Ghost Hunt (Haunted Souls #26)

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Amity

Locked underground in the Salem Village jail it was hard to tell if it was day or night, but Amity Wellington knew dawn had broken.

It was to be her final morning on this good earth thanks to her friends and neighbors.

Hilda, who thought Amity was having relations with her pig farmer husband, who reeked continually of pig shit and was missing a front tooth.

Susanna, whose husband, Jonathan, had tried to force himself upon Amity, but had thankfully been repelled by Midnight, the raven, who followed Amity like a lost puppy.

Rebekah, whose jealousy over Amity’s midwifery skills, had led her to call out Amity as a witch.

It had been Rebekah who’d been the one to deliver Amity’s own child a mere three days ago in this foul dungeon.

She’d been allowed one hour with her child.

A beautiful baby girl Amity decided to name Verity, meaning truth.

Ripping the child from her arms. Rebekah had spat at Amity and told her that she and baby Grace would be going home with Charles, Amity’s husband, who’d condemned his wife the moment the constable had arrived to take Amity into custody.

Amity didn’t need her powers to know Rebekah had accused Amity of witchcraft for the sole purpose of making Charles her own.

Henry, Rebekah’s husband, had been carried off by a fever a few short months ago.

If only Rebekah had asked about Charles, she would have been happy to inform her neighbor that her husband may have been all smiles and charm in public, but at home, he was controlling, demanding, and cruel.

Amity would have happily given her husband to Rebekah had she but asked.

In the days since Amity had been arrested and brought to the jail, she’d been vigorously examined by local constables who claimed to be looking for witches’ marks; signs she’d made a deal with the devil, and sealed their covenant with her body.

Several marks had been found. She’d had them since childhood, but that did not matter.

The marks were simply evidence to be used against her.

As for what Amity was forced to endure after the inspections were complete, she would make sure the men who’d violated her body and soul paid the price.

The visits to Amity’s cell had not stopped after witch marks were found on her body.

She’d been visited by local constables, who’d let her know that if she would perform certain acts, she’d be set free.

Amity refused. She’d received similar visitations from judges, selectmen, and prominent members of Salem Village, all of whom assured her that she would be cleared of all charges if she would simply kneel before them.

Amity had refused. Men of the cloth were no better.

They begged her to plead guilty, saying she’d be set free to live a godly life with her child if she complied.

Amity knew that would not be so. Her child would be taken.

She would lose her home, her medicinal garden, the few remaining friends she had left, and her reputation as a healer.

Whether she lived or died would depend on the charity of others.

Considering the fact that her friends and neighbors were the sole reason Amity found herself in the dungeon to begin with, she had no faith these same people would offer food or forgiveness.

“Last chance, bitch!” A vile voice called from down the hall. Heavy footsteps and the jingling of keys followed.

Amity knew the voice belonged to Thatcher Webb, who was a bastion of the Salem community. He was on the panel of judges adjudicating cases with charges of witchcraft. He was the man who’d condemned her to death. Amity had known the Webb family for years, having delivered their three children.

Webb came to stand in front of Amity’s dreary cell. “Repent and be free.” He wore a hungry look and sported a bulge in his pants.

Taking a deep breath, Amity stood, clasping her hands together, shoving her hair over her shoulders. Her long dark tresses cascaded down her back, freed from her usual braid, while her icy blue eyes blazed with anger. “I am already free.”

Webb laughed. “As delusional as you are beautiful. Kneel before me and I will judge you innocent of the charges. We both know you’re not a witch, Amity.” Webb licked his lips as if he were about to enjoy a sumptuous meal.

Amity knew nothing of the sort. “I kneel before no man.”

Webb growled and reached out for Amity, seeming to forget there were bars between them.

“You will hang. I will make sure of it. Your death will not be easy. It will not be quick. I will make sure the noose is tied incorrectly, so that you will slowly strangle to death, able to see and hear the hate and disdain your fellow townsmen carry for you.”

“Blessed be, judge,” Amity said, turning from the enraged man. Webb thought he would have the last laugh. The pompous ass had no idea the storm was yet to come.