The Salem Games: A Trilogy

Chapter 19

"Miss Osmalina? We have some unfortunate news."

A trembling male's voice echoed through the pitch darkness, the warmth of the bright light having left his flesh moments before he stepped into his mistress' lair. From afar, a low breeze moaned, and he shivered, tremors vibrating through his flesh despite the black cloak he wore over him. No one would criticize him for the hunch he adopted into his posture, for surely he knew that there were worst things to worry over than just a hunch, the one thing that could ruin his back.

Yet he was unable to see the slight purse in his mistress' lips, a faint frown gracing over her pale face upon reception of the single opening statement.

"Get on with it then, Yuritz," she barked harshly. "We've already had many catastrophes occur in their stupid Salem Games. What happened this time?"

"It's your sister. Kerimei."

The shadow immediately turned round, her violet eyes glaring deep into her servant's. A sudden plume of flame burst on her right to reveal the figure which he had previously addressed, a fair one with long raven black hair thrown carelessly over her shoulder and a violet dress with a flaring lace hem barely brushing over her ankles. She rose from the black throne where she sat upon and approached him slowly, regally. "What news about Kerimei?"

Yuritz swallowed once, the saliva barely quenching the thin parched crust formed in his throat. "It was the Vigilante, ma'am. Shot her while she was asleep."

"The Vigilante shot her? Do say that the Doctor healed her."

"Unfortunately not, ma'am. She was gone. The Doctor never got to her."

The witch stopped in her tracks. Her eyebrows narrowed, her violet eyes glimmering with unbidden tears. "And what was the name of this Vigilante, Yuritz?"

"Henry Lawson, ma'am. He died the same night he killed her, ma'am."

A growl of resentment turned into a scream of vengeance, and she was not afraid to let it loose as the news sunk in. Henry Lawson killed her sister. A descendant of Deodat Lawson had killed her sister, the only person she had sworn to take care of after her parents died. She felt every inch of her guard melt away from her, as if Yuritz had doused her with a bucket of water with the news he delivered. Never had she felt more vulnerable in her years of living as the leader of her clan.

"How dare he!" she screamed, throwing her hand to the side as she tried to stop the sudden fear from worming its way into her heart. Alas, it already had, and she could do nothing.

There was no turning back time to save her.

I could never dare disobey my mother--not after what I had seen all summer, not after what I had been through since Salem chose me to compete in their Games. However, the minute I got home after school, I went straight to my room and pulled out the crystal ball from the bottom of my junk-filled closet, withdrawing it from heaps of unworn dresses made of brightly coloured fabrics and equally vibrant threads. The misty cloud that hung within continued to swirl slowly in a mesmerizing manner, though I did not waste a single second on watching it. As I placed it down on my desk, I glanced once at the arm that got pinched so violently by a force unknown and frowned. Though the wound itself was healing, the real problem was how I got the bruise, and who delivered it.

I could never dare lie, but it was something I had to do. Everyone now knew of my involvement and participation in the Salem Games last summer, and were probably quite amazed at the fact that I had not been drinking to forget the horror it brought. Forgetting the traumatizing experience was the least of my worries, however. It only brought me closer to realizing just how dangerous the idea itself seemed to be--an online game produced by a gaming team turned into reality where one brutally tried to stay alive at all costs, killing others if they could oh so mercilessly just to win. Yet the phenomenon that occurred this morning still baffled me. What could have possibly given me the bruise on my arm that I could only cover so far with a harsh impact against my not-so-stiff backpack?

The crystal ball could lead me to my only answer, but what if the Salem ghosts did not answer to my plea?

Just before I could finish chanting the verse, however, a figure immediately floated from the ball and waved her arms at me.

"Are you out of your mind, Brianne? Do you know how much trouble you're causing just by summoning us while the day is still light?"

The mere sound of her voice made me relax immensely, and just recognizing Abigail even before she fully materialized in front of me made me chuckle. "Thank goodness you've responded though, Abigail. I was starting to get worried--why didn't any of you respond to my plea all last summer?"

Abigail shook her head and drew the curtains in my room, blocking out all the sunlight as she floated beside me, her figure glowing with an unearthly sheen. "We couldn't respond at all, Brianne. We could, but we couldn't. You remember what I told you in the jail? With all the witches possibly on the rise again because they were angry and everything?"

Of course I remembered. There wasn't anything I would forget from Salem, not with the will that I had so carefully written out and now stowed away under the mattress of my bed.

"Things have become horrendously worse after the conclusion of the Games. We have been trying to stop uprisings that have only begun to dominate the world. Of course no one could see us, but we've seen it all--people raising their guns, their knives, shouting threats at everyone and anyone they could see. Meanwhile, there was a certain witch who had figured everything out about what happened last year--the year your father was in the Games--and she had vowed to take vengeance upon him. But upon knowing of his death, she could only do so through the next person in line, the next person who had somehow defied death twice and lived to tell the tales."

"What are you talking about, Abigail?" I asked, turning away from my crystal ball so I could face her. "What do you mean, the next person in line? And the only reason I could defy death was because Justin--"

It almost pained me to say his name. Though Justin and I managed to keep connected all summer, lately he hadn't been responding to my messages. Of course, it made me worried. What happened to him?

"Because Justin healed you. I knew that," Abigail said stiffly with a nod. "But you really don't know what I mean, do you? Your father, Henry Lawson--he killed a witch before he got burned, right?"

"Yes." I nodded as I remembered the woman who slept so peacefully on the bed, the woman everyone doubted whenever they congregated to discuss the kills. "Kerimei, right?"

"Kerimei was her sister," Abigail murmured, her voice dropping so suddenly I almost shivered. "She was furious when she heard of her death by your father's hand. Though your father had performed flawless executions while he still had his bullets, it didn't please everyone. There were those who had family in the Mafia, and those with family aligned in the Neutral Killing. But above all, there was that one chosen Witch who got shot, and her sister had only vowed to get revenge upon the Lawsons." Her eyes flashed once as she leaned in closer, whispering the one thing I almost never thought I would bear to hear without feeling like my life was void of everything that made life worth living.

"She vowed to kill you."