Page 80 of She Haunts Me Still
It’s like Rebecca knew her efforts were futile, because she also wrote to Jacob directly. Mallory pulls that letter out now, skimming Rebecca’s elegant cursive. Despite the dainty penmanship, Rebecca’s tone shifts in this note, growing less formal, more threatening.
I know what you’re hiding.If you go through with this, I will see to it that your sinister truths are exposed, so everyone can learn what kind of man they’ve been looking up to.
Mallory reads it a few times, shaking her head. “What happened to you, Rebecca?” she whispers. She starts to tuck the letters away when another piece of paper catches her eye, one she didn’t notice earlier. Curious, she unfolds it.
“ ‘Dear Catherine,’ ” Mallory mutters, squinting at the new name.
She reads the letter quickly, registering it as another request for assistance. But this inquiry is different from the others. Mallory glances at the date and immediately understands—in this letter, Rebecca isn’t asking for help in stopping the exhumation.
She’s trying to protect Lily’s soul because it’s already been done.
I understand you value your privacy on the island,Rebecca wrote.I can assure you, if you help, no one will know of your involvement. The word “witchcraft” will never be used. You will remain safe, and you’d have my undying gratitude.
“Island?” Mallory murmurs, turning the paper. There’s no address anywhere.Witchcraft?
Her thoughts whirl, landing on the slice of history that’s been baked into every Rhode Islander’s brain since elementary school. The way the state was founded on religious freedom. The way the witch trials of the seventeenth century never reached their sliver of New England.
The way some people believerealwitches escaped to the islands around Narragansett Bay, where they knew they’d be protected.
Mallory leaps to her feet, shoving the letters into her bag, ready to find Saskia. But before she can move, Hendrix appears in the doorway, script tucked beneath his arm.
She bristles at the sight of him, embarrassed over how many times she calledlineat rehearsal. But it was impossible to concentrate while Ezra was staring from just a few feet away, not to mention her fever threatening to return despite the medicine she’d taken. She presses her fingers to her forehead now, finding it laced with sweat.
“Got a moment to come to my office, Ms. Webb?” Hendrix asks.
She clocks his serious expression, darting a glance at herwatch, and forces a nod, trailing Hendrix toward the faculty wing.
“I know I’ve been tough on you at rehearsals,” Hendrix says as they reach his office, “but I’ve got to tell you—I have some real concerns.”
He shuts the door, sealing them in the small space. Mallory chews her lip and sits across from his mahogany desk.
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” he starts, settling into his chair, “there’s the ongoing issue of your lines. But I had a little chat with our stage manager, Paisley, today. She came to me because the storage vault beneath the trapdoor reeked of smoke the other morning. Know anything about that?”
Mallory tenses as she thinks about Ezra’s candles. “No.”
“Hmm.” Hendrix leans back, chair squeaking. “How ’bout the prop loft? The one that’s been roped off since the start of the year due to an unsafe ladder? Been spending any time up there after hours?”
“No,” she says—and this time it’s the truth. “I swear, I haven’t.”
“Funny,” Hendrix says, “because I was working late last night and heard footsteps. Shuffling back and forth. Took a peek this morning and found this. Mean anything to you?”
He reaches into his desk to hand Mallory a heart-shaped piece of wood. The wider end has two wheels attached, while the pointed tip bears a small hole, and as she strokes her fingers over it, a noticeable frost chills her bones.
It’s a writing planchette, like those used in old séances.
And as she turns it over, she suddenly realizes why Hendrix thinks it’s hers.
The entire backside has one word carved into it over and over.
JULES JULES JULES JULES—
Mallory grits her teeth.Ezra. War, she remembers. This is war.
“Look, Webb,” Hendrix says with a sigh. “I don’t know what it is you’ve been getting into after rehearsals, and I’m not going to ask. But I’ll tell you right now that you’re going to stop using the theater as your personal hideout. If I find you’ve been anywhere near this building after hours, I’m taking it straight to Dean Hale and I’ll let him decide what to do. Are we clear?”
Mallory forces a nod, still staring at the etches of Ezra’s secret name for her.
