Flashes of silver cut through the green as the knife blades slashed and carved through the plant; a battle waged by determined captors who gained headway as a hole appeared in the mesh of vines. One blade’s swipe caught the sleeve of my dress, slicing the material and grazing my arm. Terror overshadowed my pain as blood trickled from the shallow wound.

The vine’s hole at my elbow grew wider. A hand slipped through and wrapped tight around my arm. With several hard yanks, my captor ripped me from the plant’s confinement—the sharp thorns vanished from the stem with my touch.

“Come here, Witch.” Sheriff Corwin restrained my arms as I struggled.

Other vines sprouted, and wrapped themselves around my arms and legs to draw me back into the protection of the fortress. Reverend Perris slashed at them, as Deputy Thomas apprehended me and heaved me out of the chamber.

“’Tis her protection. Do not allow her near it.”

Deputy Thomas obeyed the sheriff’s command and dragged me down the hallway. Horrified screams echoed from the women left inside as everyone fled the building—so certain the vine of black magic would harm them.

As I lay in the dirt, Sheriff Corwin shackled my arms and legs in chains. The cold iron dug into my skin with the clicks of the locks and pain spread through my wrists and ankles.

“You will not escape from us, Witch.” He released my chained limbs and a smile spread across his lips. He hath claimed victory over the devil, capturing the employed soul. Another damned, condemned under his watchful eye. Another witch hunted. Another triumph to boast about to the townsfolk of Salem.

I drew my legs to my chest as I lay on the ground, curled up. Tears streamed down my cheeks and I sobbed and stuttered through my words as I repeated them. “I . . . am not . . . a . . . witch.”

“We cannot risk a trial or any time wasted with this witch on the loose. She has too much power.” Reverend Perris’s lungs heaved from the strain of his fight.

“Reverend Perris is right,” agreed Deacon Pruett.

Sheriff Corwin glanced between the two men and me, and repeated the pattern—his own lungs heaved from his struggle. He grabbed my dress and jerked me to my feet.

My legs wobbled under my weight as I stood there.

“Townspeople expect a trial. The magistrate expects a trial.”

“Blast what the townspeople think.” Deacon Pruitt’s boots scuffed through the dirt and kicked up puffs of dust that tickled my nose as he strode around me. “We hath enough evidence against her to prove that a trial is not required.”

“I do not want to agree, but I am afraid I must. Summon the townspeople. We need as many as we can to witness.” Sheriff Corwin ran his hands through his hair and motioned to Deputy Thomas. “Fetch the wagon. We shall escort her to Gallow Hills.”

Reverend Perris hesitated, clicking his tongue while he tapped his index finger against his temple. “With all due respect, Sheriff, she has demonstrated far too much capability for a simple hanging. Fire is the only way to rid the earth of her wickedness.”

“I beg thy pardon, Reverend, did . . . did you say fire?” With his eyes wide, the sheriff stumbled over a few words.

“The devil writhes in her with hatred and supremacy. If we do not burn her at the stake, we will all suffer and die by his wrath. She will not depart from this earth by the noose. She will only depart from this earth by fire.”