The Thirteenth Sacrifice (37 page)

Samantha nodded. “You’re right.”

And she felt her heart lighten slightly. Because there would be a tomorrow.

She was standing in the corridor. The door marked with the number 5 stood wide-open. Her five-year-old self stood in front of it, stroking the small black kitten. Two other doors, numbered 6 and 7, were open as well, and slightly older versions of her were poking their heads out and watching her with the same solemn green eyes, tinged with shadows. There were nine other doors, all shut, and she looked at them slowly. When she finally turned her eyes to the door marked 12, the three girls whimpered as though in pain.

“Don’t,” they begged in chorus.

“You mustn’t,” the youngest girl insisted, reaching out to take her by the hand. “You won’t like what you find in there.”

“And if you let her out, we might never get her put back,” the other two said in unison.

But curiosity burned in her along with the nameless fear. What if the children were right? She continued to stare at the forbidden door. She became aware that it was glowing, dimly at first and then more brightly until red light poured out from beneath it, reaching toward her.

She stepped back, away from the creeping light as the children screamed at her not to look.
I did this,
she realized. The beast would escape and it would be all her fault.

Samantha sat up shaking and looked around. It took her a minute to recognize her home. She hadn’t been gone from it that long, but so much had happened that it felt different.
She
felt different.

Around her the shadows pressed in, calling to her, whispering. They wanted something from her. And she couldn’t let them have it, no matter what. Her hand stroked her neck, missing the comfort of her cross more than ever. But it was gone, lost before her pledge not to use magic again had been broken.

She forced herself to lie down again and told herself that she couldn’t hear the echo of children’s screams in her mind. She turned on her side and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to pray, trying to find comfort in anything. The words came haltingly and when she was done only a little of the anxiety was gone.

She moved her hands and before she realized what she was doing she felt energy flowing out of her, vibrating between her hands, taking shape. She felt a soft body press against her hands and a low purr rumbled. Freaky, her little kitten. She swallowed hard, trying to fight back the tears of frustration and confusion. Freaky was the product of magic, which was dangerous. But he was nuzzling her hands and he was so warm and fluffy and felt so real. She needed the companionship. Even if he was magic. With him licking her fingers she fell asleep.

It was nearly noon when Samantha awoke again. She opened her eyes and Freaky yawned and stretched his tiny body on her pillow. She knew she should banish him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it just yet.

She got up, showered, and dressed. When she was ready to leave she dissipated Freaky with a sense of sorrow. On
the way to the hospital she stopped at a small jewelry store and bought herself a new cross, a silver filigree one. It wasn’t the same, but she still felt a sense of relief as she clasped it around her neck and it settled into place against her skin.

By the time she reached the hospital, she felt a little calmer. She made her way up to Ed’s room. Vanessa was visiting. She got up and gave Samantha a quick hug before exiting the room.

“So, I heard someone in this room has been very stubborn and not listening to the nurses,” Samantha said, trying hard to tease him.

Ed gave her a weak smile but didn’t respond to her humor. “I was told you caught all the bad guys.”

“I couldn’t have done it without my partner,” she said, sitting down next to him.

“Yeah,” he said, his smile fading.

“What’s wrong?”

“I wanted to talk to you about that.”

She felt like she was going to be sick, because in her heart she knew where he was going. Some things were just too much for other people to handle. Some burdens couldn’t be shared.

“You did the right thing.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m on trial?” she asked.

He cleared his throat. “Sometimes, even when you do the right thing… it changes things.”

“Our actions have consequences,” she acknowledged.

“Yeah.”

“Come on, Ed. We’ve always been able to level with each other.”

He lifted his head and looked her in the eye. “That’s what I thought.”

“You know why I couldn’t tell you about my past. And it was just that—my past.”

“I know. And I know that I pushed you to do everything you did.”

“But?”

“But I’m not okay with it.”

Even though she’d known it was coming, his words cut her to the bone.

“Okay, we can talk about that, or not,” she said, forcing herself to sound calm. “In a couple of weeks we’ll be back on the job, catching bad guys, and we can put all this behind us. After all, we’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

“Not anymore. Not after everything. I know I said some terrible things to you.”

“It was the toxin, but it’s gone now. Don’t worry. I forgive you.”

“And I really do appreciate that, but I can’t forgive you. Nor can I forget. You’re one of them. I’ve shared my concerns with Captain Roberts and put in for a new partner.”

She stood. “Then I guess there’s really nothing left to say.”

He shook his head.

She walked out the door, reeling from the betrayal. She had been hoping that Ed would be there for her, help her as she tried to recover and rebuild her life. Vanessa was just outside the room. She looked at Samantha with tears in her eyes.

“He’ll come around. Just give him some time,” Vanessa said. She rubbed Samantha’s back. “It will work out—you’ll see.”

Samantha gripped her hand. “You need anything, you call me.”

Vanessa nodded.

Samantha turned and walked away. She made it out
to the parking lot, barely registering anything around her. She got in her car and drove to the precinct in a fog.

When she entered the building all eyes immediately focused on her. The weight of their stares made it hard to breathe, let alone keep walking. She sought out the eyes of those she knew. People she worked with, men she counted as friends, all refused to meet her eye.

She walked into Captain Roberts’s office and closed the door. He quickly drew the blinds and she crumpled slightly. “I did what everyone wanted me to do,” she whispered.

“You saved countless lives.”

“But not my own.”

“I know that it feels like the end of the world. A lot of cops coming off undercover assignments struggle with many of the same things you’re going through.”

“But they don’t get ostracized,” she pointed out.

“No,” he said with a weary sigh. “Look, I know it’s bad.”

“Is it as bad as I think?”

“Probably worse. Now, as I see it you’ve got two options. You can sit right here and weather the storm. I’ll find someone willing to partner you even if I have to bring them in from the outside.”

“Or?”

“I know the chief of police in San Francisco. I put in a call and he’s willing to have you transfer out there. No one will know anything about your past. We managed to keep your name out of the media here, so you’ll have a chance to start fresh.”

“What do you think I should do?” she asked.

“Personally, I think you should hightail it west. It will be better for you.”

“Better for me or better for everyone else?”

“Both.”

“I see.” She stood up and offered him her hand, which he shook. “Sir, I believe I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“If you need a few days to think it over—”

“We both know that a few days isn’t going to change things. If anything, the longer I’m here, the worse it’s going to get.”

“I’m sorry to lose you,” he said.

You should have thought about that earlier,
she thought bitterly. She handed him her badge and gun, then turned and left. She stopped briefly at her desk to grab the few things that belonged to her and then she walked out, head held high, refusing to let the staring onlookers see her cry.

She drove to her parents’ home and they helped her work out the arrangements. When all was said and done, she decided that the sooner she left, the better. She spent the next week packing up her life. She dumped most of her stuff into storage and arranged with her dad to ship the rest once she had found a place in San Francisco.

The day she was leaving, all her tasks had been completed except one. So, with her car trunk packed and ready to go, she found herself driving into Salem. She parked the car and walked the familiar downtown area until she reached Red’s.

She walked into the restaurant and, like the first time they’d met, Anthony looked up and their eyes locked. She sat down opposite him. He tried to smile, but the misery on his face overwhelmed it. His left arm was in a cast and so was his right leg. But his obvious physical discomfort seemed to be overshadowed by something greater.

“So, what’s good here?” she asked.

“You are,” he said seriously.

Her breath caught in her throat. He wasn’t going to make this easy on her. And part of her didn’t want him to.

“So, the witches?” he asked.

“Dead.”

“So once again you’re the sole survivor?”

She shook her head. “There were no survivors this time.”

He looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

“I was never part of the coven. Officially, all the witches are dead.” It was true. When officers had gone to pick up the doctor, he’d resisted arrest and they’d been forced to shoot him.

“Unofficially?”

“I’m pretty messed up,” she admitted, reaching for the new cross necklace she was wearing. She still missed the original and part of her felt like there was a piece of her missing as well—a part that she’d give anything to have back.

“I can imagine,” he said softly.

“How about you?”

“The same.”

“What are you going to do now?”

He shrugged. “The insurance covers everything at the museum, so I guess it’s just a matter of deciding what I want to do. For so many years I chased the phantom of my mother’s death, driven, because I felt I had to. That’s done now, behind me. I could rebuild the museum, but I’m not sure I want to. I just know that whatever I do now, it’s my decision, my future.”

She wished things could be that clean for her. But officers had never found her cross or Abigail’s spellbook and journal. There were just so many questions still left
unanswered. Katie had mentioned a mentor; who was it, and how had they come into possession of Abigail’s things? “That has to be freeing,” she said with a wistful sigh.

“More like terrifying,” he admitted. “I’m starting to wonder what I want to do with my life.”

“I’m sure whatever you decide to do, you’ll be great at it,” she said.

“How about you?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m leaving.”

“Salem?”

She shook her head. “Salem, Boston, everything. I’m going out to San Francisco. My former captain is friends with the captain there. He offered me a job.”

“But your friends here?”

“I don’t have any friends. I thought I did, but it turns out not so much.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I’ll never be able to put my life back together where people know me, where they know what happened to me and what I did last week.”

“I can understand that.”

“I kind of figured you would.”

“So, where does that leave us?” Anthony asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice tinged with regret. “It is a good story, though. Boy meets girl. Boy falls for girl. Boy tries to kill girl.”

“Good story, but not a nice story,” she said.

“It needs a better ending,” he suggested, lacing his fingers through hers and smiling.

She hesitated. They both knew there wasn’t likely to be a happy ending, especially with all they both needed to sort out.

His smile faded. “How about this for now? Boy waits for girl.”

“I think it’s the best ending we can hope for,” she said.

She got up to leave, but he held on to her hand. She looked at him questioningly.

“Do me two favors?”

“What?” she asked.

“Call when you get where you’re going.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“And stay in the city, away from some of the other areas. They say Santa Cruz is full of witches.”

A chill shot up her spine and she nodded again. He let his fingers slide from hers and she left quickly. When she got back to the car she turned to take one last look at Salem. The city that had raised her and ultimately destroyed her life. It was the second time she was leaving it and this time she swore she wouldn’t return.

Mew.

Freaky rubbed against her ankles and she looked down at him in surprise. She didn’t remember conjuring him again. Had she done so when she left the restaurant? She reached down and picked him up and cuddled him under her chin. “Well, boy, I guess it’s just you and me.”

She climbed into the car and set the kitten on the passenger seat. “San Francisco, here we come.”

Samantha sat up with a scream. She was shaking and drenched in sweat. Beside her, Freaky Kitty was blinking at her with great, round eyes. He mewed and she reached out to cuddle him.

Freaky wasn’t a real cat; he was an energy creation she had learned to make when she was a young witch and had only recently remembered how to do so. In the important ways, though, he seemed real. He had weight and warmth and was incredibly soft. He was inquisitive, mischievous, and loving. He licked her finger and she could feel the sandpaper roughness of his tiny tongue.

There was a knock on her door and she waved her hand and dispelled the energy that made up the kitten. The great thing about his not being completely real was that he didn’t need feeding, he never got sick, and she could hide him with a flick of her wrist.