Page 50 of Salem’s Rise

When he pulls back, his expression is unexpectedly serious. “Do you trust me now?”

It’s an odd thing to ask, but then again, our friendship started under unusual circumstances. I’d once told him I didn’t trust him—maybe never would—but so much has changed since then.

“Yeah,” I say after a moment. “I do.”

He holds my gaze. “Would you still trust me if someone told you not to?”

“Someone like who?”

“Anyone. Your friends,” he says. “Silas.”

“That’s a weird question, Rowan.” I let out a small laugh. “I barely know Silas. Why would I care what he thinks about you?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He smiles again, as though the moment never happened. “Forget it.”

We enter the next room beneath a wooden beam dressed to resemble gallows. This one is the creepiest yet, some kind of witch torture dungeon. Figures hang from scaffolds, necks broken, dressed in torn black gowns and pointy witch hats. Along the walls, similarly dressed actors are chained to tables, writhing in manufactured pain, their bodies painted with cuts and burns. The room is filled with screams.

In the corner, a woman lies so unnaturally still, I can’t tell if she’s a mannequin or just a really good actor. Her eyes stare blankly ahead, her face devoid of expression. No fear. No nothing. Her throat is slashed, and her stomach has been cut open and rearranged with deliberate care. Dark blood pools beneath her body, thick and uneven, and a bloody symbol has been carved into her forehead.

I recognize it immediately from the Blood and Bone book.

The Mark of the Veil.

“Oh my God!” someone shrieks. “She’s real! That’s a real body!”

Suddenly, the lights go out.

Panic tears through the haunted house as everyone bolts for the exits at once, the screams sending the crowd into a stampede. Bodies slam into me from all directions. Someone’s shoulder catches mine hard enough to spin me sideways. My fingers slip from Rowan’s, and I shout his name, but the darkness swallows the sound beneath a chorus of terrified screams. Someone else elbows me sharply in the stomach, and I stumble into a wall. Seconds later, I get swept along by the crush of bodies surging forward.

Somehow, I find the front doors and burst out into the cold night air. Police lights flash across buildings, and the authorities rush inside the haunted house as customers continue streaming outside. Already most of the crying has turned to laughter as people start to dismiss it all as just another haunted house prank.

I don’t know what to believe. Whatever I saw in there didn’t feel like part of the show. It felt real.

I scan the crowd for my friends, but they’re nowhere to be found. The haunted house has multiple exits spilling out onto different streets, so I don’t even know where to start looking for them. Not to mention downtown is so packed with tourists that I can barely see ten feet in any direction, let alone pick out a familiar face.

I try to call Rowan and then Wren, but my phone refuses to connect. I can’t even get an Uber. There must be too many people in town tonight all trying to use their phones at the same time.

Just as I finally psyche myself up for the long walk back to the dorms, a black Mercedes town car glides to the curb. The dark-tinted rear window lowers, and Silas looks out at me.

“Get in.”

Almost instinctively, I take a step back from the car. Folding my arms against the cold, I shake my head.

“Absolutely not.”

“Suit yourself,” he says, and the window slides shut, the car driving ahead.

A cold raindrop lands on my cheek.

Then another.

Within seconds, the sky opens. I mutter a curse under my breath, instantly regretting my decision. As much as I loathe Silas, I’m alone, it’s dark, and I’m in the creepiest town in all of New England. As miserable as a ride back to the dorms with Silas would be, walking there by myself in the dark—and the damn rain—still seems like the worse choice.

I lift a hand in a sad little half-wave and hold my breath. Red brake lights flare against the wet pavement, and the town car reverses until the window is level with me again.

“Mercer.”

I glare at him.