Cursed

Be still when you have nothing to say; when genuine passion moves you, say what you've got to say, and say it hot. - D.H. Lawrence

"You're stalking me, aren't you?"

I froze where I was standing. I felt the corners of my mouth twitch at the sound of that gorgeous voice. The bare skin of my shoulder burned beneath the hand that he had placed casually on my shoulder.

"Really?" I spoke, not turning around. "Because I have been lead to believe that it is you who is stalking me."

He let out a little laugh and his hand moved down to my arm, spinning me around.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, his dark eyes captivating me. "Do you not know that it is dangerous for a girl such as yourself to wander on her own? Especially with the Witchfinders about."

I tore my eyes away from Jesse and looked over at a witchfinder I had been observing. He was as drunk as is possible, his hat across his face and his long brown cape wrapped around him in an interesting way. He looked like a human cocoon.

"I don't think he will be bothering anyone for at least a few more hours," I told him, avoiding his gaze this time. I had honestly thought that he had wandered over to talk to me. But I guess he had just wanted to warn me about the dangers of a young girl at a market on her own. But my mother had been too busy to take me, and the Harbor markets were rarely as good as this.

"Henry is here," he told me. "Maybe I should tell him where you are."

At this, I ripped my arm from his grasp.

"Contrary to what you think, I am capable of looking after myself, thank you very much," I told him. He looked taken aback by my sudden outburst. "So if that was all that you talked to me for, then I suggest that you leave me be." At that precise moment, I did not care if I sounded like the snobby brat I had tried so hard not to be.

"I am sorry, querida," he apologised, looking genuinely sorry."I just don't want you to get hurt. There are worse things than the witchfinders out there."

'Yeah,' I thought. 'I live next door to one of them'.

"What is that?" I asked. I could not contain a little snicker as Jesse looked over his shoulder.

"What is what?" He asked, turning back to me.

"What you just called me." Jesse did not reply. It bugged me, I guess, but I decided to let it go. "Never mind."

I gave him one last smile before turning to leave. His presence was unnerving, although not in the same way as Paul's was. With every step that I took, I begged whatever higher force there was out there that he would say something else. Just so that I could hear that voice once more.

"Susannah," he spoke. I stopped, smiling and silently thanking whoever had answered my silent prayer. "Do you know a girl named Cristina Versailles? She was a maid in the governer's house...just like you." I nodded slowly, not turning around. Of course I did. She hated Paul almost as much as I did. She came to our house to escape her Italian family, who were violent and possesive. I had not seen her since yesterday morning.

"What of her?" I enquired, keeping my voice as casual as possible. I knew Cristina well.

"She stood trial last night," Jesse informed me, his voice shaking as he spoke. "Down...down at the pools."

I gasped. He had to be lying. That voice could not speak such horrors.

"You lie!" I snarled, whirling round to face him. "I saw her yesterday, she is fine!"

Jesse looked at me with what could only be pity in his eyes. There was a hint of something else...sadness maybe, I do not know.

"Her family contacted the governer. He ordered her execution. If it is any consolation, she drowned, proving that she was not a witch." I assume that he added this last part as a half-hearted attempt to cheer me up. But it only angered me more.

"Take me there," I instructed him. "If it is true, then take me to the pools."


The woods were quite, as usual. No-one ventured into them anymore. The town square was only used for the occasional burning; the forest is where the atrocities take place any other time. The only visible evidence of what occured was a raised platform in the middle of a clearing. As usual, a bonfire had been set up, ready for the next woman who stepped out of line. Just up from the reusable stake stood the old miller's cottage. It has been out of service for decades, but it is built next to a lake, making it an ideal place to cage women awaiting their 'trial'. The unlucky women were 'awarded' a trial.

Over the lake stood a stone bridge, manacles and chains permanently nailed to the side. On the edge of this miniscule yet deep patch of water were two objects which looked like planks of wood with crude seats attatched to one end. Both the chains and the seats were the only objects used in the trials, but they were more than enough to terrify any person faced with them. One way of trying a suspected witch is to secure her hands to the chains that fell over the bridge. Now, these chains went through a series of metal loops which had been nailed to the bridge underwater. If someone at the top of the bridge pulled hard on these chains, whoever was tied to them would be dragged down under the water, unable to break the surface unless the chains were released. The other method of trying a suspected witch would be to tie them to one of the chairs so that they could not escape and then lift up one end of the plank, submerging the chair and the suspect into the water. the theory behind these methods is that if the suspect survives a lengthy spell underwater, then they must be a witch and would consequentally be either tortured to death or tied to the stake and burned. Of course, no woman had ever been found guilty this way. So they have taken to merely tying the suspected up and throwing them into the lake to see if they would float. Which was ridiculous, too, because by the time the accused was dragged out, they had already drowned.

You do not want to know what they did to the men that were accused.

Jesse refused to take his arm off mine as we drew closer to the lake. The stench was almost unbearable. They only emptied the lake every four of five executions; when they needed the chains.

The grass was damp beneath my feet, and I could feel the mud squelching under my step, no doubt soiling my shoes.

"Be careful," Jesse whispered. His grip on my arm became more posessive as I kneeled on the wet stone that surrounded the lake and looked into the water below.

For a moment, all that I saw was my own reflection, Jesse's directly behind me, a look of uncertainty on his goregous face. Then...something moved. Jesse's grip on my arm tightened even more so, and I leaned back, my body pressing against his. I could feel the muscles beneath his shirt as my back pressed against them. I shuddered slightly, telling myself that it was because of the fear.

Slowly, something moved in the water. I could see it moving towards the surface, until... It was all I coudl do to surpress a scream. Cristina's dark, lifeless eyes gazed skyward, an expression of despair distorting her beautiful features. It was hard to believe that just twenty-four hours earlier, I had been laughing with her.

"Querida, I think thatwe should go," Jesse said, his voice urgent yet concerned. "You do not look well." I shook my head and reached my hand out towards Cristina's body, my fingers hovering milimetres from the water's surface. I noticed for the first time that a length of rope was wrapped around her neck, the end of which was tied to the chain further towards the bridge, causing her body to bend at a peculiar angle. I closed my eyes, unable to look at her any longer. Those vile witchfinders had done it again. They are paidon comission, so the more people they kill, the more they earn. They don't care if the people they kill are innocent or not. I opened my eyes to take one last look at my former friend only to see her body jerk back with the jangle of a chain.

"Curious there, are ya, miss?"

Jesse's grip on me became painful and he attempted to drag me backwards, but I dug my already-soiled heels into the moist earth and looked up into the witchfinder's face.

"I just wish to ensure that these...creatures got what they deserved." I heard Jesse gasp behind me and the guilt that I felt intensify tenfold. I did not means these words, but I would be in the lake with Cristina if I did not speak them.

The witchfinder grinned at me as he yanked on the chain again, dragging Cristina's body towards the bridge.

"Don't I know you from somewhere, ma'am?" He enquired, observing me suspiciously. "I'm sure I have. Up at the mansion."

I ducked my head to avoid his gaze.

"I am-I know the governer," I explained. I couldn't tell him who I really was, because Jesse was standing right behind me, and I couldn't tell him the lie that I had fed Jesse because it would suggest that I had a connection with Cristina. That alone was enough to ensure that I was the next body tied to those chains.

"Come on," I heard Jesse say behind me, his voice firm and full of loathing. As I turned, I saw that his eyes were filled with hatred as he stared down the witchfinder. His grip did not loosen as he led me back towards the horse that I had rode down on. Behind us, the witchfinder cackled, sending a stream of birds shooting out of one of the nearby trees.

"Doing what you're husband tells you," he shouted between cackles. "Why can't more women be like you?" Then, he cackled some more as he dragged Cristina's stiff body from the pool. I had to bite back a scathing reply and felt my cheeks burn at his comment. Jesse was not my husband.

Jesse helped me onto the back of his horse, but instead of holding its reins and leading it through the trees like he had on our journey here, he placed his foot in one of the stirrups before I could slide mine in and hoisted himself up onto the horse, positioning himself behind me. He had barely gripped the reins before he dug his heels into the horses side and we sped off through the trees.

I have never rode a horse before. Well, not when someone else is doing all the steering. It's quite unnerving. And I'm not talking about the fact that I constantly felt as though I was going to topple off sideways. I'm talking about the strong arms that came around me, preventing me from falling,and the proximity of his body to mine. There was no denying how incredible he felt against me, and there was no stopping the feelings that coursed through me as I was pressed backwards against his hard chest. I didn't even realise how much of my legs were showing, since I was not riding side-saddle and, in order for me to sit comfortably, the skirt of my dress was hiked up around my knees.

I don't know how long we rode together, only that Jesse did not stop until he had returned to the Blacksmith's shop. I would be lying if I told you that I was not disappointed when he dismounted the horse and helped me down. I would also be lying if I told you I was not embarassed about the height of my skirt. He got a good view of my thighs, although he did look away once he realised how high my skirt had rose. Handsome and a gentleman. He truly is the perfect man.

"What was all that about?" I enquired once my feet found the ground and the hem of my dress was back around my ankles, where it belonged. Too bad it didn't cover my shoes; they were a lost cause.

"I am sorry," he apologised, tying his horse's reins to some piece of wood. I didn't bother looking to see where it went. "I can't stand those...people." He spat out the word 'people' as if he thought that the witchfinders should not be described in this way. I had honestly never seen a man react this way to one of them before. Except Paul, who pushed one into the drowning pool when they tried to come on to me. Which was funny at the time.

Jesse then turned to me and reached out to touch my face.

"Promise me that you will stay out of trouble," he said. Why is he being like this? Why is he treating me like...well, like he likes me. I had only met him a few days ago, yet he was already treating me as a friend, an equal. Not to mention the sensations I experienced when I was simplyin the same room as him, never mind touching him. I scolded myself as an unsuitable answer formed in my head, the answer in question involving the kind of 'trouble' that he obviously wasn't thinking of.

"Querida?" There was that word again. What did it mean? I remained silent yet again, reaching up to cover his hand with my own. His skin felt rough beneath mine, his hand warm and dark against my own pale, cold skin. Involuntarily, I turned my head and placed a tender kiss on the palm of his hand. I do not know what caused me to do such a thing, but it was too late to take it back. And I knew almost instantly that I had made a mistake.

Jesse withdrew his hand as if I had just driven a knife through it and stared, speechless, at the place I had touched with my lips. Then he looked at me, his expression unreadable, and I could see that he was visibly shaken.

I bit my bottom lip and looked away. I did not look back as I turned around and muttered a quiet farewell. I did not even look back as I walked calmly to the door, breaking into a run as soon asI was out of his view.

Then, far away from both my house and the Blacksmith's shop, I sat on the filthy ground, turning my dress the same colour as my shoes and started to shake uncontrollably.

Then, I cried.


AN -There's more, but I'm ending there for now :). I don't know much about the Salem Witch Trials (I am using my knowledge of the English Witch Trials for this story), but I am going to try to look them up before long...the witchfinder bit is going to play a bigger part when Paul comes back from wherever he was sent. I'm just trying to build up the J/S relationship before I bring him in.

Disclaimer - I own nothing but the story.