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shoulders. “I do not believe Mrs. Worth to be a witch. Magistrate Ludington errs in his judgment.” He began walking the tiny room. “What am I to do?” he asked, staring at the walls.
    Mrs. Lynne’s shoulders heaved still and she let out a sob.
    Mr. Lynne moved toward them once more and steered them toward the bed to sit. “I must only think of our family.”
    “The men?” Isabella asked.
    “A witch-hunting party.”
    “And what is their intention?”
    “They search for signs of the devil, Child. We cannot be too careful.”
    Mrs. Lynne wiped at her eyes with the seam of her nightshirt. Her husband knelt beside them, a hand aside either one on the hand-sewn blanket.
    Mrs. Lynne patted Isabella’s leg and then promised her husband, “We will do what you wish.”
    Mr. Lynne nodded. “If this should ever happen again, Isabella, do as your mother says. I have given her instructions that you need not worry yourself over now. If the time comes, you do what she tells you. Understand?”
    “If the time comes? I know not—”
    Mrs. Lynne’s body tightened. “If they come for us.”
    Isabella’s hand flew to her mouth. “But we are not Satan’s witches.”
    “Of course not,” her father spat the words. “I believe strongly that Mrs. Worth was otherwise too when she was taken.”
    Isabella’s heart drummed loud in her ears. “And you think this might happen to us?”
    “To anyone.”
    Tears streamed down her cheeks. Mr. Lynne cursed and strode from the room, the boards creaking underneath his heavy step.
    Isabella drew in a long breath, lost inside herself. “I heard one of them say something.”
    The bed groaned as her mother stood. “I did as well,” Mrs. Lynne said.
    Isabella looked to her, forgetting she was even there. “What do you think they looked for?”
    “I imagine for anything suspicious.”
    “What about Mrs. Worth?”
    “I cannot care about that now.” Her mother grabbed up her hand and squeezed it. “I want only to protect us.”
    “And Mrs. Shipton?”
    Mrs. Lynne cocked her head. “What of her? She has not been taken.”
    Isabella looked over at the desk, at the mark of the S burnt onto it and shuddered. “Do you think she will?”

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
    Sarah
     
    The bed was my friend.
    I awoke, sprawled spread eagle across every inch of the queen-size mattress. Light shone through the windows making it seem like full day outside, but I had a sinking suspicion it was early. Too early.
    Over 400 years of history. They weren’t kidding. It was a long, long night. My head throbbed, reminding me I stayed up way too late. The lingering smell of gasoline and the raucous crowd still echoed between my ears.
    Sleep clouding my eyes, I searched the room for the clock on the desk. I forgot to pull tight the curtains last night, allowing the sun to seep in super early and then get really annoying at about, oh… right now. 8:09 exactly, the digital clock blinking red informed me.
    Note to self: Pull your curtains shut from now on. No more of this waking up early crap.
    I sat up and stretched. The black witch shirt still clung to me. The only strength I could muster last night was unfastening my bra before collapsing on the bed, already half-asleep before hitting the flowery comforter.
    My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Okay. And I had time to take the phone out of my pocket. But that was a necessity.
    It was a text from my best friend.
    Jamie: saw ur mom yesterday seems upset
    Yeah right. Friends at home still weren’t used to my mother’s drama induced, poor-me-I’m-so-abused BS. Ignore.
    My phone buzzed again. “Ugh. What now?”
    Mom: Thought u were gonna call me yesterday????????
    Mom: I hope u r on ur way home!!!!!!
    The phone vibrated in my hands again. “Oh my god,” I screamed into the pillow. “It's too early for this.”
    Drake: Mornin’ Sunshine. U and me. Breakfast.
    A grin widened across my face. It buzzed again.
    Drake: Abigail’s 9:30!
    K, I