The Witch's Wrath: Jigsaw of Souls Series Book 2

195 pages

Chapter 2

The sign announcing the town of Burnham featured the image of a sprawling, blackened tree with no leaves and what appeared to be a woman burning at the base of it. Not exactly what Vincent thought was a welcoming image for visitors.

“Burnham. Home of the final witch burning in America,” Dezzy said, reading off a smaller sign. “That’s dark.”

“They use it to fleece tourists,” Selena said. “A legacy of torture and murder has become a cute method of profiteering. They sell bobbleheads and t-shirts while walking on the ashes of dead women.”

“That’s messed up,” Dezzy said.

“Yes, it is. And I could have fixed it if not for you,” she said, looking at herself in the mirror.

“I did this?” Vincent said.

“You killed me before I could undo the damage done. Or maybe I never could. Maybe your words were all a lie, and the power was never in my grasp. None of it matters now.”

Vincent didn’t respond as he kept driving. There was nothing else he could say, really. He knew nothing of what happened. And he couldn’t honestly argue with her. She remembered being murdered by him. He remembered nothing at all.

“Head to the Black Tree Bakery. It’s on Main Street,” Selena said.

“A bakery?” Dezzy asked.

“My sister, Abigail, owns it. It’s where we need to be. If anyone knows what is wrong in Burnham, it will be her. Can you feel the power now that we are in town? It is so much stronger.”

“Yes,” Vincent said. There was a base of power all around the town. It was like a blanket that had been laid down and the town was settled on top of it. Not like the Font in Alder Falls. This wasn’t a power source. It was just an expression of power. Power in use for something. But the nature of it was unknown to Vincent.

With Bogdan’s necromancy, he had learned to see the threads of power. He could see how it weaved through the Earth itself, and how it animated the undead. It was like threads in the weave of a shirt. But this power, the primal and blood magic Selena and Dezzy spoke of, was different. He could feel it in the way he felt the breeze. But he couldn’t point it out or touch it. He couldn’t manipulate it the way he manipulated necromancy.

For a small town, the streets were surprisingly packed with people as Vincent drove down Main Street in search of the bakery. At one point they passed a fairground that was loaded with booths and rides, including a giant Ferris wheel. People streamed in and out of the gates carrying snacks and giant stuffed animals and bulging plastic bags.

“Is this like a festival or something?” Vincent said.

“Yes, every year people come to eat candy apples and corn dogs in honor of the twelve women murdered by the town elders of Burnham back in the late sixteen hundreds.”

“They burned them on that tree?” Vincent asked.

“Yes,” Selena said.

“Not all of them,” Dezzy said. Selena looked at him in the mirror. “They burned seven of them on the tree. Three were hanged from it. One died of thirst in prison before she could be executed. The last one died while they were torturing her because she would not admit to being a witch.”

“How did you know that?” Selena said.

“I know how everyone died,” he answered, as though that made sense.

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