Page 106 of Enchanted to Meet You

Then she reached into the pocket of her jumpsuit, withdrewwhat appeared to be a letter, and climbed the stairs to the stage. Miraculously, when she reached the microphone and gave it a tap, it let out a sound. It might have been the only object left in the tent that was still electrified.

“Testing,” Esther said, leaning into the mic. “Can you hear me?”

“We hear you!” someone called from the back of the tent. I was fairly certain it was Gabby.

“Good,” Esther said, and unfolded the letter she’d drawn from her pocket. “My name is Esther Dodge, and I just wanted to say a few words.”

My mentee—the Bringer of Light—was about to give a speech.

I tensed, half expecting the demons I’d heard so much about to come swooping out from the darkness and attack her. At the very least, I thought Brewster would yell at Esther to get off the stage.

But he didn’t. Instead, I saw him lying there at the bottom of the steps, staring up at her with a look of horror on his face. At first I didn’t understand why.

Then Derrick staggered through the mud and broken glass to come stand by my side, and I saw him staring in the same direction. He wore a look of wonder, not horror.

When I looked back at Esther, I saw why.

The silver sequins on her jumpsuit had caught the reflection of the moonlight, and were casting a sparkling light show all around the tent. Like sunbeams dancing on the surface of water, the reflection of the sequins swayed across the walls of the tents, as dazzling as diamonds. Dozens of them, hundreds, they tilted dizzyingly around us, as disorienting as the glitter from a disco ball, but just as pleasing.

“I wrote to the mayor the other day,” Esther said. “And she was kind enough to write back. I’m holding the letter I receivedfrom her. Some of you may know that back in the sixteen hundreds, right here in America, a number of men and women were wrongfully accused of witchcraft. The very first witch trials in this country occurred here in Connecticut. Most of the records from those days have been lost, but we know for sure that nearly forty people were indicted, and eleven actually executed in a spot very close to where we’re standing now. I know that’s not as many as were accused and executed in other places, but none of those people deserved to die. And to me, that’s the real crime—the crime of persecuting someone for their supernatural beliefs, a crime for which people around the world even today continue to be accused, and to suffer and die. I believe the court systems should be held accountable for this.”

That’s when the reflections on the sides of the tent changed. Before they’d merely been round, like the sequins on Esther’s jumpsuit. The more she spoke, however, the brighter they grew—and the more distinctly identifiable in shape.

And that shape was... wolf. Dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands of shining gray wolves, all the wolves that had ever existed in West Harbor, back before they, like the witches, had been hunted to extinction—glowed all around us.

I caught my breath. I’d never seen anything more beautiful. I could tell Derrick felt the same way as he fumbled for my hand. I could see it in his eyes—the same silver as the wolves, and the light from the moon.

“I asked the mayor if there was some way she could clear the names of all of the poor people who were accused of witchcraft back in the early days of West Harbor,” Esther went on, seemingly unconscious of what was occurring all above and around her. “And she said that unfortunately, she didn’t have the authority. But she said that she would do all she could to help get my request to the right people. People who could help.”

The wolf-shaped lights began to shift and sway, like sunlight on the Sound, as if the pack was on the move—in celebration, or in thanks. It was hard to tell. All I knew was that I was in tears—but they were tears of joy.

“The wolves were never here to hurt us, were they?” I leaned close to whisper to Derrick. “They were here to protect us.”

He nodded. I saw that his eyes were looking damp, as well.

“Are demons always this beautiful?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. That’s because of Esther—and you.”

I smiled through my tears.

“All I want,” Esther continued, “is for the souls of all those wrongfully accused to be able to rest in peace. They did nothing criminal. And I intend to fight for them... and I hope some of you, at least, will join me in my fight.”

“I’ll join you,” I heard Gabby’s voice cry, clear and strong, from the back of the tent.

“Me, too,” cried someone else.

“M-me, too,” Rosalie choked. Tears were streaming down her face as she gazed around the tent, and at Esther. “I—I’m sorry.”

Rosalie had so many things to apologize for, it was impossible to say what, specifically, she was sorry for.

But the Bringer of Light, unlike me, wasn’t petty enough to question it. Esther merely smiled at her kindly, as in the distance—the far distance—thunder rumbled. The storm was moving on. Around us, the wolf lights were beginning to fade. Justice hadn’t yet been restored for those in West Harbor who’d been wrongly killed so many centuries ago. But something like it was pouring in to repair the rift, like a touch from Derrick’s fingers, filling the hurt with golden warmth.

“It’s all right,” Esther said to Rosalie. “You didn’t know better.”

Brewster—who’d sunk to his knees in the mud—lifted his own tearstained face. “I’m sorry, too,” he murmured. “Please...”

Esther looked down at him, and her expression hardened. “Youdidknow better,” she said, and she raised her hand, exactly as she had with the pumpkins—